BajaNomad

ELINVESTI8'S LIFE STORY FROM CHIHUAHUA TO BAJA AND BEYOND

Packoderm - 11-25-2007 at 01:03 PM

I can't believe that there has been 59 views on this post without any responses. What a story!

[Edited on 7-6-2018 by BajaNomad]

DENNIS - 11-25-2007 at 01:06 PM

Well, I glanced at it and decided that I first had to make a beer run so I could read with a Pacifico or six.

Santiago - 11-25-2007 at 01:08 PM

And I thought growing up in Bakersfield was bad....

vandenberg - 11-25-2007 at 01:13 PM

Thank you very much. I thoroughly enjoyed your life's story.:yes:

Paulina - 11-25-2007 at 01:15 PM

I wasn't sure what to say other than, "Wow".

David, might I suggest a few more paragraph breaks to make reading it on the computer a little easier on the eyes.

P<*)))><

ELINVESTIG8R - 11-25-2007 at 01:30 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by Paulina
I wasn't sure what to say other than, "Wow".

David, might I suggest a few more paragraph breaks to make reading it on the computer a little easier on the eyes.

P<*)))><


Thank you Paulina, I went back and made the correction you suggested. Hopefully it can be better read now. Just so everyone knows I have never shared these events with anyone outside of my family until now.

Packoderm - 11-25-2007 at 01:30 PM

To make paragraph breaks on this forum, you have to press enter one or two times after each paragraph. Tab does nothing.

It is probably a good thing you ran away when you did. After reading about him on google, Ervil might have killed you if you didn't. Why the heck did you head south when you wanted to get to Arizona?

Barry A. - 11-25-2007 at 01:41 PM

Investigator------------

You have GOT to get all this, and the rest, all down on paper, organized, and then write a book (or two) ----first book "Homeless--The Early Years", and a second book "Adventures in Success"--------------WOW, they will be a best sellers if produced correctly by a publisher------------Your experiences are unique, and rare, as I am sure you realize, and deffinitely of interest to 10's of thousands of people, if not more.

There are experienced authors on this board that may help you, if asked. Good Luck!!

I look forward to your continued posts.

barry

ELINVESTIG8R - 11-25-2007 at 01:41 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by Packoderm
To make paragraph breaks on this forum, you have to press enter one or two times after each paragraph. Tab does nothing.

It is probably a good thing you ran away when you did. After reading about him on google, Ervil might have killed you if you didn't. Why the heck did you head south when you wanted to get to Arizona?


I was a lost kid finding his way through life and it was not unil that olive grove in Maneadero that I decided to find my way to my grandmother. I really do not remember why I went south to be honest. I am glad I did because I met Mama Espinoza in El Rosario.

Minnow - 11-25-2007 at 01:52 PM

There is a movie in there somewhere.

David. You are a survivor, and a Great person. Thank you for your story and your service to our country.

It would have been easy for you to take the low road, but you stood tall. Saludos Welcome to Baja Nomad.

islandmusicteach - 11-25-2007 at 02:34 PM

That is a truly incredible story - I felt like I was lying in that ditch right alongside you when the coyotes attacked...

ELINVESTIG8R - 11-25-2007 at 02:41 PM

Thank you everyone for your kind words and suggestions.

There is another part to this story where before going south. I did make it into California with the help of a Ranger from Torrey Pine Park in San Diego all those years ago. He and his wife and some of their friends got me across the San Diego Border. I stayed with them for a while in Torrey Pines until he had to turn me over to the police because he could not take care of me and I ended up in Juvenile Hall. They say there is a story in the San Diego paper about me but I have never found it. The Bishop of my uncle’s Mormon Church Ward Mr. Cooper who owned a dairy farm near where my grandmother lived came visit me at Juvenile hall until my Uncle Melvin could come and get me. For some reason I ended up back in Baja California and I am still trying to piece that one together. There is so much that I have forgotten. But if I think hard and ask my uncle some questions he will answer them for me.

Barry A. - 11-25-2007 at 02:45 PM

-----"----there is so much that I have forgotten------"

I am not surprised considering what you went thru all those years. There is much that we all have forgotten---some good, and probably lots bad------that is the way of our brain protecting our equilibrium and sanity, I am thinking.

It will take time to remember it all-----------but it is worth it.

barry

ELINVESTIG8R - 11-25-2007 at 02:58 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by Barry A.
-----"----there is so much that I have forgotten------"

I am not surprised considering what you went thru all those years. There is much that we all have forgotten---some good, and probably lots bad------that is the way of our brain protecting our equilibrium and sanity, I am thinking.

It will take time to remember it all-----------but it is worth it.

barry


You are right Barry. I can't think of anything bad happening to me with regard to people besides Ervil. I just can't remember why I went back to Baja California. My grandmother has since died and the only other person who could possibly tell me is my uncle. I will have to talk to him. I just recently decided to write down my remembrances so everything is rusty in my mind.

ELINVESTIG8R - 11-25-2007 at 03:10 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by grover
Holy Smokes!

Quite a few *******s in that account. I hope if it stirs any memories that they are good ones. Where is Los Molinos, by the way?

Congratulations on escaping that nightmare and on making a good life for yourself and your loved ones.


Thank you Grover. Los Molinos is located South of Colonia Vicente Guerrero and north of San Quintin BC. on the west side of the highway toward the beach. All that bad stuff you read about happened way after I left the colony in Chihuahua Mexico. The *******s you read about are my brother and sister. They were both found not guilty of the murders they were suspected of in Utah. My brother Eddie was murdered by one of my half brothers Heber LeBaron in Texas and is now serving life in a Texas prison. Ervil has since died in a Utah prison of a heart attack many years ago. There have been books written about all the bad stuff. Ervil LeBaron Prophet of Blood I think was one of them. There was also a movie made for TV about Ervil LeBaron called Prophet of Evil: The Ervil LeBaron Story (1993). Brian Dennehy played the part of Ervil LeBaron.

ELINVESTIG8R - 11-25-2007 at 03:11 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by Minnow
There is a movie in there somewhere.

David. You are a survivor, and a Great person. Thank you for your story and your service to our country.

It would have been easy for you to take the low road, but you stood tall. Saludos Welcome to Baja Nomad.


Thank you Minnow.

Santiago - 11-25-2007 at 04:09 PM

Grover - thanks for the link - I've just spent the last 30 minutes trying to get the hair on the back of my neck to lay down.

ELINVESTIG8R - 11-25-2007 at 04:54 PM

Here are some Google Earth coordinates to Colonia LeBaron in Chihuahua and Colonia Los Molinos in Baja California.

30° 0'48.67"N 107°34'0.92"W
MY OLD HOUSE IN COLONIA LEBARON AT THESE GOOGLE EARTH COORDINATES

30°41'44.73"N 116° 0'5.82"W
COLONIA LOS MOLINOS BAJA CALIFORNIA

Barbareno - 11-26-2007 at 06:26 AM

David what an amazing story. You have come along way. Glad to hear that you have forgiven your mom.

I do hope you will get this story published. Bet there are people here that could and would love to advise you on that.

I for one would love to suggest your story to my online book club.

Barb

Amazing

baitcast - 11-26-2007 at 07:07 AM

OMG!! What a read,and I thought my start was shaky! Tough kid,tough guy,my congrats my man,amazing story:O

I googled that man,he was far worse than you pictured him,you were lucky you took that walk when you did.

[Edited on 11-26-2007 by baitcast]

Bob H - 11-26-2007 at 01:53 PM

What an absolutey incredible story! WOW:wow:

Bob H

gnukid - 11-26-2007 at 02:20 PM

So young and so much time ahead for adventure...

Minnow - 11-26-2007 at 02:25 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by ELINVESTI8
30°41'44.73"N 116° 0'5.82"W
COLONIA LOS MOLINOS BAJA CALIFORNIA


That is right on the beach near Vincente Guerrero.

You sure that doesn't have something to do with why you ended up that far south?

Osprey - 11-26-2007 at 02:44 PM

Some mighty cruel circumstances all got together to start you off in some of the most unforgiving country in the west. Then, left to wander about in dangerous territory helped you grow up fast, become a survivor. Can’t imagine such a lifestyle – while I was left to roam the swamps of Florida and the barren deserts of the Great Basin I was cared for, spoiled and pampered.

I’m strictly a fiction writer and wouldn’t know where to start to write an autobiography; yours will be exciting, unique. I encourage you to put all this great stuff down in Word for Windows, save it all in a safe place and after you have the draft you want your kids to read someday, spend some time fleshing the work out for publication.

If you can remember your life in chronological detail as your draft reveals, perhaps you can bring back even more details; the nitty gritty landscape of the where and when, the smells and smiles – all the furniture. I can do that, go back there, drum it back up just from the awful power of self suggestion.

Most of us were comfy each night in our downy beds when you were sleeping under bridges – we had hot chocolate while you grew used to the taste of grit if and when you could find a meal, a patron, a friend.

Your perseverance is an inspiration we hope you’ll share more of with us. I’m not a professional but I would be glad to edit anything you’d like to send me.

DianaT - 11-26-2007 at 03:00 PM

It really is a story that needs to be told. It not only is one of survival, but a great example of that often little understood quality of resiliency.

As you write, more details will probably come back to you. Your story could perhaps help a lot of people who come from difficult circumstances.

We look forward to reading more.

Diane and John

bajafun - 11-26-2007 at 03:10 PM

The more people tell their stories of their life, the more interesting life is. Thanks for sharing. MY life is vanilla next to yours.

ELINVESTIG8R - 11-26-2007 at 04:43 PM

Thanks everyone for your comments. They say what does not kill you makes you stronger. I guess that is true.

I just want everyone who reads my story that I was not involved in any of the bad stuff Ervil LeBaron had his followers doing on his behalf. I was long gone before that happened. When I started hearing about the bad stuff I was already a CID Agent in the Marines. Just thought you should know that.

I will sneak this back in today 12/29/2009

DAVID’S LIFE STORY FROM CHIHUAHUA TO BAJA AND BEYOND

Caveat...The story you are about to read is true and I never killed anyone unless it was a justifiable homicide.

My name is David M. and I am 57. I was born on December 16, 1952 in Mesa Arizona. I am the eldest of 12 children. I am a Sagittarius and I love adventure. My adventure started when I was five years old after my parents Nephi and Anna Mae took me to live in a colony of ex-Mormons in the state of Chihuahua Mexico called Colonia LeBaron. This colony is a small place that is just south of Galeana Chihuahua Mexico and is and just north of San Buenaventura Chihuahua Mexico. This is a colony where they practice polygamy. (I do not practice it.) During my childhood I did not have time to be a kid because the elders had us all in the fields clearing it so they could plant alfalfa, tomatoes, sugar cane and corn. It was difficult time to say the least. By the time I was 9 years old I was taught how to plow the cleared fields behind a mule team and was out there plowing the rows to be planted. That is the way it was between 9 and 12 years old.

