Hey, blogees. I fired our lawyer Wednesday and hired some lawyers with juice; one is the brother of the mayor, one has a grandfather on the supreme court and a nephew in congress. I don't know which of these politicos I'm supposed to pay but I think it's the nephew in congress since he controls funding to the local ministries.
Anyway, the mayor's brother marched me into the DA's office Wednesday, and as he had some goods on him, the man immediately called his subordinates to get our damn case to a judge. Then in Mexico one never knows if such things are theater to save face or actually happening. But it felt good!
On Wednesday Derek also had to make a statment about the supposed break-in; the public attroney and our attorney (before I fired her) both advised him to say nothing. You can take the 5th in Mexico, too. So the authorities badgered him for two hours and he stuck to his guns, God bless him. "My lawyer told me to say nothing," he kept saying, as they prodded him with questions, unable to believe that's exactly what he'd do.
Funnier was my forty-minute session with the chief adminstrator of the Ministerio Publico. I brought placards in Spanish declaring, "No justice for Americans in Mexico," and, "The government knows the name and address of our dog's kidnapper but hasn't done a thing!" into the entrance hall.
I sat there as all the bureaucrats passed and read the signs. The administrator was soon summoned, and summoned me upstairs, obviously flummoxed by my action. "It just isn't done," he said. "It's not our fault, we're just trying to help you." "We're just a small part of the process."
And I: "But you are part of the government, aren't you? And doesn't Mexico have free speech? Are you going to arrest me?"
"You don't understand--it's just not done here, it won't help."
"If it won't help how come I'm getting all this personal attention from your honor?"
"I'm trying to explain how it is."
"That I can't do it?"
"Not exactly, but there may be a federal law forbidding non-citizens from protesting publicly."
"Really? So the Federales are coming after me and my butt's going to rot in jail?"
"I didn't say that."
"You got kids?"
"If ten weeks passed after one were kidnapped and nothing was done, how would you feel?
"That's not the same! We're talking about a pet here!"
"No, were talking about a service dog, which Mexicans don't understand, as they treat their dogs like furry alarm clocks."
"Guard dogs, underfed and full of worms. You do worm your kids, don't you?"
"BTW, is the public lawyer here to talk with me as we arranged?"
"No, he had to leave on an emergency."
(Right: Mexico is full of emergencies.)
"Ok, why didn't you tell me instead of wasting forty minutes of my time. I'm a doctor, I'll send you my bill."
And with that I left the king of dead-end thinking confused, wondering why gringos are so crazy. I did something no one had done before and no one is likely to do again. But ah, the pleasure of it. How I enjoyed my Socratic ignorance. He could never wrap his brain around mine, poor concrete-thinking culturally rigid unimaginative Kafkaesque functionary!
All for today,