The council, as the
PRI
had done many times before, was going to have to ask an impoverished people to make new sacrifices in order to save their future. What the council had to demonstrate to the people, in a way that would be of immediate and direct benefit to them, was that it not only was sincere about saving Mexico, but that it had the ability to actually w; effect
sweeping changes that would reach all citizens. Unable to provide food, money, or jobs to the people, the Council of 13 attacked two of the
major things that had contributed to the people’s disillusionment with their own government: corruption and unrestrained crime.
The elimination of corruption at all levels throughout the country using swift and uncompromising justice would have many benefits. By administering it at the local level in every state and town, it would be highly visible and provide every citizen in Mexico the feeling that the revolution was a national undertaking, not simply confined to the capital. The use of public executions would also serve as a warning to anyone who entertained the notion of resisting the will of the council. One could turn off the radio or the television or throw away a newspaper. Executions, on the other hand, were an entirely different matter. Most people in Mexico found it difficult to ignore the crack of rifles and the smell of fresh blood H
on hot summer days as the council sought to stamp out corruption and consolidate power.
Corruption was a way of life in Mexico. Everyone, or so it seemed to the poor, from the highest official to the policeman on the street, had a price. To Americans, a country that took its civil servants for granted, the idea of having to pay a policeman a bribe in order to get him to investigate a theft was alien. But in Mexico, it was necessary. If you wanted a telephone, you paid for the installation plus a little extra to the clerk before he processed your request, and then to the man who actually installed the phone. Not to pay simply meant not getting the service you desired. Requests for phones could easily be lost in mountains of paperwork.
Just as easily as the man installing the phone could discover that he was missing a part that could take months to order or was back at the office and he didn’t know when he could possibly come back your way.
Jan was familiar with the system. That is why she, and all the foreign correspondents, required a “fixer,” a Mexican who knew everyone and everything, including the going rates for bribes. The fixer made the necessary arrangements and was paid a set fee to ensure that matters were expedited. Not to have a fixer was akin to wandering through Wonderland without a map.
It was on the elimination of this corruption that the Council of 13
staked its success or failure. Besides, the restoration of law, order, and discipline through direct and immediate action held a natural attraction to military men that could not be resisted.
The system used to execute this policy was a simple one. Any government official suspected of crime or corruption, regardless of rank or position, could be turned in to a representative of the ruling council by any citizen. The representative was normally an Army or Air Force officer, a captain or major who was familiar with the district or town, and was responsible for supervising the operation of government at the local level. Once a citizen had made a complaint, the officer was duty-bound to investigate.
The investigation, by any measure, was quick. An effort was made to corroborate the accuser’s statements by questioning other residents or possible victims of the corrupt official. Once the officer was reasonably sure the charges against the accused official had merit, the officer had the official arrested, and convened a summary trial, usually the following day. Evidence from both parties was heard and considered by the officer before he made his judgment and announced his sentence. Execution of the sentence was swift. By far the most popular was death by firing squad, a technique that ensured there would be few appeals, kept the
prison population down, provided the victim with a clear and decisive resolution to his accusation, and served as a warning to other real and potential offenders.
To some Americans, educated that rights of the accused took precedence over justice, surrounded by lawyers who used the letter of the law to drag out litigations, and unable to come to grips with capital punishment, the use of military tribunals and public executions seemed barbaric.
Even the most ardent supporter of the new regime in Mexico felt the need to publicly condemn the use of what was being called drumhead justice.
This issue, more than any other single action by the Council of 13, kept the government of the United States from accepting the council as the legitimate representative of the people of Mexico. This was, after all, an election year in the United States and law and order, a perennial issue, was viewed as the key to success or failure for most officials running for office. Most American politicians found it impossible to run on a platform of law and order while supporting a government that was in the process of meting out drumhead justice. So they opted for the easy solution, public condemnation of the Council of 13. After all, there were few votes to be gained in Mexico.
«¦
Although the council had expected the government of the United States to protest the policy of summary trials and executions, the members of the council had hoped that the overall good of the long-term benefits would be seen to justify the means. When it became obvious that they had miscalculated, several members had urged the others to abandon the program as a sop to the government of the United States.
Molina, however, supported by Guajardo, saw no other alternative.
The support of the people was critical. On one hand, the program to eliminate corruption had captured the imagination of the people of Mexico and was doing what it had been intended to do, win their support and prepare them for the long struggle to reform Mexico. On the other hand, the same program was preventing the establishment of an accord between the government of the United States and their fledgling government. US
acceptance of a legal representative of Mexico, which would be followed by economic assistance and business opportunities, was just as important to their success as the support of the Mexican people. But it was argued that to publicly buckle under pressure from the United States could kill their cause in the eyes of the Mexican people and other Central and South American governments. As Molina had stated in a public address on the subject, “It is better to be poor, hungry, and master of our own house than to be slaves to the whims of a foreign government.”
While such a statement appealed to the machismo pride of the Mexican people, it did not solve the problem of winning recognition by the gov ernment
of the United States. To do this, Colonel Molina turned to the media, as he had done before, to place their case directly before the American public. Some members of the council urged Molina to recon sider. Allowing the American press to report on the trials and executions was an unnecessary risk which, if not properly handled, could backfire on them. When challenged to come up with a practical alternative, however, none did, and with great reluctance, they accepted Molina’s solution.