During that time my mother left my dad Nephi and married the second in charge of the church called Church of the First Born of the Fullness of Times or as call I call it “The Cult.” His name was Ervil LeBaron (Look him up on Goggle) and he had 9 or 10 wives and many children. He was an evil man with the soul of the devil. Ervil hated me with all his might because I was the eldest son of my mother and not a product of him. This is the only explanation I can come up with because before I started rebelling I was an obedient kid. Well because of his hatred for me through no fault of my own I became rebellious and refused to follow his orders and defied him at every turn. One day when I was 12 years old I flat out refused to do something he ordered me to do so he ended up beating me with his fists and kicked me with his feet to the point I lost consciousness. I remember that before losing consciousness I saw my mother standing at the front door of our house watching what was going on and she walked back into the house.

When I regained consciousness in the dirt street in front of our house I dragged my bleeding body to a hand cranked well where I drew water and washed the blood from my body. It took me a lot of years to forgive my mother for that but I have since forgiven her.
She was caught up looking at Ervil as a living God because she felt he was a Prophet and felt he could do no wrong. Even though my mother says she does not remember the incident I have still forgiven her and moved on from that. I remember while cleaning up the blood from my body I felt such a burning rage sweep through me. I had such pure hatred pulsing through my heart and soul for Ervil that I decided then and there I was going to kill him even if I had to do it with my bare hands. Ervil was a huge man compared to me but I really did not care at that point.



I remember getting a kerosene lamp (We had no electricity) and going down into the dark basement of the house. I was always scared to go down there but this day I was not scared. I rummaged though the boxes and odds and ends looking for something to use to kill him. I eventually found a rusty single shot 12 gauge shotgun and some old shotgun shells. I remember sneaking the shotgun out of the house then going far away from the house where I tested it to see if it worked. I figured out how to load it and boy did it work. I nearly broke my shoulder firing it. I then hid out where I knew Ervil would come by in his truck and waited and waited until he showed up. While I was waiting, something happened to me that to this day I cannot explain. While waiting with this rage which was building and building, I began to feel an intense heat begin to permeate my body.

It started at my feet and worked its way all the way to the top of my head. The sensation was so real I remember being confused and wondering where the heat was coming from. This heat was of such intensity I can only describe it as if one is too close to a raging bonfire and your flesh feels like it is coming off. I dropped the shotgun on the ground and as soon as I did the intense heat dissipated. I picked up the shotgun and took it to a small manmade lake located nearby and threw it in the lake. I believe there was some Devine intervention that day, which stopped me from becoming a murderer, well that is what I think anyway and I am glad I did not kill Ervil even though he was an evil, evil man. After throwing the shotgun into the lake I returned home where I took a blanket and four loaves of my mother’s homemade wheat bread and with the clothes on my back I walked to the highway and hopped a ride never to return.

From the age of 12 until I was 16 years old I roamed alone throughout Mexico working as a cowboy field hand and construction worker. I spent much of my time living under bridges, bushes the stars and in culverts along the highway. Needless to say I had many adventures. (More to plug in here) I eventually ended up in Tijuana Baja California Mexico during winter time. I only had a blanket to keep warm which did not do very well in that respect but it was better than a stick in the eye. I was freezing and hungry and sick with a nagging strong cough. I found myself on a street in Tijuana where all the prostitutes hang out. I walked up and down the street to talking to several of them individually asking them for some food. All but one yelled at me something to the effect “Lárgate Nińo malcriado” which loosely translated means “Get the “F” out of here you miscreant child.” One of the women named Maria took pity on me though and got me something to eat and took me to a pharmacy where she paid for some medicine. I remember the guy gave me a shot in my butt which seemed to eventually cure whatever I had.

She bought me a warm coat and let me live with her down at the Tijuana River where back then people lived in board and tarpaper type shacks. It was a filthy place to live but at least I had a roof over my head. I think they have all been torn down now. I lived with her for about 3 or 4 months and she treated me like her little brother. I walked the streets with her to keep my eye one her so she would not get hurt. I think I was 14 years old then. I then left and continued my way down south never to see her again. I wish I knew where she was so I could find her and thank her for helping me in my time of need. I then ended up in a small community just south of Ensenada called either Ejido or Colonia Chapultepec where Estero Beach is located. I ran into a local kid named Felipe on the beach who rented horses to the American Tourists. I hung out with him during the day and at night I lived under an overturned boat on the beach just outside Estero Beach next to a dilapidated bait shack where I later sold salted anchovies to the tourists. I remember one day while walking along the highway in Maneadero Baja California I stopped to rest in an olive grove next to a ditch. I distinctly remember asking myself if being a homeless person was all I was ever going to amount to.

It was at that point I decided I had to somehow find my way to my grandma’s house in Mesa Arizona. All I knew at that point is that I had a grandmother named Hattie in Mesa Arizona and an Uncle Melvin. I said goodbye to my friend Felipe and headed south. While walking along the highway between Maneadero and Colonia Vicente Guerrero one night I decided to sleep in a culvert under the highway. I was out in the middle of nowhere. I had been walking along the highway picking up cigarette butts people had thrown out of their cars and was smoking them. I went down into the culvert and wrapped myself in my blanket and fell asleep. The next thing I remember is hearing these God awful snarling sounds coming from the area of my feet. I woke up and realized that a large pack of coyotes were in the culvert and in the process of attacking me. They must have thought I was a dead body or something and were going to eat me. I probably smelled pretty ripe at that time. When they started biting my shoes and tearing at my blanket I rose up in such a fright I began screaming at them at the top of my lungs. I picked up anything I could lay my hands on and threw whatever I had in my hand at them.

I ran up to the highway and just kept running with a rock in my hand and looking behind me to make sure they were not coming after me. When daylight came I was going to throw the rock away but realized it was a crystal about the size of a half a pack of cigarettes or a little less. I kept that rock all these years and made a small crystal rock necklace with it which I have to this very day. I continued my journey south and ended up in Colonia Vicente Guerrero where I found a job digging for clams at the beach. It was cold work because I had to go out into the surf waist deep early in the morning and dig them out with a garden type pitch fork and put them into a gunny sack. I worked as a clam digger for a while living in a rusted out car next to the sand dunes and ate clams everyday. I then headed south again and got a ride in a pickup truck with a Mexican man who ended up dropping me off in the middle of the desert because he was turning off the main highway and going east up into the mountains. There I was, without food and water in the middle of nowhere during the middle of the day. It had been raining so I looked around in the desert for any pools of water may have collected and the only water I found was that which had collected in some cow hoof prints. Of course I drank it.





I found a rattlesnake by accident which I killed with a rock and skinned and gutted with my bare hands because I did not have a knife. I did have matches though which I used to light the cigarette butts I found discarded along the highway. I found some dry grass and started a little camp fire which I used to cook the snake over the coals. I had done that before with jack rabbits I had killed while roaming throughout Mexico. I then found a Cholla Cactus and an Ocotillo bush. I removed several sections from the cactus and Ocotillo with some rocks and sticks to form a ring on the ground so I could sleep in the middle and keep the snakes away from me. I had a restless sleep that night and the next day I was picked up by another Mexican man in a pickup truck and off I went making it to El Rosario Baja California. I remember coming down into the town from the mesa and being dropped of at Mama Espinoza’s Restaurant. There was one of those old gas pumps in front of the restaurant the type where the gasoline was hand pumped into a glass container on top of the pump. I think I was 15 years old then. Back then there were no paved roads that I recall beyond El Rosario. I remember that I was starving and that Mama Espinoza took me in and gave me food and a warm place to sleep.

She treated me as though I was one of her own children. I told her my name was David Martinez because I was an illegal alien in Mexico and did not want to get in trouble. Back then I was a kid and I think I was not expected to have a Mexican Government ID but just the same I did it to be on the safe side. I worked at the restaurant for a time then I went to work at a ranch called Rancho San Juan de Dios located in the mountains south east of El Rosario where Anita’s husband Heraclio Espinoza owned a small ranch. One of Mama Espinoza’s sons and his wife lived on the ranch at the time. Before her son was at the ranch he worked as an abalone diver and wore a hard hat type diving suit to gather abalone. While I was at the ranch an old man came who was hired to build an adobe house next to a water tank and a small stream. One of my jobs was that of helper and had to haul big adobe bricks to him. The man was an alcoholic. I don’t know how, but he managed to keep everything level and plumb. Whatever he was drinking he always put it in his coffee morning noon and night. At night after work he would drink some more and walk along the lonely dirt road in the hills of the ranch singing and yelling. There was nothing around for miles and miles but cactus, wild animals and cows.

One night the old man took off on one of his walks and I fell asleep. I was suddenly awakened and could hear him yelling very loudly from a long way away. It sounded as though he was injured or something. I went to wake up Mama Espinoza’s son at the main house and found he too was awakened by the yells of the old man. We walked for a long distance down the road in pitch black toward the yelling old man. When we found him he was lying on the ground drunk as a skunk with one of his arms over the neck of a calf and singing to it. We dragged him for what seemed like an eternity back to his bunk where he refused to go to sleep and kept arguing that he wanted to go back and sing to the calf some more. We had to hold him down until he finally passed out. The next morning he denied he did any such thing and was peeed at us for making up the story. I wonder what happened to him. After I returned to the restaurant from Rancho San Juan de Dies, one day a young American Tourist traveling alone stopped to buy gas at Mama Espinoza’s in an old World War II 4X4 ambulance wagon. It was still painted in the military green.
He told me that he was going to cross over the mountains to the other side of Baja California and head over to San Felipe Baja California. I told him I was an American and was trying to get to my grandmother’s house in Mesa Arizona. He offered to give me a ride as far as San Felipe so that day I told Mama Espinoza I had to leave. I thanked her for her kindness and left with American who gave me a ride to San Felipe. I got a job in San Felipe working as a dishwasher at a restaurant on the beach north of town. I slept in a small rat infested trailer while working there. I remember the owner had an old, old Toyota Helix pickup truck that we always had to park on a hill to start it by popping the clutch because the starter would not work. One day I got so sick that I remember dreaming that rats were eating me. The next thing I know is I am waking up in the surf and the pickup truck is parked on the beach. I guess I drove it to the beach and jumped into the surf which must have reduced my fever to some degree. I remember an American tourist couple were walking on the beach and pulled me from the surf. I guess I was out of my mind because the next thing I know I was at the local clinic where they paid for my care. I wish I knew who they were so I could thank them.

