Osprey
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The Rashomon Effect in Baja
The Rashomon Effect in Baja
Frank Sala in his small house on the beach near San Quintin was on the computer with nothing in mind when he ran across a recent crime incident near
San Quintin so naturally he got a cold Pacifico and settled back to read it. It entailed the death of a gringo traveler on the highway about 80 miles
south.
August 8,
Santa Ines, BCS
San Diego Union Tribune
Greg Howard
“Bloody drug bust on Mexican Highway One in Baja California. Suspected drug trafficker, Carver Foight, age 49 of Indio, California was shot and killed
by Mexican Army troops at an inspection station south of San Quintin. Two soldiers were wounded while Cabo Enrique Kruse was shot and killed by
Foight. Police are holding a large quantity of marijuana and an unregistered handgun found in Foight’s vehicle. At this time authorities have made no
mention of cartel involvement in the incident.”
Later that same day, Bob Folger, Frank’s fishing buddy from El Pabelon dropped by.
“Hey Bob, did you hear about the shooting south of here the other day, the one on highway?”
“Yeah, helluva thing. It’s in the papers now along the border. I read it in La Informa online, this morning. Some real badass boys from Indio. Our
cleaning gal, Delia, says she heard it started when a dog in the car almost killed one of the soldiers.”
When Bob left, Frank pulled up El Universal, a TJ newspaper, tried his best to make English of his poor Spanish.
“Police say Mexican Army personal told them they were attacked by two armed drug traffickers at a check station south of San Quintin on April 5th. One
soldier was killed and three were badly wounded. One of the gunmen died in the battle. Drugs and guns were found and confiscated. An investigation by
the local Sindicature and military adjutants is underway.”
While the paper news story was eclipsed by the discovery of two decapitated bodies of policemen in Tijuana the phones and internet were abuzz with
people wanting information from anybody who would talk to them about Carver Foight and Clarence Stober, about where the body of Carver was, if Stober
was hurt, arrested, where he was now. There were inquiries at the U.S. Consulate about the vehicle, the men and the dog. Foight’s wife Florence and
Stober’s girlfriend Carlene Jones and his ex wife Sandra Stober could not get a clear answer to any of their questions. Carlene called Alfie, Alfredo
Gomez, an Americanized Mexican who worked for Carver as a framer. He came to the house and made some calls to the police in Tijuana and San Quintin
but had a hard time explaining who he was, his interest in the matter.
While Janet Foight, Carver’s sister in Phoenix was making plans to travel to San Quintin to find the truth, the body, whatever, Harold and Julie
Williams of Running Springs, California were arguing about the incident, what happened, what they should do.
“Damn it Julie, we can’t just stay silent on this thing. They can’t touch us up here. What are afraid of. We’ve got to tell what we saw. You read the
papers. What about the dog, the other guy in the car? The whole thing is just bullchit. The soldier got bit, shot the dog and the driver slammed the
door open. We didn’t see any gun, just the soldier’s weapons. I think they just planted the dope, the gun. For all we know they killed the other guy
just to hide the crime. We have to call the paper, we have to make a statement. If we don’t, we’re complicit, the same as the bad guys in this thing.
We saw it all. We have to tell. You can cry all you want but I’m calling.”
They had been driving north from Cabo San Lucas when they saw the flags, the lights and pulled up to stop right behind a black Toyota SUV with
California plates. While Harold was putting his papers together he heard a vicious snarl from a dog.
Even though they were very close to the action, they only knew what they could see and hear for a little over one minute, not the whole story.
Carver Foight and Bud Stober, friends from Indio, California had spent the last few days of an 8 day camping/fishing trip at a small pet friendly
hotel in Los Barriles, Baja California Sur. Carver drove a black 2000 Toyota SUV with enough room for fishing gear, bedrolls, provisions for camping
and his black lab mix Harley.
Somewhere on Highway one south of San Quintin they encountered a military checkpoint. The sun was just going down in the great Pacific as they pulled
up. They were the third car in line and it took a few minutes for those ahead to be checked and/or searched. They turned on the lights as they waited,
inched forward. The two men didn’t count the soldiers at the check station. They saw more than four but less than ten.
