Tio Pablo’s Operation
“Two hundred dollars?” Juan’s uncle Pablo doubled over in a coughing fit, cigar smoke erupting from his nose and mouth, washing over Juan in an acrid haze. Waiving away Juan’s offer to help, Pablo regained his composure and leaned heavily with one elbow against the table for balance. “In the old days, they’d be lucky if we gave them a twenty-dollar bill. Usually, it was just a ten…”
“I’m sorry,” Juan stammered, “But I was gonna get in trouble if I didn’t think quick.”
Still wiping tears, Pablo patted Juan affectionately on the shoulder, “No problem, don’t worry about it. I’m not worried about the money. Our new clients have so much cash, you wouldn’t believe it!”
The headquarters of the nonprofit organization, Voz de la Gente, was a cheap, rented building located in a crumbling commercial district of south Phoenix. Despite the empty parking lot and the ‘Closed’ sign prominently displayed out front, the tiny building was swarming with activity. A stream of men kept arriving from the alleyway entrance, queuing to talk to Pablo.
“I don’t mind if you take it out of my pay…” Juan began, but Pablo cut him off.
“Nonsense!” He took another long pull on his cigar and held it for a dramatic moment before blowing out a long stream of smoke. “Now show me how many tortillas you’ve gathered for me.”
Juan emptied the contents of his satchel. Quickly sorting them into stacks of five ballots each, he counted out twenty-two. “All these are already signed,” he said.
“Were they filled out for Democrats or Republicans?” Pablo asked, leaning closer.
Juan shrugged, “Neither. I had them sign blank forms.”
Pablo picked up the stack of envelopes, “Excellent!” Pablo turned towards a skinny, studious-looking man typing quietly on a tablet. “Twenty-two,” he said. The man nodded and entered the number, then reached for a pen and started filling out the blank ballots.
Even though Juan was routinely breaking laws now, the utter disregard for the security of official documents nevertheless shocked him. “What about the driver’s license numbers I used? Won’t they be able to tell they’re fake?”
Pablo spared Juan a quick, condescending glance before returning to the ballot. “We might lose some,” he said. “But they usually don’t check.”
“OK,” Juan shrugged, “how many will I lose?”
Laughter rumbled from Pablo’s enormous belly like distant thunder, “You won’t lose anything. We’ve been doing this for more than thirty years. Trust me, we know our business. Don’t worry, I’ll pay for all of them!”
Then Pablo produced an enormous wad of cash and started peeling off bills. “Here you go, nephew,” he said, handing Juan a thick stack of bills. “$4,400, plus a little bit extra for your trouble. OK?”
“OK.” Juan accepted the money gratefully and started to get up to leave.
Pablo placed a hand on Juan’s forearm, “One more moment, please.”
Juan sat back down, casting a furtive glance at the line of men waiting to speak to Pablo.
Pablo didn’t seem to care how many people were waiting to speak to him. He tapped off a long bit of ash into a nearby ashtray and gave Juan a long, penetrating stare. “You’re not like these other cabróns,” he said. “You’re smart, Juan.”
“Gracias, Tio.”
Pablo continued, “You’re not doing this just for the money, are you? You’ve already got a good job at the metal fabrication plant. No?”
Juan nodded.
“Then why?” Pablo lifted his chin to indicate the other people gathered in this building. “Why are you here?”
Juan thought about this for a moment. He struggled to articulate his thoughts. “Mmm… well, sir, I just think someone needs to care for the people. It’s just the way the world is.” Juan grimaced. That wasn’t a very good answer, he thought.
“I’ve heard you talking,” Pablo said sagely. “You’re a true believer. These other guys, they don’t care who pays them or why. But you really want Biden to win, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why?”
Juan inhaled deeply and immediately regretted it. The stale cigar smoke was sucked up with the breath that he immediately released with a choking sigh, “As you know, Sir,” he began formally, “just a few months ago, I became a US citizen. President Biden signed my certificate. I grew up learning about loyalty, and this country has been very good to my family. So yes, I’m here. And I’ll do anything to get Biden re-elected. Anything.”
“Good, good,” Pablo smiled and took a long drag on his cigar. “Then I think you’re just the kind of man I’ve been looking for. I think I’ve got a different job for you now.”
“What is it?”
“First,” Pablo waved one of the waiting men away. He leaned forward so that Juan was staring at his jagged teeth, “Can you drive a delivery truck?”
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