I had the Hong Cong Flu or something. One day after I felt better and working at the restaurant a shrimp boat captain came to the restaurant from his fishing boat on a smaller boat which he beached and came into the restaurant to eat. I found out he was out of Guam’s Sonora which was on the other side of Bhatia de California and one step closer in getting to Arizona. After explaining my situation and wanting to get to my grandmother’s house in Arizona I asked if he would give me passage to Guam’s which he said he would. I worked for 2 or 3 weeks on the shrimp boat. I remember that for the first couple of days I was so seasick I was in the fetal position in the living quarters. After that I was ok and got my sea legs. The captain dropped me off in Guam’s where I got work with Circus Vargas feeding the elephant and cleaning up their poop. I remember they had such large poops. While working at the circus I found out there was a warehouse near the Port of Guam’s where semi tractor trailer drivers loaded up to head to Nogales Mexico which borders with Arizona. I asked around for passage to the border until one of the drivers finally consented to give me a ride.

He gave me a pack of Raleigh cigarettes and told me to meet him at the warehouse the next morning before light. I camped out near the warehouse next to some trash cans all night long until he showed up at the warehouse then next morning. The trucker gave me a ride to Nogales Mexico. He drove me all the way to the border and pointed out a line of people walking into the United States and told me “Kid get in the line and when you reach the immigration man tell him you are an American Citizen.” I got in line and continued forward with the rest of the people. At the time I was wearing rags for clothes and had cardboard in my shoes to cover the holes in the soles of my shoes. I also spoke better Spanish than English at the time. Well when I reached the immigration guy I told him I was an American Citizen trying to reach my grandmother’s house in Mesa Arizona. For whatever reason he did not believe me, and neither did any of the other immigration guys. They ended up turning me over to the Mexican Immigration who locked me up in the Nogales Mexico Jail. God was I scared. I was in a big cell with many criminals and with only one toilet to go to the bathroom. I spent the night wide awake and never used the bathroom once.
The following day the Chief of Police had me brought to him and asked me what the hell I was doing in his jail cell. I told him about Colonia LeBaron and my homeless travels throughout Mexico and that I was a 16 year old American Citizen just trying to get to my grandmother’s house in Mesa Arizona. God did he raise the roof at the police station with the people who placed me in the jail cell. The Chief made a telephone call to someone and the next thing I know is two Americans came to interview me at the police station. I told them my story and the names of my grandma and uncle and they said they would try to find them for me. For the next 4 months or so I lived at the police station in a small room where they put a cot so I could have a place to sleep. The policemen bought me some new clothes and new shoes and some of them even took me to their house so I could take a shower. I became the official police shoeshine boy, office cleaner and interpreter until my Uncle Melvin showed up with my American Birth Certificate and took me home to my grandmother’s house in Mesa Arizona.

At the Age of 17 I joined the Marines and went to Boot Camp in San Diego California. God only knows how I passed the test to get into the Marines since I had no real formal education before the little I received when I went to my grandmother’s house. At the age of 19 I married a girl while stationed at Marine Barracks, Naval Ammunition Depot Hawthorne, Nevada. Her name is Donna. We were married for 10 years and had 3 children Katrina, David Jr. and Dana. I now have 6 grandchildren. While in the Marines I was a Military Policeman then went on to become a Criminal Investigator with the Criminal Investigation Division. I was sent to Okinawa Japan where I worked with the drug suppression team. We worked closely with the Japanese Narcotics Control Department, which is the Japanese D.E.A. because the Military personnel would trade military equipment and arms with the Japanese Mafia called the Yakuza in exchange for drugs.

One day our team consisting of Americans and our Japanese counterparts entered into an operation against the Yakuza. One of my responsibilities was to be a lookout on the outer perimeter looking for anyone sneaking up from behind us while the assault team entered the building to take down the Yakuza and any military personnel in the building.
I was located in an open raw sewage ditch we called “Benjo Ditches” which is common in Okinawa. What a stench. I had my .45 Caliber pistol locked and loaded in my right hand with several other loaded magazines at the ready. I had just looked back toward the warehouse from my rear when suddenly the hair on the back of my neck rose up. I whirled around my pistol in hand with my elbow tucked into my side and to my horror there was a Yakuza pointing a shotgun at my head from about 10 feet away. It seemed like everything slowed down at that point.

I remember realizing he was not one of the good guys because he was not wearing the yellow pieces of cloth each of the team members tied around their left and right upper arms. This all must have happened in microseconds because as soon as I turned I pulled the trigger as fast as I could and emptied my magazine into the man and he fell dead. I remember that one of the first things I thought about afterwards was that moment many years back when I was going to shoot Ervil LeBaron with the shotgun and wondered if I had shot him would I have survived this shotgun encounter. To this day I wonder if there was a connection with the two incidents. I later had to go before a Japanese Judge where I was exonerated and the incident declared self defense.

After coming home from Okinawa I divorced my first wife and three years later I married a Marine. We had a son who now works for the Riverside County Sheriff’s Department as a Corrections Deputy. My second wife the Marine and I ended up going to the first Gulf War called Operation Desert Shield and Operation Desert Storm. She was in the desert closer to the enemy in Kuwait than I was. She was near Al-Saffaniyah and I was assigned to the Port of Al-Jubayl and was the Chief of Detectives in charge of seven Criminal Investigators responsible for investigating crimes for 75,000 Marines. My wife was an Electronic Repair Technician. We rarely saw one another. Occasionally I would sneak away from the base and drive the one hundred miles at breakneck speeds in my white Crown Victoria to get there before dark. I wore one of those red and white checkered Saudi Arabian headdresses to blend in with the rest of the Saudi Arabians driving on the road. I would bring her things she could not get out in the desert and only had time to spend an hour or so with her. Before heading back I would have to fuel up at the fuel farm from big bladders of “Mo-Gas” and head back on the dirt road at night with my headlights out because they were in black out conditions.

It was a b-tch driving in the desert on the dirt road with my head poked out of the driver window trying to keep on the road and going through military check points in a civilian car hoping they would not shoot at me while trying to get back to the highway. Once on the highway though I drove the 100 miles back to Al-Jubayl at 100 miles an hour or higher in that Ford Crown Victoria. I loved that car. I went to see her only a couple of times during my 9 months in Saudi Arabia. When I returned to the states I retired after 23 years and would only drive a Ford Crown Victoria for years up until recently. Since my retirement I started another career as a Criminal Defense Investigator and I work for a county government in California. I have about eight years left before I can retire and get my second retirement. My wife continued on with her career in the Marines and also did two tours in Iraq before she retired this year after serving 30 years. We have been separated for the past 15 years but still live under the same roof. She lives in her side of the house and me in mine. Life continues on. Let’s see where my next adventure begins.

MY TRIP TO MAMA ESPINOZA’S AFTER 40 YEARS
Trip to see Mama Espinoza after 40 years – On December 15, 2007, I plugged in my Baja Expeditioner GPS Map SD card into my Garmin Nuvi 250W GPS and I left home in Lake Elsinore about 8:00 AM in my 4X4 Ford Ranger. My truck door clicker was acting up (dying battery) so I stopped at Sam’s Club in Murrieta Hot Springs where I bought gas and looked for a battery for my clicker. They did not have one so I stopped off at Best Buy and found the right batteries. Thank goodness they had them because without my clicker I could not have gotten back in to my truck. The only key I have is for the ignition which will not open the door. I programmed my Nuvi 250W GPS to take me to Intercam Casa de Cambio (No Commission) 364 E. San Ysidro Blvd. San Ysidro CA. The exchange lady was friendly and I was in and out and on my way to the border in a couple of minutes.

I arrived at the San Ysidro Border about 11:10 AM and went to the last window along a row of many to see the Mexican Immigration man. He was cheerful, friendly and very helpful. I gave him my driver’s license and my birth certificate and he handed me the visa form to fill out. I forgot my glasses in the truck and could not see the small print very well and I told him I was going for my glasses and would be right back. He said “No, no I will fill it out for you,” which he did. I walked back down to the Bancomer window paid 237 Pesos and went back to immigration where he stamped it and wished me a great trip, shook my hand and I was on my way. I am glad I can speak Spanish. I saved the border location on my GPS and away I went. My GPS Baja map has a detailed street map of Tijuana and I watched the streets fly by as I drove up the hill to get to the toll road.


The drive from the border through to Ensenada was great and I did not experience any problems. I saved the first toll road booth into my GPS for my trip back. My Baja GPS map worked great. I saved a waypoint for the left turn to take me to El Gigante Market and another waypoint to take the right turn to Highway 1 at El Gigante. I drove to Maneadero where I filled up my tank and arrived in San Quintin about 4:00 PM. I filled up at the Pemex Gas station across the street from the church and bought a calling card for 50 Pesos from one of the attendants. I have been corresponding with Shelly the wife of one of Mama Espinoza’s sons named Santiago and promised to stop by on my way down.


I called and Shelly came to get me at the gas station and took me to their home. I saved their house as a waypoint onto my GPS to find their house on the way back to say good bye when I left Mama Espinoza on the 18th. Mama’s son Santiago was not at home as he was at his (Piedra Laja) rock quarry down past El Rosario. I visited with Shelly and their 21 year old son Emmanuel who is studying in Ensenada to be a lawyer and their 16 year old son Heraclio who wants to be an Engineer. Heraclio is named after Mama Espinoza’s husband. I was invited in and had coffee with Shelly and talked about my time with Mama Espinoza 40 years ago. The time flew and before you know it the time was 5:30 PM and dark. My trusty GPS took me back to Highway 1 and I was on my way to see Mama. I arrived at Mama Espinoza’s sometime around 6:30. I drove slowly because the road is narrow and I was unfamiliar with the road.

I checked into Las Cabana Motel at Mama Espinoza’s and was given room number 1. The room was nice and had a wood stove for heat. I went to the restaurant and introduced myself to Gerardo who was at the cash register. Gerardo is Rolli’s son-in-law. Rolli and her husband Oscar now run Mama Espinoza’s restaurant and the motel. I met with Rolli and we hugged and I kissed her cheek. Rolli was very busy running the show but she would stop and sit with me from time-to-time as I ate my Bistek a la Ranchera. Boy was it good. I was starving as I had not eaten breakfast or lunch. Rolli told me she did not remember me herself because she lived in Ensenada at the time when I was there in 1967 but that Mama remembered me and was telling her stories about me. Rolli said that all of her four remaining brothers, Santiago, Sergio Eugenio and Mario all remembered me and were anxious to see me again after 40 years, but that Mario was living in Ensenada and was not going to be able to make it down to El Rosario.

