Robi's Demanda
2-23-'06

Last year...during the early part of the summer of '05 (us back in the woods a couple of months already) Chayo tells me by phone that Immigrations has shown up at San Cosme, asking all kinds of questions in regards to me: Ya know, like how did I deport myself here in the local area - was I a good er bad gringo?

Them having done this numerous times already (they've a file folder 4" thick about me in that office packed with glowing community profiles), I wasn't worried. Chayo seemed concerned, though, him stating that this was something that was "Robi" generated.

Ha! Considering the way I'd been poking that hornet's nest while still in the area, we'd been expecting an attack for months before we'd left. Why did he wait until after we'd been long gone ta go on the offensive? Mexico doesn't move that slowly for someone that was reputed so ultra rich and well connected...as some were claimin' him to be here. To say that I put this chat with Chayo out of mind is a bit of an understatement.

Because Chayo and us are shell business partners, we have occasion to check bases with one another on a somewhat regular basis. Through the summer and most of the fall our conversations never once touched again on the above subject.

Chayo acts as an intermediary between Immigrations in Loreto and us. We've got things with our FM3 documents that we've been trying to get changed, deleted or amended for several years: Like our Mexican business affiliations, Marcia's changed married name, the dates that our papers need to be renewed (ours come due in October when we're never here, this causing us to pay a substantial fine when we do get here), etc.

In his capacity as intermediary he visited the Loreto Immigration office in late October, and there, because of him bein' sorta buddy buddy with the young delagado, was treated to a look at what Robi was trying to throw at us; and by "us" I mean Chayo and me. He tells me that what he's been shown is like really "top secret" stuff. He's allowed to read like two er three pages, which really inflamed him, because he's mentioned repeatedly and he recognizes what he's takin' in as nothing but a pack of Robi's lies. I'm not saying who in that office made an offer to make this whole long demanda (something like 23 pages) available to us, to help us facilitate a good defense, but the offer was made, and essentially accepted.

About this same time Robi makes it a point, bumping into Chayo at San Cosme, something very easy for him ta do, to inform him that, boy oh boy, was he ever gonna fix my clock, should I be dumb enough ta show my presence back in this greater area again. (He'd done the same thing before our start of last season here too.) I'm told by my partner that we don't have ta worry about Immigrations. He felt them in our corner. After all, everyone's gotta worry about their regular bread and butter, don't they?

So we're aware of this damanda, and because of this I have occasion to talk to our rancho partner, the dentist Dr. Ernesto Gonzalez, about defense strategy. I was pretty certain that Robi, well connected like he was reputed ta be, musta filed this damanda in LaPaz. After all, if ya got big friends there, that's where they're best employed, don't ya think?

But, no. Our lawyers in LaPaz could find no record of anything like that initiated from there. Ernesto tells me too that Chayo still hasn't shown yet with copy of this thing, that our lawyers are waiting for him to fax. I didn't know what was goin' on with this 'cause when I'd last spoken to Chayo I gotten the impression that he held such in hand. Anyway, he understood that this info. was to go to LaPaz lawyers, through Ernesto.

And then in late November, sometime after Robi's road building venture was thwarted, I'm getting' reports that Robi is makin' all sorts of kissy pretties to the Presidente De Municipal de Loreto, showering the folks in Agua Verde with all sorts of crumbs, inviting the press to each offering (in Mexico if you want publicity you have to pay the reporter and the newspapers to get it). The reports telling of the generosities of this entrepreneur, "the great Robi," him dedicating somethin' about the magnitude of a cement block shit house; all of this just outta the goodness of his heart. And all the time him filling the ear of anyone of importance who'll listen about this bad gringo who's writing these lies about him and what he's up to, and this is driving away potential investors.

This driving away investors things, we were already aware of, us having had email contact with some who had been, or had almost been hooked. What he was failing to say was that after reading information on this web page, and after checking around just a little bit...well, you get the point. Bye. Bye. (When a writer knows for sure that he's hittin' his target, it's so satisfying.)

Immigrations was high on our agenda when we came rolling inta Loreto on trip down here. If we were going to get flack, this was the most likely spot fer same. Before I even get to the door I'm engaged in friendly confab with one of the internal employees.

"Hey! First day back? Ya! Good ta see ya man," one of this type affairs. Zero apprehension or animosity, that was my read. And inside, too, I'm greeted politely and by name by the young delagado; and very quickly we set up an appointment for the next morning at 11 a.m. This set us heading north of Loreto in search of a camp for the night, which, in about 10 ks travel was easy to find. Good. Great. We're settled and enjoying the break. And Immigrations seems docile as hell.

Well we're there as scheduled but of course things don't go off just exactly like that but eventually we are setting down with the young delagado, us discussing changes we've been trying fer years to accomplish, and it looks like with Chayo's advance work, things are gonna go down real smooth and easy, which they do, mostly. During this process this gentleman taps and flips the edges of numerous pages, him questioning me as to my awareness to this particular problem - Robi's demanda. Yes, I was aware, I assured him. I told him, too, that I was pretty much ready to defend myself.

All these changes don't get made and documents don't get issued that day, however. Details. A couple a trips more ta make copies of things. Manana. But we begged off on the tomorrow thing. We wanted to get to the rancho, get settled in. Leavin' there with a, "see ya later," we're outta town.

