GrowingOlderHopeWiser

Juan Carlos argued with El Patron John Smith. It was closing time at the Plant City Strawberry Festival, and the crowd had dissipated, leaving only a few stragglers here and there. The argument escalated into a bare-knuckle fistfight. 

Juan Carlos was an ex-middleweight boxer from Mexico, down on his luck. He had killed a man in the ring and swore never to box again. He had come for work, like so many others; he kept his head down and did his job from sunrise to sunset in the hot fields, day in and day out. He was paid: $1.75 per flat. The minimum wage was supposed to be guaranteed, but El Patron had other ideas; he had his own pay scale, skimming his workers’ salaries. Juan Carlos needed this job; Mama back home in Mexico was going to lose her farm unless she paid her back taxes. 

Maria Quintana worked as hard as any man, but El Patron was a racist who constantly gave her a hard time and threatened her with deportation. Maria was a beautiful young lady with long, raven-black hair, which she kept tied up under a cap to avoid attracting attention. El Patron gave her a bad feeling. She did not like the way he looked at her.

The night was pregnant with moisture, hot and steamy. Maria made her way back to the living quarters with only a flashlight to light the way. El Patron, drunk as usual, saw her and followed Maria down the dusty road to her cabin. He attacked her and dragged her to a wooded area and attempted to rape her, but she fought back, giving him a roundhouse kick to the groin and scratching his face. “I’m going to kill you, puta!” he slurred. He could not get up. Maria, hysterical, ran to her cabin. Locking the door. Before long, a couple of trucks pulled up to her cabin, shining their headlights and auxiliary lights, blinding her as she tried to see who was out there. The good old boys covered their faces pretending to be from ICE. It was three of them. Maria did not stand a chance against them.

The next day, they found her tied to a tree. She had drawn a cross on the dirt next to her. She was taken to the hospital and was lying in the ICU. Maria, in a coma, could not speak, and no one knew who had attacked her. The police were no help. They ignored cases involving migrant workers. They claimed it was her own people who had attacked her. Juan Carlos swore vengeance.

Juan Carlos returned to the cabin and began his own investigation with the help of his friend Lazaro Garcia, a detective with the Lakeland Police Department. Lazaro did not believe it was migrants who attacked her and refused orders to close the case. 

It had rained heavily, and most of the evidence was washed away, but a set of dually tire tracks with a distinctive star pattern on one of the outer tires remained. 

“This is something we can use. We need to check the trucks around here. There is something on this tire that is like a fingerprint,” said Lazaro. 

A piece of ripped shirt was found on a rusty nail on the fence with fresh blood. “One of them is hurt,” said Juan Carlos. They knew there were at least two trucks from the tire tracks, and now they knew one of them was injured—two trucks, at least two perps. Lazaro set up a makeshift crime board in Juan Carlos’s cabin. 

Juan Carlos stayed by Maria’s bedside waiting for her to wake up. Lazaro and his two sons checked trucks around the fields. El Patron wore long-sleeved shirts for a week despite the oppressive heat, and he sported a scratch on his face. Juan Carlos got reports of this from several of the workers who were on the lookout for him.

At the Strawberry Festival, Juan Carlos confronted him, and they began to argue. “She is a pig!” Said John Smith with a sneer. The argument escalated to a bare-knuckles fight. Juan Carlos, in his anger, did not hold back and landed a knockout punch; John Smith was out cold for a minute. A crowd had formed; Juan Carlos was arrested and taken to headquarters and charged with assault with a lethal weapon: his boxer fists.

Lazaro spotted a dually outside police headquarters and checked the tires; one had a star-shaped piece of metal embedded in the outer tread. Upon checking the license plate, it turned out the truck belonged to one of the police officers. Jeff Hastings was a 20-year veteran of the Lakeland Police Department and a best friend of El Patron John Smith. The pieces were falling into place. Lakeland still had an active group of Klansmen: John Smith, Jeff Hastings, and Preacher Tom Reynolds were known to be Klansmen. 

Juan Carlos took his one phone call to call his mother. He was conflicted between taking care of his mother and taking care of Maria. “ Son, you can not be convicted and never return to me. Be careful; you know how things get twisted for us in America. God will take care of Maria, and justice will be served. Vengeance is his, not yours.”

Juan Carlos cried that night he spent in jail, not for himself but from the frustration and injustice his people still endured. 

The next day, John Smith, Jeff Hastings, and Tom Reynolds were at the Strawberry Festival, drunk and rowdy, by the pig sties, laughing and bragging about Maria. They were overheard by Mabel Swanson and Cathy Jones, the local quilting bee ladies. John Smith stumbled and hit his head on a trough. Mabel and Cathy screamed, and a crowd gathered around the sty. John Smith was dead. The police were called. 

Detective Lazaro arrested Jeff Hastings and Tom Reynold on suspicion of attacking Maria. Mabel and Cathy reported what they overheard the suspects say. The evidence did the rest. 

Maria finally woke from her coma and gave her account of what had transpired that night. Juan Carlos was released. The ME report stated that John Smith died of his head injury.