Rolli told me Mama was in bed and I could see her the next day on the 16th which was my birthday. I After dinner Rolli gave me the run of the place so I was all over the outer portion of the restaurant then into the kitchen (My favorite area) poking my nose into everything introducing myself to all the workers and telling them of my time when I lived with Mama Espinoza’s 40 years ago. As I was having coffee Gerardo sat with me and I told him my life story. He was in disbelief. I laughed and said it was all true. I hung around the restaurant until closing time then bought some firewood and made a fire in the wood stove of my room and went to bed sometime around 10:00 PM.

December 16, 2007, I woke up at 5:00 AM and built a fire to warm up the room. I opened my door to look out and my first sight was that of a small bird who was resting itself on a ledge under the roof eaves in front of my door. I took a picture to remember the sight. The water for my shower was hot and plentiful and the steam from the hot water helped warm up the room too. At 6:30 AM when the restaurant opened I went for breakfast and was greeted by Gerardo. Rolli said I was family and gave me the run of the place telling me I could poke my nose into anyplace I wanted to. I spent most of my time in the kitchen talking to all the day crew of workers telling them of my experiences those 40 years ago. I walked around outside waiting for Mama to wake up taking pictures. I met their maintenance man Eduardo outside who was feeding Rolli and Oscars dog Palomo. I then saw a Crow named Emilio and took his picture. I later met with Rolli’s husband Oscar who told me most of what I saw of the restaurant and the outer buildings had to be rebuilt because of the 1992 flood/mudslide that had wiped Mama Espinoza’s off the map with the exception of the original building Heraclio had built and two Quonset huts Mama used as Bungalows for the few tourists who stopped by.

Only one bungalow remains which is the one I used to sleep in when I lived with Mama Espinoza. It is now storage for Mama’s Alberque Para Nińos. Oscar said the only thing that saved the restaurant and house where the extra thick walls Heraclio had built. Oscar said that at the time everyone laughed at him for making such thick walls but he told them when your houses fall apart mine will still be standing. Those walls were the only thing withstood the brute force of the torrent of water and the mudslides that came down the canyon from the mesa above El Rosario. Oscar said that Mama Espinoza was in her room at the time of the flood and had to get on top of a round table in her room to save herself from the 3 to 4 foot of water and mud entering the house. Mama was floating and swirling around in her room yelling for help and no one could rescue her until the water receded. Her sons had to dig the mud away from her room to get to her. The only thing that saved Mama was the thick walls and that round table. Oscar says that that very same table is now in the restaurant being used for guests. As you walk into the restaurant the round table is located straight ahead underneath the pictures of Heraclio and Mama Espinoza.

At 9:00 AM I saw Mama sitting inside of her living area taking in the sun of the day from her window and knitting slippers she sells in the restaurant. The little money she makes selling the slippers she uses to support her children’s home and to buy beans, rice and soap for the many surrounding poor people who come in from all around looking for her help. Mama never turns anyone away. When I first saw Mama sitting there knitting away tears started rolling down my cheeks. A large lump began developing in my throat. A flood of guilt came over me for having waited 40 years to thank this woman who took me in from being that homeless 15 year old boy all those years ago. I mustered the courage to knock on the door of Mama’s living quarters. The door was answered by Mama’s helper, Hortencia. Mama knew I had planned to visit her but not when and no one told Mama that I was there to see her yet. When Mama saw me she immediately yelled out “MI HIJO” (My son) “Praise the Lord” and tears of joy filled her eyes. She stretched her arms out inviting me into them. I could not hold back any longer and began to weep uncontrollably as I rushed to her outstretched arms where we held each other for a very long time weeping in each other’s arms.

No one but Hortencia was present when this happened and she too broke down in tears at seeing what had just unfolded in front of her. This was our private moment which I share with you now. I gave Mama her birthday present a cashmere shawl which she loved. She told Hortencia “Tencha come over here and feel how soft it is.” She loved it. Hortencia then made breakfast for Mama and I and we ate and talked the morning away. Mama told me that no forgiveness was needed for waiting for so long to come and see her. She said she understands that sometimes circumstances do not allow us to do what we want to do. During breakfast we laughed and cried together. She reminded me that I lived with her for one year after I showed up on her front doorsteps. Mama told me she remembers when I first arrived I was this skinny cold, hungry and a filthy dirty kid wearing rags for clothes and that my pants were so baggy that my back pockets hung down past my butt. She said her son Sany had found me outside of the restaurant and brought me inside and after taking one look at me her heart melted because I looked so bad. Mama said she first gave me something to eat then gave me some used clothes and shoes she had in reserve for the poor people she helps.

She then gave me some soap and told me to take a bath and scrub all the dirt off of me. She then burned my clothes in the fire pit where she boiled lobsters back then. Mama went on to say that I was a good kid and that she thought of me as one of her own sons. I cried again when she said that. Mama said she always wondered what had happened to me after I left. Mama said she only knew me as David Martinez because that is what I told her and that she never knew my real last name. I told her that when I was living under the small boat and selling bait to the tourists on the beach on the side of Estero Beach my friend Felipe who rented horses to the tourists suggested I use a Mexican last name so no one would know I was a Gringo. I told Mama that the reason I left Estero Beach and headed south was for two reasons. The first, was because I was tired of living as a homeless person without family and the second was because I had been threatened by two older men who approached me at the bait shack on the one side of Estero Beach and that these two Mexican men told me that they wanted me to sell Marihuana to the local tourists. When I told them that I would be too afraid to sell marihuana they told me that if I did not sell the marihuana for them they would hurt me very badly. I told her I believed them and fled in the middle of the night and headed south.

I told Mama about being attacked by coyotes when I was sleeping in a culvert under the highway between Maneadero and Colonia Vicente Guerrero. I showed her the crystal necklace I had made from the crystal rock I carried around with me from that time forward. Mama told me that I liked helping her in the kitchen washing vegetables and washing dishes but that her husband Heraclio would always yell at me to get out of the kitchen. Mama told me that Heraclio would say “Get out of the kitchen and get outside and do man’s work, the kitchen is for women’s work.” Mama said Heraclio was a Macho Mexican man and that is how he felt. During my visit with Mama, Sany’s daughter Ruth arrived with her husband Jose, their 10 year old son Henry and her mother-in-law Maria. They said they were on their way to Rancho El Metate to cut some firewood and told me that Sany was out there working on the roads with a caterpillar. Mama told me to go with them to go see Sany because he was anxious to see me again. Mama said Sany knew I was coming down to Baja to visit but did not know I was there yet. She said Sany had fond memories of me because I had lived with him and his wife Lyly at the ranch for about half the time I lived with Mama and that he considered me as his own brother.
I followed Jose in his 4X4 pickup truck in my 4X4 Ford Ranger to a tire shop in El Rosario where Jose loaded up a tired he had punctured earlier while at the ranch. Jose got in with me and we took off with Ruth and the rest of her crew in the rear. We turned off the highway before reaching El Arenoso, which used to be the old turn off. We started our trek inland toward the mountains on some bad roads. Jose said that we would be seeing Mexican Soldiers on the road where were heading and that they are now a permanent fixture on the dirt roads leading inland. Ok so I am fat dumb and happy bouncing down the rut filled dirt road when I had to stop to go to the bathroom and do a #1. My kidneys would not hold on anymore. As I was going to the bathroom Jose said look. I looked up the road that went on over to another little hill and could see some tents. I then saw the sun glinting off of binoculars. I said to Jose, “Oh great what a place to stop just before an Army checkpoint and them looking at us through binoculars. I told Jose they are probably going to think we’re either gun runners or Narcotraficantes and he said “Si eso creo.” (Yes I think so) Well I was not off the mark with that comment. When I pulled up to the check point several of the soldiers armed with their automatic rifles positioned themselves a little distance from the checkpoint and were pointing their weapons in my direction.

When I stopped I was immediately recognized as a Gringo because the soldier said “You are an American!” Of course told him I was. The soldier looked over at Jose who was sitting next to me and whom he recognized from previous trips to and from the ranch. The soldier asked Jose “What are you doing out here with him”. Jose responded “Ask him” referring to me. The soldier then started questioning me in a rude tone of voice as the other soldiers came in closer. I kind of got peeed off at his tone of voice and told him to talk to me in a civil tone of voice and that I would tell him. I said look you and I are brothers. I told him I was a retired Chief of Detectives in the Marines and showed him my military retiree ID card and my retired detective badge and identification. His demeanor immediately changed and apologized for his rudeness and asked me to please dismount the vehicle so they could search it. The officer in charge came up to me as they were searching the truck and I showed him my badge and ID and I told him I was on my way to Rancho El Metate where I had lived 40 years ago.

He seemed surprised that this Gringo had lived out here 40 years ago. I told him a little of my life story as other soldiers came up to listen and they were surprised by my story. Anyway, they were all happy and friendly after the initial encounter and when I was told I could leave I asked them if I could play my guitar and sing them a song. I was looked at like I was nuts but they asked me “Can you sing and play the guitar.” I confessed that I was not very good at either but still wanted to sing them a song. I broke out my guitar and handed a soldier a piece of paper with the lyrics of the song I wanted to sing and asked him to hold it against the bed of the truck so I could read it as I sang. I then put my left foot on the back tire of my truck and began to sing “Mexico Lindo” (Beautiful Mexico). One of the soldiers was filming me with his cell phone as I sang. As I was singing more soldiers came out of the woodwork and walked up to listen. When I finished the song all of the soldiers started applauding and shaking my hand. I heard some of them remark “That Gringo can sing in Spanish what a surprise.” As I was getting back into my vehicle to leave another military vehicle pulled up and I could hear my singing voice in the distance as the soldier was showing his friends my performance. I heard the soldier say “Can you believe this, a Gringo all the way out here who can sing in Spanish and play the guitar. Unfortunately I did not get a picture of this event.

[Edited on 12-29-2009 by ELINVESTI8]

Oso - 11-26-2007 at 10:32 PM

Just have to add my "wow" to the others and ditto on the "and I thought I had a rough start".

I too had a hated stepfather and left home early, but I was 16, not 12, I hitch-hiked from Maryland to Missoula, Montana, lied about my age, fought forest fires in Idaho, was a gandy on the Northern Pacific, rode freight trains to Yakima, slept on the ground in hobo jungles, worked in the canneries, drifted down to Venice, CA, slept on the beach, lived among the strange people before hippies were invented and made my first trip to Mexico (TJ) on the back of a stolen Harley with a Hell's Angel friend, busted in Imperial Beach on the way back.

But, chingao, that was a cotillion and stroll in the park compared to this guy's experience!

Amigo, you have definitely got some material here, and the nucleus of a good writing style. My advice is to check out your local community college for a creative writing class. You could always collaborate with a ghostwriter, but I think you can do it yourself with a little "polishing".

Best of luck and welcome to Nomads!

