Searching for Pilar, page 25
She was equally surprised at the openness of the countryside once they finally left the sprawling suburbs and drove north toward San José. She had spent several vacations in the beach resorts along both coasts of Mexico, but this was her first trip to the interior. She thought the countryside was beautiful.
When Diego parked the rental car in front of Yolanda and José’s house, many people came spilling out the door. Neighbors, including Señor Marco, hurried to the car to greet them. Diego’s accomplishments on the fútbol field now were a source of pride in the small town. He had been the first young man from San José to play on a Mexico City professional team, and now he was playing professional soccer in Houston, Texas. Young boys kicking soccer balls back and forth had been excitedly awaiting his arrival. When they saw him, they yelled his name: “Diego! Diego! Diego!”
Diego seemed embarrassed by the attention, but Mary laughed. “I didn’t realize I was traveling with a local hero!”
“It’s a far cry from the attitude toward me when I came home from Mexico City without Pilar,” Diego murmured.
Yolanda and José stood in the doorway. José had his arm around Yolanda and was beaming like a proud parent.
Diego shook hands with some of the boys who hoped to soak up a bit of his talent. He had brought Christmas presents for the family, and he asked the boys to bring them in from the car. He came around the back of the car and opened Mary’s door for her. Then he steered her through the crowd, keeping his arm around her. Yolanda grabbed him and hugged him as hard as she could. José enveloped both of them in his big arms.
“Mama, Papa,” Diego said as he untangled himself, “may I present Maria Elena Chavez. Maria and her brother, Juan Pablo, are the children of Victor Chavez—Julio and Miguel Chavez’s brother. They are Alejandro’s first cousins.”
“Truly?” Yolanda asked, astonished. “How did you find Victor’s children? No one knows where Victor is.”
“I searched for Victor when I arrived in the United States,” Diego explained. “I knew I needed someone who knew the ways of that country to help me—” Diego stopped himself from mentioning Pilar yet. “Sadly, Victor died almost at the same time as his brother. But Julio knew I wanted to contact Victor. On his deathbed, Julio told me a story that he had been silent about for years. That information eventually led me to his children.”
Diego saw Alejandro and Concepción standing inside the house behind his parents. Alejandro was holding Concepción’s hand. Every time he saw the little girl, Diego was struck by the resemblance to Pilar when she was a child.
“Alejandro,” Diego said, “this is your first cousin, Maria Elena. Maria, this is Alejandro and the beautiful Señorita Concepción Yolanda,” Diego said, leaning down to give Concepción a kiss on the cheek.
“Maria, bienvenidos,” said Alejandro, who spoke only Spanish, kissing her on both cheeks. “My family lost track of your father before I was born. It was a great mystery according to my grandmother, whose name was also Maria Elena. They will be excited and happy to find out he had children and that you have come home.”
Mary held out her hand to Concepción, who reached out to shake it and then ran back to hide behind her father.
“And Pilar?” Alejandro said to Diego. “Have you found her? Do you know anything about my wife?”
Diego put his hand on his heart and said, “Please, we will talk about this soon, I promise.” He glanced at Mary, who nodded.
Sensing the need to keep things welcoming for their new guest, Yolanda stepped forward and gave Mary a big hug. “Bienvenidos, Maria! I am so happy to learn about you and your brother. Is he with you?”
“No, he had to work, Señora Gonzales,” Mary replied in Spanish. “He is a lawyer in Houston. But he sends his very best wishes to all of you.”
“Por favor,” Yolanda scolded. “Call us Yolanda, or YoYo, and José. We are practically family.”
The neighbors who had been waiting outside streamed into the house. There was laughter and chatter such as Mary had never experienced. Yolanda had been cooking for days in anticipation of the visit, and so everyone was invited to sit down to eat and drink.
Mary’s Spanish had improved, but it was still just conversational. She had to rely on Diego to translate more substantive discussions. She caught Diego looking at her, a question in his eyes. She smiled back at him. This is what family feels like, she thought.