About five days rush past, us nearly adjusted to life here in this drought ravaged desert (Damn. What a difference between last year and this), and I find myself compelled to go to Cd. Constitucion. Shell business, mainly. Had problems that I simply had to attend ta. After a leisurely siesta-time meal at Ernesto's woman Gabriela's casa, me just coming out and onto the street, I spots Chayo's bulky form headed towards me. Good. I'd been planning to meet up with him that afternoon.

He's all serious and with urgent news. The delagado of Immigrations has just been visited again by Robi, who's just read the last four stories that had been posted on this website just before we'd crossed the border. According to what Chayo had gotten from Immigrations, Robi was hoppin' mad and he'd gone again to the Presidente De Municipal to also register his strong complaints. (I want you to be aware that this is third hand information.)

Chayo tells me that the delagado told him that it was very dangerous for me to be walking around without my papers, which Immigrations had, me having nothing to prove it. Right then, that day, he'd recommended that I show at Immigrations to get them.

"Right now? Today?" I question. And Chayo says, "Si," that's what the delagado recommended, especially since Robi had become so activated.

Shit!

I didn't want to make the long drive between there and Loreto. Damn. I hadn't even finished what I come ta town there ta do. But....

I flew up the Baja road, mostly at unsafe speeds, to arrive at Immigrations locked door at 5 P.M., almost sharp. That delagado had told me that his hours were from 9 A.M. to 3 P.M. and then again from 5 P.M. to 8 P.M. He claims his workload necessitates such a heavy schedule. It's slightly after five and the joints closed and I'm startin' ta get this feeling that I've made this breakneck run fer nothin', but just then here this young guy comes pullin' up.

We exchange greetings as he puts the key to the door and I follow him in and then right into his office, me explaining urgent message from Chayo in the process.

"What?" He comes back. "No no no," he continues, "I need you and your wife here tomorrow morning, but I'm just now starting to work on your documents and they won't be ready until then."

Whew!

At a lot slower pace I retraced my path back to the Agua Verde road, then make my way to San Cosme, low-tide-only pass that just barely let me by, the rancho's chained gate and then camp here for a not too late, good stiff martini.

Cutting events to the bone, we make it back to Loreto that next A.M., and, after a while, we do actually get our new FM3 with all the changes made, a minor miracle...from our perspectives. And during this process I was asked to type up a response to Robi's demanda; which, with the help of the young and jolly fella who's nimble fingers worked the outer-office computer, I pretty quickly satisfied that requirement: I simply stated that I'd been writing about the land problems along the Agua Verde road for many years already, to the best of my knowledge my information is truthful and correct. And that I wanted to warn potential investors of the hassles they might later face.

Bing. Bang. Crash. That was done and by pressing a bottom this response was flashed off to LaPaz, this apparently makin' everyone at Immigrations happy.

This demanda wasn't an Immigrations issue, but rather of the Ministeria Publico: sorta a police administrative office attached to the courts. I've been there before, due to phony charges that Gutierrez and Trojillo had on separate occasions hurtled against me; this all relating to the bad gringo with the chained gate episodes that were posed several years back.

With me represented by my attorney Antonio Yee Cummingham I'd found their bark to be much worse that their bite. They at least listen and try to ascertain what's really goin' on. Both times I'd had to write up a statement, just about what I'd recently done at Immigrations. And both times that was the end of the issue.

One of the problems that the opposing forces now face here is that they've tried attacking me through all the agencies applicable. Because these attacks were baseless nonsense to begin with, they didn't accomplish blasting me outta of the area, hell - Mexico! And now many in those offices know the score. Still, at any time, I'd been thinking an arm of the law could show up and serve me with like a subpoena.

Well, a representative of the law does show up.

Chayo.

As subdelagado to San Cosme, he is the local law right here. He comes through front gate and labors his way towards me, some long papers stickin' way outta his top shirt pocket.

"What's up?" I say as we close, me already thinkin' what irony it would be if he was there to serve me papers.

"Citarios," he states as he pulls papers from his pocket and hands me one. And then right away he says there's one fer him, too! He went forward to fill in much detail:

Robi had arrived back in the area about a week after he suffered that big ejido defeat. Almost immediately there after he went off to Loreto to the office of the Ministeria Publico. He left from there with some official of same...drove back down here with said official, who attempted to serve papers at Chayo's casa, him not being there and his wife Maria refusing to sign for or accept these document, which she wasn't legally bound ta do. Having essentially failed in the enterprise, Robi had to then bring this person back to Loreto.

Chayo had been away on shell business missions.

These citations said we were to be in the office of the Ministero Publico at 9 A.M. on Wed., the first of March. Right then it was Tuesday, the 28 of Feb. In no way could we cross low-tide-pass until afternoon of next day. Unless we left right then, which, it approachin' martini time, we were in no mind to do.

"What should we do?" I ask Chayo.

"Ignore it," he shrugs. We went into discussion as ta how a service has ta be made ta be legal, something I've dealt with before. According to Sr. Antonio Yee Cunningham, our Loreto lawyer, it's got to be direct and first hand between the one being served and an official from the office that's trying to serve you.

O.K. We considered ourselves not officially served. We'd wait and see what unfolded next.

Email: david@dondavidonbaja.com