ELINVESTIG8R - 11-26-2007 at 11:27 PM

Thank you Oso for your nice comments. Most of us have had problems in life. Some worse than others. As someone once said. What does not kill us makes us stronger. That is a true statement. Saludos and thanks again.

Oso - 11-27-2007 at 04:32 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by ELINVESTI8
As someone once said. What does not kill us makes us stronger. That is a true statement.


If so, then the Miami Dolphins must be the strongest team in the NFL just now. (followed closely by the Carolina Panthers):rolleyes:

ELINVESTIG8R - 11-27-2007 at 04:35 PM

:lol::lol::lol:

Cypress - 11-27-2007 at 04:55 PM

Thanks for taking the time to share your story.:)

dean miller - 11-27-2007 at 06:08 PM

Read you history with interest..

I was unaware that the Church of the first born was in Chihuahua, especially in the 1950s. That sec and its leaders are with out a doubt one of the most evil organizations operating under the banner of religion.

A component of my family was also in the colonies at Colonial Dublan. Lead by colonizer Henry Bowman they had migrated in the late 1800s to pursue religious freedom and maintain the integrity of the extended family .

They considered them selves Mexican citizens and had been law abiding but probably were supporters of Diaz.

After the 1916 raid of Columbus NM, they were forcibly expelled from their homes and their land expropriated by Pancho Villa's troops. With only the clothes they had on their backs they walked several days to the rail road tracks where they camped until a train carrying the US troops of Black Jack Pershing arrived. They rode the same train back to ElPaso where they were unceremoniously deposited on US soil ...Perhaps one of the first group of displaced persons to land on US soil

General Pershing conducted the retaliatory action in Chihuahua for several years with out success until he was called to lead the AEF in WW1.

Some of my family returned to Chihuahua, most remained in US. For this I am forever grateful.

I read with interest your description of the WW11 Dodge ambulance. I had a 1942 1/2 ton grey one and my traveling companion had a brick red 1943 3/4 ton model. During the 1950s and into the 1960s we explored the unexplored in Baja down to Punta Baja below El Rosario. Always stopped for gas at Espinosas. I think the last trip was in early 1960s as I recall the road at that time was to about San Q...So doubtful if we would have met...but?


sdm

ELINVESTIG8R - 11-28-2007 at 06:48 AM

Hi Dean Miller,

I re-read my Grandmother Hattie's life story again today and found that she was born in Pacheco Chihuahua Mexico. She was a Mormon and I guess many Mormons back then lived in Mexico. She refers to 1912 as a time when there were problems in Chihuahua and the Americans had to leave by train to El Paso Texas where the government put them up in tents until she and her family could take a Wagon Train to Tucson Arizona. I guess that is the time of the Revolucion.

Who knows Dean maybe you or your friend did give me that ride to San Felipe all those years ago. My recollection is that the ambulance was painted military green but my memory could be faulty. Anyway, if you or your friend was the person who gave me that ride 40 years ago I thank you guys with all my heart.

David

fdt - 11-28-2007 at 09:40 AM

Quote:
Originally posted by Oso
Quote:
Originally posted by ELINVESTI8
As someone once said. What does not kill us makes us stronger. That is a true statement.


If so, then the Miami Dolphins must be the strongest team in the NFL just now. (followed closely by the Carolina Panthers):rolleyes:

I also think this is an amazing story, wow ELINVESTI8 I admire you.
And with the quote of What does not kill us makes us stronger I must ad that then "La Seleccion Mexicana de Futbol" should be the strongest team on the planet.

Neal Johns - 11-28-2007 at 10:20 AM

ELINVESTI8 and Dean,

I'm a little late reading this but felt that another WOW! could not hurt. Having some Mormon (regular LDS of course) friends in Colonia Juarez near Colonia Dublan, and being familiar with Mormon history in Mexico (including the LeBaron cult) really makes your writing come to life. Congratulations on making a good life for yourself (even if you did join the Marines - sez the Old Navy Chief :lol::lol::lol: ).

dean miller - 11-28-2007 at 03:24 PM

I am recalling from my dim memory of an event I was not part of, it probably was 1912, rather than later

There are two good but unfortunately rare books on the Mormon colonies in Mexico.

The first one is titled "Mormon colonies in Mexico" by Dr. Thomas Romney (that name sounds familiar) published in 1938. I owned a copy but it has been passed around the family and I have totally lost track of who might currently have it..

The other is Mormon Colonies in Mexico--1885-1980 by Clarence Turley, published in 1996. This book addresses the various Mormon settlements inclosing Pacheco and Dublan.

I have been all over Mexico in the last 60 years but never have I visited the colonies..Maybe some day??

sdm

Oso - 11-28-2007 at 04:48 PM

Jeez, I just remembered that my stepfather was a Mormon too....

Nah, I don't think there's a connection between religion and being a SOB.

Besides, he was what you call a "Jack Mormon". He drank, chewed tobacco and never went to church. In all fairness, he never imposed his religion or lack of it on me and he wasn't as pure evil as Ervil. He was just an A-hole... and an Army Officer.
But I may be getting redundant here...

ELINVESTIG8R - 11-28-2007 at 05:08 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by Pompano
I don't want to hijack David's thread...but did you ever tour around Baja or the mainland with this early Baja fellow? Just thought I would throw a memory your way...


Auxilio Auxilio me sequestraron la pagina. :lol: :lol: :lol:

ELINVESTIG8R - 11-28-2007 at 05:09 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by dean miller
I am recalling from my dim memory of an event I was not part of, it probably was 1912, rather than later

There are two good but unfortunately rare books on the Mormon colonies in Mexico.

The first one is titled "Mormon colonies in Mexico" by Dr. Thomas Romney (that name sounds familiar) published in 1938. I owned a copy but it has been passed around the family and I have totally lost track of who might currently have it..

The other is Mormon Colonies in Mexico--1885-1980 by Clarence Turley, published in 1996. This book addresses the various Mormon settlements inclosing Pacheco and Dublan.

I have been all over Mexico in the last 60 years but never have I visited the colonies..Maybe some day??

sdm


Gracias por la informacion.

ELINVESTIG8R - 11-28-2007 at 05:26 PM

My continued thanks to you who posted nice comments.

dean miller - 11-28-2007 at 07:08 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by Pompano
I don't want to hijack David's thread...but did you ever tour around Baja or the mainland with this early Baja fellow? Just thought I would throw a memory your way... [/quote

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pompano,

No hijack--

I recognize the Thing, the Cat, and the gentleman, a 4th generation Mormon who lived at Burro for about 30 years...

Yes many many memories..

Thanks for sharing,

sdm

Oso - 11-29-2007 at 08:43 AM

I don't want to hijack it any further. But, if interested in something I said earlier about strength, check off-topic for an AP article on a custody case.

BAJACAT - 11-29-2007 at 08:15 PM

Hey David Im waiting for the book..

ELINVESTIG8R - 12-14-2007 at 07:08 AM

Tomorrow December 15th I will be driving to El Rosario to see Mama Espinoza who turned 100 on October 16, 2007. This will be my first time seeing her since she took me in some 40 years ago when I was homeless and alone in Mexico. I will be spending only two days with her and her family and will be back on December 19th. I would have loved to have made it a two week vacation but alas my work says they need me for trials on some cases I worked on. Mama Espinoza knows I am coming and I hope to take lots of pictures. I will do a report on my trip and my meeting with Mama when I return. I am very emotional about seeing her and her family again. I know when I see her I am going to burst into tears. Today I am prepping my truck and photocopying my documents for the trip and rehearsing what I am going to tell the police officer who stops me:

1. No soy criminal. “I am not a criminal.”

2. No hice nada contra la ley. “I have done nothing against the law”

3. No quiero que revisas a mi o a mi(s) vehículo(s). “I do not want you to search me or my vehicle(s).”

4. Dile a su supervisor que venga aquí al la escena. “Tell your supervisor to come the scene.”

5. Vamos a ver al Juez. “Let’s go see the judge.”

6. Dame un minuto voy a llamar a la Sindicatura. “Give me a minute I am going to call the Sindicatura.”:lol:

David

Paulina - 12-14-2007 at 08:33 AM

David,

Have a wonderful trip. I hope it's all you've planned it to be.

Saludos!
P<*)))><

ELINVESTIG8R - 12-14-2007 at 11:23 AM

Thank you Paulina.

Mexitron - 12-14-2007 at 11:46 AM

Just read your story, amazing! looking forward to hearing about your meeting with Mama Espinoza. I'm very familiar with the area her ranches were in...do you recall visiting Rancho Metate, and adobe house with a large pool built next to it and water piped in from a small dam upstream?

BajaBlanca - 6-16-2012 at 08:46 PM

what an incredibly heart wenching life history. I do really hope that you put all of it into writing, in a book. guaranteed to make a superb movie and will prove your point " what doesn't kill you, makes you stonger."

Thanks for sharing.

woody with a view - 6-16-2012 at 08:57 PM

way to pull a 5 year old thread back from the abyss!

DENNIS - 6-17-2012 at 06:34 AM

Quote:
Originally posted by woody with a view
way to pull a 5 year old thread back from the abyss!


:lol: Grave digging.

Barry A. - 6-17-2012 at 08:00 AM

I was blown away the first time I read this story, and it effects me the same this time, too. You have GOT to get this story into book form, David, and don't change your style at all-----just more detail and I am sure there is more than enough material for a book!!!

I salute you, David, and Tripper too for resurecting this "story" again. I hope it is again presented to us in another 5 years, or so. :yes:

What an incredible life!!!

Barry

A BAJA NOMAD MEMBER IS TRYING VERY HARD THROUGH DISHONEST MEANS TO DEBUNK ELINVESTIG8R'S LIFE STORY! TO DATE, HE'S FAILED MISERABLY

ELINVESTIG8R - 7-5-2018 at 06:36 PM

A BAJA NOMAD MEMBER IS TRYING VERY HARD THROUGH DISHONEST MEANS TO DEBUNK ELINVESTIG8R'S LIFE STORY! TO DATE, HE'S FAILED MISERABLY.



DAVID’S LIFE STORY FROM CHIHUAHUA TO BAJA AND BEYOND


Caveat...The story you are about to read is true and I never killed anyone unless it was a justifiable homicide.

ELINVESTIG8R'S REAL LIFE STORY WITH A FEW MINOR CORRECTIONS

Originally posted on 11-26-2007 at 03:43 PM
Thanks everyone for your comments. They say what does not kill you makes you stronger. I guess that is true.

