The Portland Cement Batching Plant operated by the youngest brother-in-law of Gabriel Aguirre churned routinely on the southern outskirts of Deming, enclosed by a symmetrically implanted Cyclone Fence perimeter featuring a large, metallic swinging gate which opened every thirty minutes to accommodate a concrete-starved mixer of gigantic capacity. The winter sun did not seem to affect the four workers, two of whom were assigned to the shadows of massive twin hoppers containing the product in its initial stages of processing; they were used to the far more torrid heat of June and July. December, on the other hand, was the stuff of Christmas and merriment. And, in fact, these men's thoughts were directed toward the list of gifts they had compiled for their children and relatives.

In a diminutive control house, beneath the Gargantuan hoppers, a lone figure operated levers controlling an admixture of chemicals necessary for ensuring proper tensile strength, pouring and curing of the finished product. Because he was fully 200 feet from the mobile Trailer housing the site's office, a small intercom buzzed annoyingly inside the control hut informing him that he had a phone call in the manager's office. He positioned two institutional green levers controlling outflow in the "neutral" position, walked briskly across the site, mounted the temporary wooden steps leading to the trailer, and impatiently grabbed the receiver which had been resting on a pile of blueprints to the left of the door.

"Miguel, this is Paul. We've added a few sacks of dried meal to bolster our winter supply over a t the main storage sheds. Thought you should know." Paul's voice assumed the deep tones of an assertive business agent. "There's a hefty order over in Lordsburg which needs to be taken care of," he added, "right away, if you can."

"Paul, for God's sake, I'm up to my ‘culo' in lye and slime over here and will be tied up until at least 7:30. And it's practically Christmas Eve," he argued. But, I'll see what I can do; meet you at Chuck's Pizza in an hour." He waited for Paul's acknowledgment and hung up abruptly.

Within the Organization, news of a successful haul was spreading quickly. Like soaring eagles descending on easy prey, the main operators had sprung into action, perceiving profit in almost every local deal available. And, they hadn't wasted too much time merely thinking about out-of-state prospects. With uncommon efficiency, they had dispatched coded messages via E-mail and Overnight Express correspondence to the four points of the compass. The scope and magnitude of their efforts were truly worthy of note, it was later asserted in the trials that ensued.

The natural ease and sense of relaxation which typified these transactions were actually reassuring to all those associated with them. No arrests had been plaguing this operation, as had been the case in San Diego and Houston. The inconspicuous location, the limited manpower of Federal Agents in this area and the vast open spaces lent an air of invulnerability. Deming was enjoying paradise, profit, and pleasure.

As arrangements were made to distribute this prized commodity imported via the Apache Hills, others in Deming and Las Cruces were well aware of the extent of the successful run. In fact, behind the scenes, many of them had actually coordinated the operation's timing, protected various aspects of the foray, or had dealt directly with the Sinaloan source, the Carreon Brothers. Indeed, as a result of their efforts, over two thousand pounds of Premium Grade marijuana was poised, for only a day or two, in the Deming Cold Storage warehouse set aside periodically for just such shipments.

John Garza, D.E.A. Agent, a pivotal character in the scenario about to be played, typified the mentality of 20th Century Law Enforcement in the United States. On the one hand, he answered to U.S. Attorney Svet for the District of New Mexico; on the other, he was sleeping with the buxom niece of a peripheral, but influential, figure who was, at that point in time, managing the Blue Moon Bar in Radium Springs. Agent Garza routinely passed information through this attractive Hispanic bachelorette, Christina, to the Aguirre Organization. All things considered, Garza could be described as the quintessential Agent: self-seeking, avaricious, morally compromised, self-empowering and unarguably corrupt. He was the fall-guy ultimately "fingered" by a peripheral element of Aguirre's Operation. But, while he was unquestionably guilty, as will be amply demonstrated, he managed to avoid imprisonment simply because he knew far too much about deeper malfeasance within the D.E.A.

In point of fact, his fellow agents were providing Garza with detailed intelligence in exchange for a percentage of the illicit funds being offered by Aguirre's contacts.

Christina, a New Mexico State University student delicately straddling these Machiavellian plots and counter-plots, was soliciting upwards of $100, 000 from the Organization for providing them with schedules of the now well-publicized October Raids, and other vital intelligence, which Garza was passing to her (11) with the enthusiastic assistance of his colleagues! Christina was well associated with more people on both sides of the proverbial fence than many young ladies her age. She differed from the average college coed, financially pressured into marginal activity, in that her Organizational connections were predicated on lifetime acquaintances and were founded on close ties with circles of friends who had grown up on both sides of the Border.