When it was their turn the uniformed and heavily armed young soldiers gathered around the vehicle and while Carver was looking for his travel pass one
of them opened the back for inspection. Then all hell broke loose – the damage was done in under four seconds. As the soldier at the rear leaned in to
see what was in the back, Harley charged and bit down on his skinny wrist and began to try to rip the soldier’s arm off. The soldier fired his weapon
and three bullets killed the dog instantly. Carver yelled “Harley, Harley” as he pushed the driver’s door open with such force that the man leaning on
it was thrown back, his finger instinctively hit the trigger and with the gun now pointed to the rear of the vehicle three bullets were fired as one.
One tore through the neck of a soldier to the rear of the vehicle and he went down like a rock.
Two of his comrades squeezed off multiple rounds which struck Carver in the hip, the lung and the head. The round to the head ricocheted off something
and struck the man who was hit by the door grazing his shoulder. Clarence Stober was ordered out of the car with his hands up, was cuffed and made to
lie down on the road in front of the vehicle.
The soldiers moved the wounded and dead out of the road and signaled all the vehicles coming and going to proceed without an inspection. They employed
their flashlights now to route all traffic around the black Toyota. The officer in charge called the base on his radio, the local police, told them to
rush an ambulance to the scene with EMTs.
The soldiers began to try to stop the bleeding wrist of the man who was bit. The shoulder wound on the other man was superficial and a bandage solved
the immediate need. They checked the wounded tourist who still had a pulse. The man hit in the neck was beyond help.
Harold called the San Diego paper, got the newsroom and referred to the article.
“Mr. Williams, that thing happened down there on August 5th. Today is September 2nd. Were you unable to get to a phone? If it’s so important that you
give us your eye ball story, why did you wait this long? The Trib gets hundreds of crank calls every week. They’re usually from people with an angle.
If you’re serious about this you’re both gonna have to make an appointment, come down here and talk to Greg directly.”
Harold told him he’d think about it. His report was never made.
After six months of spending lots of money they didn’t have, making people a little crazy all around the U.S.-Mexican border Florence, Janet and
others gave up the hunt. No bodies, no black Toyota, no big black dog.
Business is business. Fun is fun. People have to get high. The unintended consequences begin with the coca farmer and spill out all over the spaces
where fun and commerce mix. A lot of it, we just don’t get to see. A lot of it would spread even more, do more damage unless somebody covers it up.
The proximate cause on this one, the thing that made the soldiers take their weapons off Safety, are people in Chicago and Los Mochis. So how much do
you want to know? And if you could learn the truth, what could you do to stop it?
[Edited on 4-12-2011 by Osprey]
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Marc
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Fascinating! I did not know of this. Thanks.
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David K
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What a wild story...
"When it was their turn the uniformed and heavily armed young soldiers gathered around the vehicle and while Carver was looking for his travel pass
one of them opened the back for inspection."
1) Travel Pass? Even if he meant tourist card, soldiers do not ask for them.
2) opened the back? Only the driver can do this with a key or lever.
also Santa Ines is not in BCS.
Thanks for sharing what was reported, none-the-less!
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Osprey
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Thanks David, I would hire you as editor but if you were one of the first 40 to read the post, you should have noticed that the story then was sweeter
since I said the farmers were growing chocolate. When I caught my word fumble I changed it to cocaine.
The soldiers didn't ask the driver for his travel papers. He was looking for them. The back hatch was broken, ajar. The editor of the piece doesn't
know where Baja Sur begins.
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David K
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Quote: | Originally posted by Osprey
Thanks David, I would hire you as editor but if you were one of the first 40 to read the post, you should have noticed that the story then was sweeter
since I said the farmers were growing chocolate. When I caught my word fumble I changed it to cocaine.
The soldiers didn't ask the driver for his travel papers. He was looking for them. The back hatch was broken, ajar. The editor of the piece doesn't
know where Baja Sur begins. |
Understood! The main point is how this story somehow escaped the U.S. media in the typical fashion of painting Mexico as deadly choice for a
vacation... Thanks!
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captkw
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HUH ? say again !! repeat your last !! do again !! bad copy !!
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