I just want everyone who reads my story that I was not involved in any of the bad stuff Ervil LeBaron had his followers doing on his behalf. I was long gone before that happened. When I started hearing about the bad stuff, I was already a CID Agent in the Marines. Just thought you should know that.
I will sneak this back in today 12/29/2009

DAVID’S LIFE STORY FROM CHIHUAHUA TO BAJA AND BEYOND
Caveat...The story you are about to read is true and I never killed anyone unless it was a justifiable homicide.
My name is David M. and I am 57. I was born on December 16, 1952 in Mesa Arizona. I am the eldest of 12 children. I am a Sagittarius and I love adventure. My adventure started when I was five years old after my parents Nephi and Anna Mae took me to live in a colony of ex-Mormons in the state of Chihuahua Mexico called Colonia LeBaron. This colony is a small place that is just south of Galeana Chihuahua Mexico and is and just north of San Buenaventura Chihuahua Mexico. This is a colony where they practice polygamy. (I do not practice it.) During my childhood, I did not have time to be a kid because the elders had us all in the fields clearing it so they could plant alfalfa, tomatoes, sugar cane and corn. It was difficult time to say the least. By the time, I was nine- years old I was taught how to plow the cleared fields behind a mule team and was out there plowing the rows to be planted. That is the way it was between 9 and 12 years old.

During that time, my mother left my dad Nephi and married the second in charge of the church called Church of the First Born of the Fullness of Times or as call I call it “The Cult.” His name was Ervil LeBaron (Look him up on Goggle) and he had 9 or 10 wives and many children. He was an evil man with the soul of the devil. Ervil hated me with all his might because I was the eldest son of my mother and not a product of him. This is the only explanation I can come up with because before I started rebelling I was an obedient kid. Well because of his hatred for me through no fault of my own, I became rebellious, refused to follow his orders, and defied him at every turn. One day when I was 12 years old, I flat out refused to do something he ordered me to do so he ended up beating me with his fists and kicked me with his feet to the point I lost consciousness. I remember that before losing consciousness, I saw my mother standing at the front door of our house watching what was going on and she walked back into the house.

When I regained consciousness in the dirt street in front of our house, I dragged my bleeding body to a hand cranked well where I drew water and washed the blood from my body. It took me many years to forgive my mother for that but I have since forgiven her. She was caught up looking at Ervil as a living God because she felt he was a Prophet and felt he could do no wrong. Even though my mother says, she does not remember the incident I have still forgiven her and moved on from that. I remember while cleaning up the blood from my body I felt such a burning rage sweep through me. I had such pure hatred pulsing through my heart and soul for Ervil that I decided immediately I was going to kill him even if I had to do it with my bare hands. Ervil was a huge man compared to me but I really did not care at that point.

I remember getting a kerosene lamp (We had no electricity) and going down into the dark basement of the house. I was always scared to go down there but this day I was not scared. I rummaged through the boxes and odds and ends looking for something to use to kill him. I eventually found a rusty single shot 12-gauge shotgun and stole some shotgun shells from Lane Stubbs’ house. I remember sneaking the shotgun out of the house then going far away from the house where I tested it to see if it worked. I figured out how to load it and boy did it work. I nearly broke my shoulder firing it. I then hid out where I knew Ervil would come by in his truck; I waited, and waited until he showed up. While I was waiting, something happened to me that to this day I could not explain. While waiting with this rage which was building and building, I began to feel an intense heat begin to permeate my body.

It started at my feet and worked its way all the way to the top of my head. The sensation was so real I remember being confused and wondering where the heat was coming from. This heat was of such intensity I can only describe it as if one is too close to a raging bonfire and your flesh feels like it is coming off. I dropped the shotgun on the ground and as soon as I did, the intense heat dissipated. I picked up the shotgun, took it to a small man-made lake located nearby, and threw it in the lake. I believe there was some divine intervention that day, which stopped me from becoming a murderer, well that is what I think anyway and I am glad I did not kill Ervil even though he was an evil, evil man. After throwing the shotgun into the lake, I returned home where I took a blanket and four loaves of my mother’s homemade wheat bread and with the clothes on my back, I walked to the highway and hopped a ride never to return.

From the age of 12 until I was 16 years old I roamed alone throughout Mexico working as a cowboy field hand and construction worker. I spent much of my time living under bridges, bushes the stars and in culverts along the highway. I had many adventures. (More to plug in here) I eventually ended up in Tijuana Baja California Mexico during wintertime. I only had a blanket to keep warm, which did not do very well in that respect, but it was better than a stick in the eye. I was freezing, hungry, and sick with a nagging strong cough. I found myself on a street in Tijuana where all the prostitutes hang out. I walked up and down the street to talking to several of them individually asking them for some food. All but one yelled at me something to the effect “Largate Niño mal criado.” which loosely translated means “Get the Fu*k out of here you miscreant child.” One of the women named Maria took pity on me though and got me something to eat and took me to a pharmacy where she paid for some medicine. I remember the person gave me a shot in my butt, which seemed to cure whatever I had.

She bought me a warm coat and let me live with her down at the Tijuana River where back then people lived in board and tar-paper type shacks. It was a filthy place to live but at least I had a roof over my head. They were torn down years later. I lived with her for about three or four months and she treated me like her little brother. I walked the streets with her to keep my eye one her so she would not get hurt. I think I was 14 years old then. I then left and continued my way down south never to see her again. I wish I knew where she was so I could find her and thank her for helping me in my time of need. I then ended up in a small community just south of Ensenada called either Ejido or Colonia Chapultepec where Estero Beach is located. I ran into a local kid named Felipe on the beach who rented horses to the American Tourists. I hung out with him during the day and at night; I lived under an overturned boat on the beach just outside Estero Beach next to a dilapidated bait shack where I later sold salted anchovies to the tourists. I remember one day while walking along the highway in Maneadero Baja California I stopped to rest in an olive grove next to a ditch. I distinctly remember asking myself if being a homeless person was all I was ever going to amount too.

It was at that point I decided I had to somehow find my way to my grandma’s house in Mesa Arizona. All I knew at that point is that I had a grandmother named Hattie in Mesa Arizona and an Uncle Melvin. I said goodbye to my friend Felipe and headed south. While walking along the highway between Maneadero and Colonia Vicente Guerrero one night I decided to sleep in a culvert under the highway. I was out in the middle of nowhere. I had been walking along the highway picking up cigarette butts people had thrown out of their cars and was smoking them. I went down into the culvert, wrapped myself in my blanket, and fell asleep. The next thing I remember is hearing these God awful snarling sounds coming from the area of my feet. I woke up and realized that a large pack of coyotes were in the culvert and in the process of attacking me. They must have thought I was a dead body or something and were going to eat me. I probably smelled ripe at that time. When they started biting my shoes and tearing at my blanket, I rose up in such a fright, I began screaming at them at the top of my lungs. I picked up anything I could lay my hands on and threw whatever I had in my hand at them.

I ran up to the highway and just kept running with a rock in my hand and looking behind me to make sure they were not coming after me. When daylight came, I was going to throw the rock away but realized it was a crystal about the size of a half a pack of cigarettes or a little less. I kept that rock all these years and made a small crystal rock necklace with it, which I have to this very day. I continued my journey south and ended up in Colonia Vicente Guerrero where I found a job digging for clams at the beach. It was cold work because I had to go out into the surf waist deep early in the morning and dig them out with a garden type pitchfork and put them into a gunnysack. I worked as a clam digger for a while living in a rusted out car next to the sand dunes and ate clams every day. I then headed south again and got a ride in a pickup truck with a Mexican man who ended up dropping me off in the middle of the desert because he was turning off the main highway and going east up into the mountains. There I was, without food and water in the middle of nowhere during the middle of the day. It had been raining so I looked around in the desert for any pools of water may have collected and the only water I found was that which had collected in some cow hoof prints. Of course, I drank it.

I found a rattlesnake by accident, which I killed with a rock, skinned, and gutted with my teeth and bare hands because I did not have a knife. I did have matches though which I used to light the cigarette butts I found discarded along the highway. I found some dry grass and started a little campfire, which I used to cook the snake over the coals. I had done that before with jackrabbits I had killed while roaming throughout Mexico. I then found a Cholla Cactus and an Ocotillo bush. I removed several sections from the cactus and Ocotillo with some rocks and sticks to form a ring on the ground so I could sleep in the middle and keep the snakes away from me. I had a restless sleep that night. The next day I hopped a ride from another Mexican man in a pickup truck and off, I went making it to El Rosario Baja California. I remember coming down into the town from the mesa and being dropped of at Mama Espinoza’s Restaurant. There was one of those old gas pumps in front of the restaurant. The type where the gasoline was hand pumped into a glass container on top of the pump. I think I was 14 or 15 years old then. Back then, there were no paved roads to El Rosario. I do not remember where the pavement began. I remember that I was starving and that Mama Espinoza took me in and gave me food and a warm place to sleep.

She treated me as though I was one of her own children. I told her my name was David Martinez because I was an illegal alien in Mexico and did not want to get in trouble. Back then, I was a kid and do not think I expected to have an Mexican Government ID but just the same, I did it to be on the safe side. I worked at the restaurant for a time then I went to work at a ranch called Rancho El Metate in the San Juan de Dios mountains south east of El Rosario where Mama Espinoza Anita’s husband Heraclio Espinoza owned a small ranch. One of Mama Espinoza’s sons Sany and his wife Lily lived on the ranch at the time. Before her son was at the ranch, he worked as an abalone diver and wore a hardhat type diving suit to gather abalone. While I was at the ranch, an old man with the nickname of Pozolon came after being hired to build an adobe house next to a water tank, fed by a ditch that transported water from the spring about 1 kilometer away. One of my jobs was that of helper and had to haul big adobe bricks to him. The man was an alcoholic. I do not know how, but he managed to keep everything level and plumb. Whatever he was drinking, he always put it in his coffee morning noon and night. At night after work he would drink some more and walk along the lonely dirt road in the hills of the ranch singing and yelling. There was nothing around for miles and miles but cactus, wild animals and cows and ghosts.

One night the old man took off on one of his walks and I fell asleep. I suddenly awoke to very loud yelling from a long distance away. It sounded as though he was injured or something. I went to wake up Mama Espinoza’s son Sany at the main house and found he too had awoke by the yells of the old man. We walked a long distance down the road in pitch black toward the yelling old man. When we found him, he was lying on the ground drunk as a skunk with one of his arms over the neck of a cow and singing to it. We dragged him for what seemed like an eternity back to his bunk where he refused to go to sleep and kept arguing that he wanted to go back and sing to the cow some more. We had to hold him down until he finally passed out. The next morning he denied he did any such thing and was angry with us for making up the story. Years later, I found out he died of a heart attack in Guerrero Negro. His last name was Seseña. After I returned to the restaurant from Rancho San Juan de Dies, one day a young American Tourist traveling alone stopped to buy gas at Mama Espinoza’s in an old World War II 4X4 ambulance wagon painted in the military green.