Ultimately, because of high profile visibility and obvious interconnectedness with both the corrupt D.E.A. Agent (12) and the Trafficking Organization, the F.B.I.,splicing together most major pieces of this story, unearthed linkages involved in the transmittal of data from the Department of Justice to Aguirre, and arrested Christina in the vicinity of Kent Hall on the NMSU campus during the approximate time frame of the October Raids (13) themselves.

Other relationships came to light as a result of Christina's testimony, including the name of Gabriel Aguirre's girlfriend, Sonia, who, indirectly, had also been drawn into the web of communication and collusion. These events, interwoven with the rich texture of this narrative, will be touched upon far more thoroughly in the pages ahead.

Deming was soon to become the focal point of a U.S. Justice Department probe NOT because investigators had suddenly uncovered massive evidence of trafficking activity and were morally outraged. On the contrary, many of these Government Officials had been participating in the joyous boom of Luna County for some years. Actually, what had transpired was of an internal nature. Justice Department Memoranda, such as the one penned and issued in 1990, were beginning to pressure local New Mexico staff to increase revenue through seizure of cash, real property or merchandise purchased with ostensibly drug-related funds, whether or not Fourth Amendment and Eighth Amendment rights were violated. (14)

The polemics of this policy should not constitute the focus of our attention here, except to say that in a widely disseminated decision handed down in 1993, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that seizure of a trafficker's home is unconstitutional in the absence of a pre-deprivation notice and/or an opportunity for the property owner to challenge seizure in a Court of Law. (15) Even if these opportunities are afforded the property owner, it is highly dubious whether constitutionality is achieved because the Eighth Amendment bans "excessive fines," the decision affirmed.

During the F.B.I. debriefing of Sonia, Gabriel and Christina, evidence emerged which would have shocked the public. Christina had apparently been amorously involved with the Las Cruces District Attorney, gleaning intelligence and obtaining shielding for certain operations fanning out from the Mesilla Valley area. These spectacular linkages, which, for obvious partisan political reasons, were never revealed to a trusting and naive public, surfaced during dramatic interrogation sessions and were, in fact, later confirmed on the basis of substantiating details given by Sonia and Christina, among other witnesses, whose pre-trial depositions were in some cases suppressed.

U.S. Attorney Svet was also shocked to learn that rot had penetrated deep into the D.E.A., contaminating some of his most "astute and devoted" agents. Svet never publicly admitted involvement beyond Garza, whom he loathed, but, at this point, was worried about his own professional image, reputation and future within the Justice Department if he acknowledged that several critically placed Agents had been dipping into the trough of Mexican Greenbacks.

It was largely for this reason that he was motivated to exonerate many individuals who were peripherally implicated, and others who were directly involved, extracting "word of honor" type pledges from people who had been responsible, in many cases, for the loss of tens of millions of dollars flowing South, along with heavy equipment, construction materials and government property.

The dynamics of politics, interpersonal relations, inter-agency pride, territoriality, and human emotions combined to involve and compromise virtually everyone, at all levels.

However, Deming had not yet felt the impact of these dynamics. Prairie dogs scurried undisturbed; road-runners graced the break-down lanes; and the Aguirre Organization's elusive, highly-prized product continued to flow, for the time being, North and West toward major urban markets.

CHAPTER THREE

THE INCREDIBLE LATTER DAY CONNECTION

Elder Sorensen wiped the sweat from his brow as he mounted the last four steps of Deseret Industries' main complex on the outskirts of Salt Lake City. (16) After catching the evening newscast on KSL, Utah's clear-channel AM station booming out over at least two sparsely populated states, he had left his gleaming Buick Skylark parked in the 84 degree December heat, and headed for his uncle's office. Tucking his handkerchief squarely into his back pocket, glancing at his Bulova, and finally checking his notebook one more time to confirm the Suite Number, Sorensen felt ready after more than a year and a half of absence, to approach his Uncle Mel, the man who held his nephew's future in his hands.

Sorensen, a Mormon whose integrity and dedication had never been besmirched, was a Graduate Student at Brigham Young University whose GPA had recently slipped one tenth of a point below the requisite 3.00. There was a serious possibility of his Fellowship Grant being withdrawn.

Like other young Latter Day Saints he was drawn inexorably by a strong desire to engage in missionary work in the Third World. BYU's foreign language programs were among the most respected in the Far West, and a Master's in Portuguese would open doors for Elder Sorensen in Brazil's Mato Grosso, an interior state undergoing a massive developmental surge. Secretly, he had visions of bronzed maidens swooning before him as he serenaded them on his six-string guitar with melodious, if not slightly amateur renditions of Randy Travis' latest hits.

