He was waiting near the bridge. He could go no further until he was allowed to cross. Escaping the violence in Guatemala he had finally made it to the United States border. He was a strong man with an athletic build. He had experienced terrible things. Things he didn’t want to talk about. But he was here and he envisioned the new life he could build on the other side of the fence.
It was then that a Mexican police officer waved him over. He complied, though he didn’t know what he had done. He was just standing on the sidewalk. He was told to put his hands behind his back. Handcuffs were placed on his wrists. He was arrested and he was taken away.
But, he wasn’t taken to a police station. The car pulled into a warehouse and he was made to get out. The police officer handed him over to other men and left. He did not know where he was.
He was given a phone and told to call his family. He was told to tell them to wire $3,000 dollars if they ever wanted to see him again. He called. He told them. He prayed.
A bag was thrown over his head and he was pushed into a car and taken somewhere else. There he waited. He waited for days. He did not know where he was.
He was made to get into a car and driven to a new location. Finally, the car stopped he was pushed out onto the street and the car sped away. He pulled the bag off his head and saw daylight for the first time in days. He was by the river. His family had paid the ransom.
And so he walked, following the river and soon he found the way back to the bridge and there he waited again for his chance at freedom.