He told me that he was going to cross over the mountains to the other side of Baja California and head over to San Felipe Baja California. I told him I was an American and was trying to get to my grandmother’s house in Mesa Arizona. He offered to give me a ride as far as San Felipe so that day I told Mama Espinoza I had to leave. I thanked her for her kindness and left with American who gave me a ride to San Felipe. I got a job in San Felipe working as a dishwasher at a restaurant on the beach north of town. I slept in a small rat infested trailer while working there. I remember the owner had an old, old Toyota Helix pickup truck that we always had to park on a hill to start it by popping the clutch because the starter would not work. One day I got so sick that I remember dreaming that rats were eating me. The next thing I know is I am waking up in the surf and the pickup truck was on the beach. I guess I drove it to the beach and jumped into the surf, which must have reduced my fever to some degree. I remember an American tourist couple were walking on the beach and pulled me from the surf. I guess I was out of my mind because the next thing I know I was at the local clinic where they paid for my care. I wish I knew who they were so I could thank them.

I think I had the Hong Cong Flu. One day after I felt better and working at the restaurant a shrimp boat captain came to the restaurant from his fishing boat on a smaller boat, which he beached and came into the restaurant to eat. I found out he was out of Guaymas, Sonora which was on the other side of the Gulf of California and one-step closer in getting to Arizona. After explaining my situation and wanting to get to my grandmother’s house in Arizona, I asked if he would give me passage to Guaymas, which he said, he would. I worked for 2 or 3 weeks on the shrimp boat. I remember that for the first couple of days I was so seasick I was in the fetal position in the living quarters. After that, I was ok and got my sea legs. The captain dropped me off in Guaymas where I got work with Circus Vargas feeding the elephant and cleaning up their poop. I remember they had such large poops. While working at the circus I found out there was a warehouse near the Port of Guaymas where semi-tractor trailer drivers loaded up to head to Nogales Mexico which borders with Arizona. I asked around for passage to the border until one of the drivers finally consented to give me a ride.

He gave me a pack of Raleigh cigarettes and told me to meet him at the warehouse the next morning before light. I camped out near the warehouse next to some trashcans all night long until he showed up at the warehouse then next morning. The trucker gave me a ride to Nogales Mexico. He drove me to the border and pointed out a line of people walking. He told me “kid, get in that line pointing to a line of people and once you reach the immigration man tell him you are an American Citizen. I got in line and continued forward with the rest of the people. At the time, I was wearing rags for clothes and had cardboard in my shoes to cover the holes in the soles of my shoes. I also spoke better Spanish than English at the time. Well when I reached the immigration person, I told him I was an American Citizen trying to reach my grandmother’s house in Mesa Arizona. For whatever reason he did not believe me, and neither did any of the other immigration people. They ended up turning me over to the Mexican Immigration who locked me up in the Nogales Mexico Jail. God was I scared. I was in a big cell with many criminals and with only one toilet to go to the bathroom. I spent the night wide-awake and never used the bathroom once.

The following day the Chief of Police, had me brought to him and asked me “What the hell are you doing in my jail cell. I told him about Colonia LeBaron and my homeless travels throughout Mexico and that I was a 16-year old American Citizen just trying to get to my grandmother’s house in Mesa Arizona. God did he raise the roof at the police station with the people who placed me in the jail cell. The Chief made a telephone call to someone and the next thing I know is two Americans came to interview me at the police station. I told them my story and the names of my grandma and uncle and they said they would try to find them for me. For the next 4 months or so, I lived at the police station in a small room where they put a cot so I could have a place to sleep. The police officers bought me some new clothes and new shoes and some of them even took me to their house so I could take a shower. I became the official police shoeshine boy, office cleaner and interpreter until my Uncle Melvin showed up with my American Birth Certificate and took me home to my grandmother’s house in Mesa Arizona.

At the Age of 17, I joined the Marines and went to Boot Camp in San Diego California. God only knows how I passed the test to get into the Marines since I had no real formal education before the little I received when I went to my grandmother’s house. At the age of 19, I married a girl while stationed at Marine Barracks, Naval Ammunition Depot Hawthorne, Nevada. Her name is Donna. We were married for 10 years and had three children Katrina, David Jr. and Dana. I now have six grandchildren. While in the Marines I was a Military Policeman then went on to become a Criminal Investigator with the Criminal Investigation Division. I went to Okinawa Japan where I worked with the drug suppression team. We worked closely with the Japanese Narcotics Control Department who are the same as U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency because Military personnel would trade military equipment and arms with the Japanese Mafia called the Yakuza in exchange for drugs. One day our team consisting of Americans and our Japanese counterparts entered into an operation against the Yakuza. One of my responsibilities was to be a lookout on the outer perimeter looking for anyone sneaking up from behind us while the assault team entered the building to take down the Yakuza and any military personnel in the building.

I was located in an open raw sewage ditch we called “Benjo Ditch,” which is common in Okinawa. What a stench. I had my .45 Caliber pistol locked and loaded in my right hand with several other loaded magazines at the ready. I had just looked back toward the warehouse from my rear when suddenly the hair on the back of my neck rose up. I whirled around my pistol in hand with my elbow tucked into my side and to my horror, there was a Yakuza man pointing a shotgun at my head from about 10 feet away. It seemed like everything slowed down at that point.

I remember realizing he was not one of us because he was not wearing the yellow piece of cloth each of the team members tied around their left and right upper arms. This all must have happened in microseconds because as soon as I turned I pulled the trigger as fast as I could and emptied my magazine into the man and he fell dead. Later at the autopsy, I saw that his body looked like it had a zipper because I shot a straight line from his penis to his chest and head. I remember that one of the first things I thought about afterwards was that moment many years back when I was going to shoot Ervil LeBaron with the shotgun and wondered if I had shot him would I have survived this shotgun encounter. To this day, I wonder if there was a cosmic connection with the two incidents. I later had to go before a Japanese Judge and exonerated because of self-defense.

After coming home from Okinawa, I divorced my first wife and three years later, I married a Marine. We had a son who now works for the Riverside County Sheriff’s Department as a Corrections Deputy. My second wife the Marine and I ended up going to the first Gulf War called Operation Desert Shield and Operation Desert Storm. She was in the desert closer to the enemy in Kuwait than I was. She was near Al-Saffaniyah and I was at the Port of Al-Jubayl. I was the Chief of Detectives in charge of seven Criminal Investigators responsible for investigating crimes for 75,000 Marines. My wife was an Electronic Repair Technician. We rarely saw one another. Occasionally I would sneak away from the base and drive the one hundred miles at breakneck speeds in my white Crown Victoria to get there before dark. I wore one of those red and white checkered Saudi Arabian headdresses to blend in with the rest of the Saudi Arabians driving on the road. I would bring her things she could not get out in the desert and only had time to spend an hour or so with her. Before heading back, I would have to fuel up at the fuel farm from big bladders of “Mo-Gas” and head back on the dirt road at night with my headlights out because they were in black out conditions.

It was a b.itch driving in the desert on the dirt road with my head poked out of the driver window trying to keep on the road and going through military check points in a civilian car hoping they would not shoot at me while trying to get back to the highway. Once on the highway though I drove the 100 miles back to Al-Jubayl at 100 miles an hour or higher in that Ford Crown Victoria. I loved that car. I went to see her only a couple of times during my 9 months in Saudi Arabia. When I returned to the states, I retired after 23 years and would only drive a Ford Crown Victoria for years up until recently. Since my retirement, I started another career as a Criminal Defense Investigator and I work for a county government in California. I have about eight years left before I can retire and get my second retirement. My wife continued with her career in the Marines and did four tours of duty in the war zone during the gulf war. Life continues. Let us see where my next adventure begins.

MY TRIP TO MAMA ESPINOZA’S AFTER 40 YEARS
Trip to see Mama Espinoza after 40 years. On December 15, 2007, I plugged in my Baja Expeditioner GPS Map SD card into my Garmin Nuvi 250W GPS and I left home in Lake Elsinore about 8:00 AM in my 4X4 Ford Ranger. My truck door clicker was acting up (dying battery) so I stopped at Sam’s Club in Murrieta Hot Springs where I bought gas and looked for a battery for my clicker. They did not have one so I stopped off at Best Buy and found the right batteries. Thank goodness, they had them because without my clicker I could not have gotten back in to my truck. The only key I have is for the ignition, which will not open the door. I programmed my Nuvi 250W GPS to take me to Intercam Casa de Cambio (No Commission) 364 E. San Ysidro Blvd. San Ysidro CA. The exchange woman was friendly and I was in and out and on my way to the border in a couple of minutes.
I arrived at the San Ysidro Border about 11:10 AM and went to the last window along a row of many to see the Mexican Immigration man. He was cheerful, friendly and very helpful. I gave him my driver’s license and my birth certificate and he handed me the visa form to fill out. I forgot my glasses in the truck and could not see the small print very well and I told him I was going for my glasses and would be right back. He said, “No, no” I will fill it out for you, which he did. I walked back down to the Bancomer window paid 237 Pesos and went back to immigration where he stamped it and wished me a great trip, shook my hand and I was on my way. I am glad I can speak Spanish. I saved the border location on my GPS and away I went. My GPS Baja map has a detailed street map of Tijuana and I watched the streets fly by as I drove up the hill to get to the toll road.

The drive from the border through to Ensenada was great and I did not experience any problems. I saved the first toll road booth into my GPS for my trip back. My Baja GPS map worked great. I saved a waypoint for the left turn to take me to El Gigante Market and another waypoint to take the right turn to Highway 1 at El Gigante. I drove to Maneadero where I filled up my tank and arrived in San Quintin about 4:00 PM. I filled up at the Pemex Gas station across the street from the church and bought a calling card for 50 Pesos from one of the attendants. I have been corresponding with Shelly the wife of one of Mama Espinoza’s sons named Santiago and promised to stop by on my way down.

I called and Shelly came to get me at the gas station and took me to their home. I saved their house as a waypoint onto my GPS to find their house on the way back to say good-bye when I left Mama Espinoza on the 18th. Mama’s son Santiago was not at home, as he was at his (Piedra Laja) rock quarry mine southeast of El Rosario. I visited with Shelly and their 21-year-old son Emmanuel who is studying in Ensenada to be a lawyer and their 16-year-old son Heraclio who wants to be an Engineer. Heraclio is named after Mama Espinoza’s husband. I was invited in and had coffee with Shelly and talked about my time with Mama Espinoza 40 years ago. The time flew and before you know it the time was 5:30 PM and dark. My trusty GPS took me back to Highway 1 and I was on my way to see Mama. I arrived at Mama Espinoza’s sometime around 6:30. I drove slowly because the road is narrow and I was unfamiliar with the road.