Diego chose not to discuss Pilar that night, and no one pressed him for information. By the time family and friends left, everyone was tired and ready for sleep. He asked Alejandro to return alone the next day.
Alejandro appeared at the kitchen door early the next morning. When everyone was seated around the kitchen table, Diego said that he had something important to tell them.
“You know that I have been searching for Pilar ever since I left San José,” he said. The room was quiet. “I found her, Alejandro. I should say ‘we’ found her. Without Maria’s help, it would not have happened.”
Yolanda made the sign of the cross and then raised her arms to heaven. “Gracias, Diós,” she said. Then she got up and hugged Diego. “Gracias, Diego and Maria.”
“Where is she?” Alejandro was shaken. “I had almost given up hope, Diego. How is she? Why didn’t you bring her with you?”
“Let me explain, Alejandro.” Diego cleared his throat and glanced at Mary for encouragement. “Pilar went to Mexico City to apply for what she thought was a good-paying secretarial job. It was a trap, however. Pilar and two other young girls were drugged and kidnapped. One of the cartels smuggled them across the border to Houston. They were kept as slaves and forced to sell their bodies.”
Alejandro hung his head.
“Oh no!” Yolanda cried. José put his arm around his wife but nodded to Diego to continue.
“Their captors told them that if they didn’t do what they ordered them to do, they would kill their families in Mexico. They knew who and where you and Concepción were, Alejandro. They also threatened to kill their mothers and fathers.”
Hearing this, Yolanda gasped, and Alejandro buried his head in his hands.
“This last year, the madam who had come to own her forced Pilar to work as her bookkeeper. Pilar had to make illegal bank deposits. The American authorities raided the madam’s business and arrested her, her son, and the men who had kidnapped Pilar—and they rescued all of the girls who had been forced to work there. Now, because of what she learned and did working as the madam’s bookkeeper, there is a danger an American court could send her to prison for a long time.”
“But you said she was forced to do it,” Alejandro erupted.
“Maria and I have hired an American lawyer for her. Maria says he is the best. He will try to trade what she knows about the madam’s business for her freedom.”
Seeing the devastated faces of his family, he added, “He thinks there is a very good chance. These are bad people that the authorities are more interested in convicting. Pilar is not their main interest.”
Diego waited a few minutes for his parents and Alejandro to take in all he had said. “Maria Elena is an American lawyer. Please, ask your questions. She will try to explain.”
José and Alejandro asked Mary the same questions again and again. When everyone was exhausted from going over the facts, it was afternoon. “I must pick up Concepción,” Alejandro said. “What do I tell my daughter about when she will see her mother?”
Mary spoke in a soft voice: “For now, I wouldn’t tell anybody, including your daughter, anything. There is too much uncertainty. But rest assured that Diego and I are committed to doing all we can to free Pilar. She’s my family too.”
Alejandro kissed Mary on both cheeks and her hands. “Sí, you are. And I thank you and Diego with all my heart for finding my Pilar.”
“Alejandro,” Diego said, shifting uneasily in his chair, “Pilar says she cannot bring shame on you by returning to San José after all she has been forced to do.”
“Diego, you know that Pilar is the love of my life. I blame myself and my selfishness for her going to Mexico City. I need her. It doesn’t matter what she did. Can you tell her that?”
“Of course,” Diego assured him. But Pilar had been firm, and he wasn’t sure he could convince her.
Diego and Mary spent four days in San José before they had to return to Houston. Yolanda took to Mary’s sweet personality immediately. Alejandro brought her to meet his parents and many relatives, who were delighted to know that Victor had had a good life in the United States. They warmly welcomed his daughter and made her feel at home.
Before they left, Mary told Yolanda, “I will never remember all the people I have met. But I will think of them forever with love.”
