It wasn’t illegal for Juan to set up a voter registration site in a public park. However, for the kind of work Juan was doing, he required a degree of privacy and discretion. So, he retreated from the park under a fusillade of Jaime’s rapidly shouted curses. That didn’t go well, he thought. Maybe he doesn’t like money?
He packed up his pickup with all possible haste. He’d just left the Ma-Ha Tuak Park parking lot when the distinctive blare from a police car rolling up behind him chirped briefly, blue and red lights flashing.
Jaun’s blood ran cold. That old cabrón called the cops on me! He did a quick assessment of his situation. Inside his satchel was the tablet and almost two dozen signed absentee ballots. I have to talk my way out of this one, or I’m going to jail for a long time.
A mechanical, amplified voice squawked from the police cruiser. “Sir! Please step out of the vehicle.”
Juan complied.
There was a long, uncomfortable pause while Juan waited. It looked like the policeman behind the wheel was talking on the radio. “Sir! Please step forward and place both hands on your vehicle.”
The whole situation was so surreal. Juan thought about his Uncle Pablo and how his wife had warned him that Pablo would bring him trouble. He thought about his erstwhile mentor, Hector, who had taught him the ins and outs of the voter registration game. He’d always made it look so easy and risk-free. Juan had never really worried about getting caught. It had all been so easy. What’s Maria going to think when she finds out I’m in jail?
“Sir! I said, put both hands on your vehicle!”
Juan was tempted to turn and look at the police officer. He forced a small smile. Don’t grin too much, he chastised himself. That will make you look loco. Instead, he tried to feign a surprised, cooperative look.
The door to the police cruiser began to open, and Juan snapped his head forward with his eyes down.
Juan’s knees grew weak as he listened to the heavy footsteps of the police officer approaching him from behind. “Mr. Torres?” The voice seemed familiar. “Mr. Juan Torres?”
Juan turned to see a young Hispanic police officer holding his arms wide, “Give me a hug, uncle!”
Juan momentarily lost his ability to breathe as he froze, spellbound, in place. In the three or four steps it took for the officer to reach him, his startled mind had the few seconds it needed to register that he knew the formidable man in the black police uniform. It was his nephew, Gustavo.
Officer Gustavo was guffawing with a big belly laugh, and he scooped Juan into a crushing bear hug. “Tio Juan! You should see the look on your face!”
Juan’s breath was coming back now in ragged gasps. “I think I soiled myself, Sobrino,” he muttered darkly.
Gustavo’s laughter took some time to die away, with occasional interruptions to wipe away tears. “I’m sorry, uncle,” he said at last, wrapping a friendly arm around Juan’s shoulders, “But you had it coming! I got a call that some guy was registering vagrants to vote over here, and I knew it was you.”
“You scared the hell out of me,” Juan clutched at his stomach, trying to see the humor. “I thought I was going to jail.”
“You gotta be careful, too,” Gustavo continued, sweeping his eyes across the surrounding neighborhood. “Everybody’s got cell phone cameras these days. If you get caught on video, they got you for sure.”
“Nobody pays attention to voter registration booths,” Juan huffed.
Gustavo leaned back with his hands on his hips and gave Juan a disparaging look, “What century are you living in? You ever checked out TikTok?”
Juan shook his head and said nothing. He’d heard of TikTok but didn’t really know it was.
Gustavo’s expression turned serious, “You’re lucky I was alone on patrol today, Tio. If my partner had been with me, this little reunion,” he made a swishing motion with his hand to indicate the spot where they were standing, “would have gone a lot differently.”
Juan nodded again, feeling somewhat insulted at being lectured by a kid he’d played with as a baby. But he was smart enough to keep his prideful feelings to himself. Instead, he tried to make a joke of his own, “Yeah, I would have had to pay twice as much.”
At this, Gustavo’s eyebrows arched up and down, and he tilted his head knowingly. His hand made a tiny scratching motion, palm up.
Juan gave his nephew two hundred-dollar bills.