On the surface, Sorensen's uncle was a distinguished executive whose career record of more than twenty years with Deseret's Canned Foods Division was viewed with respect. Uncle Mel had participated in the early phases of organizing the Church's Emergency Food Storage Program, and his ideas for this virtually unparalleled "hoarding scheme" had met with favor in the eyes of his fellow churchmen. Four promotions later, Mel sat in a position of unchallenged authority; he had even interacted with Ezra Taft Benson on several occasions during the years immediately preceding Benson's death.

Sorenson breathed deeply as he waited in the antechamber for his uncle to receive him. Although he had known his uncle for most of his 22 years, and remembered spending many childhood Holidays with him, he was a bit nervous at this specific moment.

The impressive black door with the gold fixtures opened suddenly and there stood Uncle Mel, pocket-watch suspended from belt-loop, bow-tie slightly askew. The man smiled benignly and beckoned Elder Sorensen into his office.

Twenty minutes later, Sorensen emerged. His billfold bulged with crisp bills bearing the images of Jackson and Grant. It was apparently thought inappropriate to carry "hundreds", but his uncle had endowed him with two impressive Letters of Credit drawn, respectively, on the First National Bank of Utah in Provo and on Banco Laurenco do Brasil in Sao Paulo.

Elder Sorensen had embarked on a new lifestyle. In fact, he had promised his Uncle Mel to make delivery to Portland, Oregon of a fifty pound packet of Carreon Sinaloan Marijuana scheduled to arrive from Deming in two days via Consolidated Freightways. And his Uncle had facilitated his Missionary Work Assignment to Brazil, bypassing his Master's program for the moment, and financing the entire venture out of funds quasi-licitly derived from a combination of Church monies and Aguirre-linked revenue. (17)

As the truth regarding the scope and extent of the Organization's connections emerged, readers of New Mexico's major dailies were astounded, firstly, to learn of the highly concentrated nature of the marijuana trade in the South Central zone of the State. Secondly, it was nothing short of shocking that information reflecting, even indirectly (18) , on the integrity of a Church as solidly founded on moral principles as the Mormon Church could even be published, much less worked into the fiber of public trials as prominently publicized as the Aguirre trials.

The primary implications of this massive New Mexico - Utah connection were simply that, while paying lip-service to the importance of family values and all-out Americana, the Church of Latter Day Saints was actually protecting its own socio-economically, and "destroying" others psychotropically. The teen-agers of Salt Lake were busy with Robitussin II, perhaps, but shipments of high-grade marijuana, fanning out from the Great Salt Desert for enormous profit (19) , were supplying American and Canadian teen-agers elsewhere with a commodity considered by many to be somewhat more injurious.

As will be demonstrated in the Chapter to follow, Casas Grandes, three hours south of Palomas, was the site of a significant Mormon migratory pattern earlier this century during persecution in Utah of hundreds of Elders on charges of polygamy. These important Churchmen relocated to Casas Grandes where, upon payment of ‘tribute' to Mexican authorities, they were allowed to pursue their lifestyle and cultivate cannabis, on a massive scale, in the hills behind the town's center. (20)

It is arguably this very cannabis that is now making its way through the "Columbus Corridor" and on toward Salt Lake, where it is resold for a tremendous profit to strengthen, shield and protect the Mormon Empire, at the expense (as the astute reader cannot fail to note) of everyone else's teen-agers. (21)

The irony of this trafficking business seems to be that those locations least suspected of profiteering and distributing are actually the most thoroughly immersed.

Beyond the obvious conspiratorial and criminal aspects of Uncle Mel's (hypothetical) role, there lay less visible elements of this sequence of events. Gabriel Aguirre had owned real estate in Utah which was actually repossessed by the Government during the October time frame.

To travel between southern New Mexico and Salt Lake City, he frequently patronized Southwest Airlines, a fact that was documented by witnesses forced to testify, under threat of incarceration themselves, by Federal Authorities. Pressured with the threat of imprisonment, however, informants often hypothesize wildly incriminating individuals who may be either simply present at an unfortunate time, peripherally involved or completely innocent. It has been asserted that many defendants in the Aguirre trials fell into this category, while the true masterminds and plotters were winging their way to freedom, beach bungalows and tropical leisure in the Caribbean, Latin America or the South Pacific.

Footnotes

Continuation