I checked into Las Cabana Motel at Mama Espinoza’s and was given room number 1. The room was nice and had a wood stove for heat. I went to the restaurant and introduced myself to Gerardo who was at the cash register. Gerardo is ROLY’S son-in-law. ROLY and her husband Oscar now run Mama Espinoza’s restaurant and the motel. I met with ROLY, we hugged, and I kissed her cheek. ROLY was very busy running the show but she would stop and sit with me from time-to-time as I ate my Bistek a la Ranchera. Boy was it good. I was starving, as I had not eaten breakfast or lunch. ROLY told me she did not remember me herself because she lived in Ensenada at the time when I was there in 1967 but that Mama remembered me and was telling her stories about me. ROLY said that all of her four remaining brothers, Santiago, Sergio Eugenio and Mario all remembered me and were anxious to see me again after 40 years, but that Mario was living in Ensenada and was not going to be able to make it down to El Rosario.
ROLY told me Mama was in bed and I could see her the next day on the 16th, which was my birthday. I After dinner ROLY gave me the run of the place so I was all over the outer portion of the restaurant then into the kitchen (My favorite area) poking my nose into everything introducing myself to all the workers and telling them of my time when I lived with Mama Espinoza 40 years ago. As I was having coffee, Gerardo sat with me and I told him my life story. He was in disbelief. I laughed and said it was all true. I hung around the restaurant until closing time. I then got some mesquite firewood, made a fire in the wood stove of my room, and went to bed sometime around 10:00 PM.

December 16, 2007, I woke up at 5:00 AM and built a fire to warm up the room. I opened my door to look out and my first sight was that of a small bird who was resting itself on a ledge under the roof eaves in front of my door. I took a picture to remember the sight. The water for my shower was hot and plentiful and the steam from the hot water helped warm up the room too. At 6:30 AM when the restaurant opened, I went for breakfast, where Gerardo greeted me. ROLY said I was family and gave me the run of the place telling me I could poke my nose into any place I wanted to. I spent most of my time in the kitchen talking to all the day crew of workers telling them of my experiences those 40 years ago. I walked around outside waiting for Mama to wake up taking pictures. I met their maintenance man Eduardo outside who was feeding ROLY and Oscars dog Palomo. I then saw a Crow named Emilio and took his picture. I later met with ROLY’S husband Oscar who told me most of what I saw of the restaurant and the outer buildings were rebuilt because of the 1992 flood/mudslide that almost wiped Mama Espinoza off the map. Only one-bungalow remains, which is the one I used to sleep in when I lived with Mama Espinoza. It is now storage for Mama’s “Alberque Para Niño’s.” Oscar said the only thing that saved the some of the restaurant and house where the extra thick walls Heraclio had built. Oscar said that at the time everyone laughed at him for making such thick walls but he told them when your houses fall apart mine will still be standing. Those walls were the only thing withstood the brute force of the torrent of water and the mudslides that came down the canyon from the mesa above El Rosario. Oscar said that Mama Espinoza was in her room at the time of the flood and had to get on top of a round table in her room to save herself from the 3 to 4 foot of water and mud entering the house. Mama was floating and swirling around in her room yelling for help and no one could rescue her until the water receded. Her sons had to dig the mud away from her room to get to her. The only thing that saved Mama was the thick walls and that round table. Oscar says that that very same round table is currently in use in the restaurant and is located straight ahead underneath the pictures of Heraclio and Mama Espinoza.

At 9:00 AM, I saw Mama sitting inside of her living area taking in the sun of the day from her window and knitting slippers she sells in the restaurant. The little money she makes selling the slippers she uses to support her children’s home and to buy beans, rice and soap for the many surrounding poor people who come in from all around looking for her help. Mama never turns anyone away. When I first saw Mama sitting there, knitting away tears started rolling down my cheeks. A large lump began developing in my throat. A flood of guilt came over me for having waited 40 years to thank a woman who took me in from being that homeless 15-year-old boy all those years ago. I mustered the courage to knock on the door of Mama’s living quarters. Mama’s helper, Hortencia, answered the door. Mama knew I had planned to visit her but not when and no one told Mama that I was there to see her yet. When Mama saw me, she immediately yelled out “MI HIJO” in Spanish and “Praise the Lord” in English and tears of joy filled her eyes. She stretched her arms out inviting me into them. I could not hold back any longer and began to weep uncontrollably as I rushed to her outstretched arms where we held each other for a very long time weeping in each other’s arms.

No one but Hortencia was present when this happened and she too broke down in tears at seeing what had just unfolded in front of her. This was our private moment, which I share with you now. I gave Mama her birthday present a cashmere shawl which she loved. She told Hortencia “Tencha come over here and feel how soft it is.” She loved it. Hortencia then made breakfast for Mama and I and we ate and talked the morning away. Mama told me that no forgiveness was needed for waiting for so long to come and see her. She said she understands that sometimes circumstances do not allow us to do what we want to do. During breakfast, we laughed and cried together. She reminded me that I lived with her for one year after I showed up on her front doorsteps. Mama told me she remembers when I first arrived I was this skinny cold, hungry and a filthy dirty kid wearing rags for clothes and that my pants were so baggy that my back pockets hung down past my butt. She said her son Sany had found me outside of the restaurant and brought me inside and after taking one look at me her heart melted because I looked so bad. Mama said she first gave me something to eat then gave me some used clothes and shoes she had in reserve for the poor people she helps.

She then gave me some soap and told me to take a bath and scrub all the dirt off of me. She then burned my clothes in the fire pit where she boiled lobsters back then. Mama went on to say that, I was a good kid and that she thought of me as one of her own sons. I cried again, when she said that. Mama said she always wondered what had happened to me after I left. Mama said she only knew me as David Martinez because that is what I told her and that she never knew my real last name. I told her that when I was living under the small boat and selling bait to the tourists on the beach on the side of Estero Beach my friend Felipe who rented horses to the tourists suggested I use a Mexican last name so no one would know I was a Gringo. I told Mama that the reason I left Estero Beach and headed south was for two reasons. The first, was because I was tired of living as a homeless person without family and the second was because I had been threatened by two older men who approached me at the bait shack on the one side of Estero Beach. These two Mexican men told me that they wanted me to sell Marihuana to the local tourists. When I told them that I would be too afraid to sell marihuana they told me that if I did not sell the marihuana for them they would kill me. I told her I believed them and fled in the middle of the night and headed south.

I told Mama about the coyote attack when I was sleeping in a culvert under the highway between Maneadero and Colonia Vicente Guerrero. I showed her the crystal necklace I had made from the crystal rock I carried around with me from that time forward. Mama told me that I liked helping her in the kitchen washing vegetables and washing dishes but that her husband Heraclio would always yell at me to get out of the kitchen. Mama told me that Heraclio would say “Get out of the kitchen and get outside and do man’s work, the kitchen is for women’s work. Mama said Heraclio was a Macho Mexican man and that is how he felt. During my visit with Mama, Sany’s daughter Ruth arrived with her husband Jose, their 10-year-old son Henry and her mother-in-law Maria. They said they were on their way to Rancho El Metate to cut some firewood and told me that Sany was out there working on the roads with a caterpillar. Mama told me to go with them to go see Sany because he was anxious to see me again. Mama said Sany knew I was coming down to Baja to visit but did not know I was there yet. She said Sany had fond memories of me because I had lived with him and his wife Lyly at the ranch for about half the time I lived with Mama and that he considered me as his own brother.

I followed Jose in his 4X4 pickup truck in my 4X4 Ford Ranger to a tire shop in El Rosario where Jose loaded up a tired he had punctured earlier while at the ranch. Jose got in with me and we took off with Ruth and the rest of her crew in the rear. We turned off the highway before reaching El Arenoso, which used to be the old turn off. We started our trek inland toward the mountains on some bad roads. Jose said that we would be seeing Mexican Soldiers on the road where were heading and that they are now a permanent fixture on the dirt roads leading inland. Ok so I am fat dumb and happy bouncing down the rut filled dirt road when I had to stop to go to the bathroom and do a #1. My kidneys would not hold on anymore. As I was going to the bathroom, Jose said look. I looked up the road that went on over to another little hill and could see some tents. I then saw the sun glinting off binoculars. I said to Jose, oh great what a place to stop just before an Army checkpoint and them looking at us through binoculars. I told Jose they are probably going to think we are either gunrunners or Narcotraficantes and he said “Si eso creo.” (Yes I think so) Well I was not off the mark with that comment. When I pulled up to the checkpoint several of the soldiers armed with their automatic rifles positioned themselves a little distance from the checkpoint and were pointing their weapons in my direction.

When I stopped, I was immediately recognized as a Gringo because the soldier said, “You are an American!” Of course told him I was. The soldier looked over at Jose who was sitting next to me and whom he recognized from previous trips to and from the ranch. The soldier asked Jose “What are you doing out here with him”. Jose responded, “Ask him” referring to me. The soldier then started questioning me in a rude tone of voice as the other soldiers came in closer. I kind of got angry at his tone of voice and told him to talk to me in a civil tone of voice and that I would tell him. I said look you and I are brothers. I told him I was a retired Chief of Detectives in the Marines and showed him my military retiree ID card and my retired detective badge and identification. His demeanor immediately changed and apologized for his rudeness and asked me to please dismount the vehicle so they could search it. The officer in charge came up to me as they were searching the truck and I showed him my badge and ID and I told him I was on my way to Rancho El Metate where I had lived 40 years ago.

He seemed surprised that this Gringo had lived out here 40 years ago. I told him a little of my life story as other soldiers came up to listen and they were surprised by my story. Anyway, they were all happy and friendly after the initial encounter and when I was told I could leave I asked them if I could play my guitar and sing them a song. I was looked at as if I was nuts but they asked me “Can you sing and play the guitar.” I confessed that I was not very good at either but still wanted to sing them a song. I broke out my guitar and handed a soldier a piece of paper with the lyrics of the song I wanted to sing and asked him to hold it against the bed of the truck so I could read it as I sang. I then put my left foot on the back tire of my truck and began to sing “Mexico Lindo” (Beautiful Mexico). One of the soldiers was filming me with his cell phone as I sang. As I was singing, more soldiers came out of the woodwork and walked up to listen. When I finished the song, all of the soldiers started applauding and shaking my hand. I heard some of them remark “That Gringo can sing in Spanish what a surprise.” As I was getting back into my vehicle to leave another military vehicle pulled up and I could hear my singing voice in the distance as the soldier was showing his friends my performance. I heard the soldier say “Can you believe this, a Gringo all the way out here who can sing in Spanish and play the guitar. Unfortunately, I did not get a picture of this event.


PLEASE STOP POSTING IN ALL CAPS IT'S OBNOXIOUS

GypsyJan - 7-5-2018 at 07:43 PM

I don't read anything you write.