“Remember, Maria Elena,” Yolanda told her as Diego packed the car, “you always have a home with your family in San José.”
To her son, she said, “You need to bring this beautiful young lady here often, Diego. I think that she is very good for you.”
CHAPTER 26
THE PROSECUTION
“Tell me why we should offer your client a plea deal or immunity, James. Esther Diaz, Rosa’s bottom girl, told us Pilar was Rosa’s closest confidant. Rosa’s son, Tito, told us Pilar kept the books. We know from the bank’s records she made all deposits in amounts that she knew the bank wouldn’t have to report to the IRS.” Robert Grossman, one of the assistant US attorneys for the Southern District of Texas, leaned over the table in the interrogation room, glaring at Pilar while he barked at her lawyer. “She’s not another dumb chica. She schemed her way out of the bordello to get close to Rosa.”
Robert was the most senior attorney in the prosecutor’s office and had a reputation for getting convictions at any cost. He was a large man who liked to wear dark three-piece suits and use his size and baritone voice to intimidate people. Pilar looked down at her hands. She was too broken and ashamed to meet his terrifying gaze. James had told her that unless they could strike a deal, she would be tried as a co-conspirator and potentially sent to prison in the US for many years.
“You don’t want to do that, Robert,” James said in a steady voice, as if he were speaking to a child who was acting in a rash manner. In contrast to Robert’s dark clothes, James wore a light gray European-cut suit, crisp white cotton shirt, and light blue tie. “Señora Chavez was Rosa’s victim, the same as those other poor girls. She was forced to work as a sex slave in the bordello for more than a year. Then Rosa forced her to sit in the same office with her, doing her dirty work on the financial end of the business. Every night the old woman locked my client up by herself in a guarded, shabby dark room. She had no choice or free will in anything that happened at Los Arboles.” He squeezed Pilar’s hand for encouragement under the table, but his face was expressionless. “It was just chance that she had the technical skills Rosa needed after her daughter died. Eduardo Ayala cleverly tried to use Señora Chavez as his pawn to steal Rosa’s business. Pilar was in an untenable position—a helpless young woman caught between two mad dogs! Besides, she’s a small fish. If you’re smart, you can use what my client learned while working with Rosa to put the old lady away for good.”
Robert ignored the veiled insult and began to ruffle some papers lying on the table as if he was looking for some data.
“We already have several girls who have agreed to testify against Rosa,” Robert said, waving one of the papers at James and Pilar and rising to his full height.
“You think you have the girls now, but that won’t last,” James calmly replied. “Trafficking victims always say they will testify while they are in detention, but when they are released and their pimps threaten to harm them or their families, they will clam up or disappear. It’s a long time between crime and trial, as you well know.”
“The department is expediting this case because of its significance,” Robert retorted.
Pilar tried to follow the mental game these two men were playing, but it was too confusing. All she knew for sure was that she was in a very dangerous position. She trembled.
“Rosa’s son has agreed to cooperate,” Robert said. “He’ll tell the jury what I’ve told you.”
“Tito, Esther, and others may take pleas and agree to testify, but it’s obvious they’re all dumber than dirt and would say anything to get a deal. Jurors are sure to doubt them,” James scoffed.
“Why is a jury more likely to believe this girl?” Robert asked, giving Pilar a disparaging look.
Pilar jumped when the big, terrible man pointed his finger at her with disdain. She looked at James for help. James saw that she was shaken and trembling. He took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around Pilar’s shoulders.
“Thank you, señor,” Pilar whispered.
James got up from the table and stood eye to eye with Robert. “Aside from being a more sympathetic character than that bunch of sleaze you just listed, Señora Chavez has a good story to tell the jury. She was targeted and kidnapped by Eduardo Ayala, long considered a vicious criminal on both sides of the border. She had an unblemished character and a good job as an office manager and bookkeeper in a pottery factory in her hometown. She is from a close-knit family. Her brother, a professional athlete, has spent the last four years searching for her. She is not the usual runaway. Her English is good enough to be able to tell her story in a way that will make jurors see she is an intelligent, honest woman.”
