It was another dark Tuesday morning. Once again, Juan arrived in the Latinos por la Libertad headquarters alley at four-thirty am.
Tio Pablo had taken Juan off the job of registering voters because that work placed him visibly in the public eye. Pablo had arranged for Juan to be a 'duly designated delegate' for the Arizona Republican Party and wanted to keep Juan far away from all voting operations. But Juan begged Pablo to find something else for him because he couldn't find any other work.
The routine was for Juan to change into a postal worker’s uniform, climb into a waiting USPS delivery truck, drive to a pre-determined location, and wait.
There were several different locations, but the delivery generally took less than twenty minutes. Once safely back at the Latinos por la Libertad headquarters, Juan changed back into his street clothes, and the real mailman got his truck back.
Tio Pablo was waiting for him, “Good morning, Señor Torres!” Pablo bellowed the greeting through the inevitable haze of cigar smoke that seemed to cling to his uncle’s ponderous frame. His use of the honorific ‘Señor Torres,’ instead of just his first name, communicated to the whole crew that Juan was a man of importance. Perhaps destined one day to run the whole operation. Pablo was getting his crew accustomed to the idea.
Juan was getting accustomed to it, too. He used to feel uneasy as Pablo counted out the hundred-dollar bills into his palm, but now he rather enjoyed the routine. I deserve this, he thought. I’m the one taking all the risks.
“We’re getting a good price on tortillas,” Pablo guffawed. “Business is very good!”
Juan never counted the money Pablo handed him, at least not while anyone was watching. There will be plenty of time for that later, he thought. Pablo usually paid him thousands of dollars per delivery. Why not? I’m hauling millions of dollars in ballots for him.
Later, after the crew left and there was no one to impress, Juan and Pablo shared their customary tequila shots.
Pablo was trying to explain the 'family business' when Juan interrupted with a question. "They just indicted eighteen Republicans for being false electors who falsely certified Donald Trump as the 2020 presidential election winner. What kind of trouble am I getting into?"
Pablo blew out a puff of smoke, “There’s no way it happens like that again, sobrino,” he said reassuringly.
"How can you be so sure?" Juan objected. The courts have ruled that electors are required to vote according to the majority of the popular vote. If you have me vote in a different way, I'll go to jail!"
Pablo scratched his chin. He seemed to be looking at something far away. "How can I explain this to you, sobrino?" He swiveled his gaze, locking eyes with Juan. "In the 2020 election, this issue came up. At that time, they decided that electors must vote according to the will of the popular vote. You understand? All you have to do is vote according for whoever wins the Arizona election."
“So, that's it?” Juan asked. "That doesn't sound illegal, or even hard."
Pablo took a long drag on his cigar and slowly blew out the smoke. "No, what I'm asking you to do is definitely not illegal. I expect you to follow the law very closely. But..."
"But what?" Juan tried to consider the angles. “What aren't you telling me?"
"Ah, that's what you don't understand," Pablo said, gesturing to Juan to refill his cup. "I said I expect you to follow the law. I didn't say it would be easy."
"Why not?" Juan asked. He was still trying to figure out the complexities of US elections.
"Listen to me carefully, sobrino," Pablo rested a meaty hand on Juan's shoulder. "There are going to be twelve of you voting. When the time comes, some will want to vote for the person who didn't win the election."
Juan shook his head. “Why?” he asked. “This is all too confusing.”
Pablo gave one of his rumbling belly laughs, “Don’t worry, sobrino.” He slapped Juan good naturedly on the shoulder. “When the votes start coming in for Donald Trump, the Democrats are going to scream about election fraud. I'm putting you in there to remind them they have to vote for the winner, no matter what they think happened with the vote.”
“Ay, ay, ay,” Juan muttered. “The Democrats have no idea what's coming.”
What do the Democrats Think?
Choose Option 1: Harris Discusses Strong Economy
Choose Option 2: Harris Criticizes Trump