Molina assigned to Guajardo the task of seeing that the matter be given the priority and emphasis that it deserved.
Guajardo, while stating that he was not the best choice for the job, nevertheless went about doing as he had been directed. It was no surprise to Molina and the other members of the council when Guajardo recommended that Jan Fields be given free rein to study the program and report on it as she saw fit.
At first, Jan Fields had been reluctant to tackle the assignment. There was in the United States, despite the popularity of gratuitous and graphic violence on television, a great reluctance to broadcast real executions.
She recognized, however, that this story was not only important, but also would be a challenge to shoot and have broadcast. Besides, the opportunity to have the freedom to do what she wanted was too hard to resist.
In the end, the very fact that it was such a great challenge was what had driven her to accept the invitation.
The only real hang-up Jan had concerning the story was the need to work with Colonel Guajardo. Within the crew, Ted referred to Guajardo as Darth Vader, while Joe Bob preferred Attila the Spick. Their new fixer called him “the Dark One.” Jan found all those names apt and useful.
Despite the fact that he had been instrumental in putting her and her team in the enviable position of being able to go anywhere and talk to anyone, Jan didn’t like working with the man. He had even arranged for the new fixer who now traveled with them, a young and very likable man with an excellent command of English. Everyone suspected the fixer was with Mexican Army counterintelligence. His actions, especially in the presence of senior Army officers, reinforced this suspicion. Still, he, like the association with Guajardo, was useful and, in Mexico, very necessary, especially since “the Purification” had begun.
Stories of members of the former government being arrested, tried, and shot the same day were legion. The program, unofficially dubbed “the Purification,” was rumored to be widespread and to touch every level of society. There were no news releases that spoke of the Purification and no statistics available that delineated its scope and effectiveness. It was just there, like a shadow, following everyone. And yet Jan and her crew had noted in the streets and markets as they traveled about the country that the people radiated a degree of happiness and energy she had never seen before in Mexico. When the average Mexican discussed the Purification, he did so enthusiastically and with a smile on his face. Only those who had been connected with the former government or who might have been involved in some form of corruption betrayed a sense of apprehension that bordered on fear. On the surface, it appeared as if the Purification was both popular and effective, a theory Jan intended to prove or disprove.
The
problems she faced iff putting together her report on the Purification were monumental. In a nutshell, Jan Fields had to create a piece that covered an emotional and controversial subject in a very detached and objective manner. Even her own crew was split over the issue. Ted, her shooter, was adamantly against what he called the nationalization of vigilante justice. Joe Bob, on the other hand, thought it was great, recommending that they take copious notes in the hope that they might convince the president of the United States to adopt a similar program.
Jan, for her part, kept her own counsel. She had her opinion, but worked to keep it to herself and off camera.
The approach she had taken was typical of Jan Fields. Told she had a free hand to do as she pleased, she took Guajardo at his word. Searching for what appeared to be a typical case, Jan had sat in a district courthouse she had selected from a list of all courts in the Federal District of Mexico and waited for a complaint to be filed against a corrupt official or criminal.
She didn’t have long to wait.
Within an hour, an old lady dressed in black hobbled into the courthouse and asked to see the captain of the guard. When Jan and her crew followed her into the captain’s office, the old lady almost left before filing her complaint. The captain, a friendly man, slightly overweight and with a broad mustache, convinced her to stay. Hesitantly, she told her story.
It seemed a shopkeeper in the market was routinely overcharging his customers. The old lady, tired of this, complained to a policeman. The policeman, feigning concern, followed her to the shop. There, in her presence, he asked the shopkeeper some questions. For his part, the shopkeeper made a great to-do about the high cost of transportation and produce, showing the policeman a ledger that was supposed to be a record of receipts. The policeman, appearing satisfied with the answer, according to the old woman, turned to her and told the woman that all was in order. Not convinced, the old woman left the shop but did not go home.
Instead, she crossed the street and watched through the window. What she saw confirmed her suspicions and angered her. The policeman, convinced she was gone, was sharing a drink with the shopkeeper, laughing and talking. The old woman, sure they were laughing at her, waited until they parted, shaking hands, before coming down to the district court.
The captain, taking notes and nodding on occasion, listened to the old woman while he tried to ignore Jan and the camera. When she was finished, the captain thanked the old woman and, aware of the importance this case had assumed because of Jan’s presence, immediately began his investigation.
Much of the work was done by the captain himself. In this way, there were fewer hands involved, a safeguard against new opportunities for compromise and corruption. After a few phone calls, the captain was able to find out the name of the officer who had been on duty in the area where the shop was, which station he worked out of, and when he would be available. He also called several markets and stores, asking each of them what it cost them to purchase selected items and what they, in turn, charged their customers for the same items. He checked the prices with an officer in the Ministries of Commerce and Agriculture. Finished with these preliminaries, the captain, followed by Jan and her crew, left the courthouse for the shop where the old woman had been.
En route, the captain explained that much of their success in finding true offenders was the speed and surprise that they achieved. Jan at first took this as a warning that she and her crew were to be as circumspect as possible. The captain, however, went on, stating that often the sudden and unexpected appearance of an Army or Air Force officer asking questions resulted in immediate and profuse cooperation. “The longer an investigation lasts,” he pointed out, “the more time the accused has to fabricate a story. If you come in quickly, without warning, and armed with a few facts, often the accused will crumple under the initial impact and confess in the hope of clemency.”