James and Robert were still standing and facing off like two dogs before a fight, but Pilar realized that both men were looking down at her now, evaluating her credibility. She hung her head, afraid that they would realize the shameful, unworthy woman she had become.
A female associate of Robert’s who was sitting across the table from James was affected. She poured a glass of ice water from the pitcher on the table, got up, and walked around the table to Pilar. She set the glass down in front of her. Robert grimaced at his associate, who pretended not to notice while she returned to her seat.
Breaking the stalemate, James said, “Best of all, Robert, Señora Chavez has firsthand knowledge of the dirty details of the pimping, sex-trafficking, and money-laundering operations you need to prove in order to put Rosa Rodriguez and her family away for a long time. Let’s face it, you don’t have anything in writing that documents what went on at Los Arboles other than bank and telephone records. My client is willing to fully cooperate with the prosecution. In return, we want immunity from prosecution for her,” James said. “She is a victim who deserves justice and mercy. Prosecuting this woman, who has suffered such undeserved brutality, would be a crime in itself.” James raised his voice and brought his fist down on the table for emphasis of his point.
“So you argue,” Robert said, acting unimpressed. He nodded to his associate to pick up his papers and then walked out of the room without the usual lawyerly pleasantries.
As soon as the door closed, Pilar let out a long sigh. She laid her head on the table in front of her. “That terrible man hates me. He knows I am shameful. He wants to lock me up, just like all the others. And he is angry with you for trying to help a girl like me.”
“Don’t give up, Pilar,” James said. “The prosecution needs you. We just have to let Robert get over his own ego and convince him that you are more use to him on the witness stand than in prison.”
Pilar thought, So my fate is to go from one prison to another.
Then she whispered, “I worry about Josefina, señor. Do you know where she is and what will happen to her?”
James sat down again at the table next to Pilar. He said, “ICE rounded up all the undocumented girls and took them to one of their INS detention centers. ICE will deport them back to Mexico unless they offer testimony against the defendants,” James said.
“Poor Josefina. She will have nowhere to go. She always said her family would not want her now. She was only thirteen when she was brought here. What will she do to support herself other than sell her body again?”
“Diego asked me to represent her, but I told him I could not, because it would create a conflict of interest,” James said. Then he smiled. “I arranged for a friend, a very good lawyer, to take her case.”
Pilar felt relief. “Thank you, Señor Zamora. I am grateful.”
James got up from his chair and started walking around the table. The room was small, without any windows. Every time he had to work in this room, he felt a little claustrophobic. “Pilar, I meant what I told Robert about their evidence against Rosa not being as strong as it should be to put her away for good. Could you lead the Feds to any written records for Rosa’s business? Right now, it’s just a bunch of rats taking plea deals and scared women who may not testify against her. Even if you testify, it will be your word against hers. With nothing on paper to show what she was doing, who she was paying, and who was paying her, the Justice Department’s case could fail to get the big payoff they want.”
“What would help?” Pilar asked.
“Anything in writing,” James said.
Pilar closed her eyes. She imagined herself back in the little room with the pink lamp and the dancing fairies. Then she thought she heard the guards outside her door and the sound of their radio, keeping her from sleep. Remembering those lonely nights made her feel sad. She didn’t want to relive them, but then she spoke: “Every night after I started working for Rosa in the office, I was alone in my room with nothing to do,” Pilar said. “Sometimes, to keep from going crazy, I would take paper from my office and write.”
“About what?” James sounded intensely curious.
“Some of it was personal. Sometimes I wrote the stories Rosa told me, like how she’d built her business or how she’d hid property in the names of family members, all sorts of things. She liked to brag about ways she’d outsmarted men. She said all men were stupid and meant to be outwitted by clever women like herself.
