The Lost

[Author's note: The story below contains themes of violence, substance abuse, and curse words]

Juaquin entered the room and meandered to the table, sitting his heavy frame on an old metal folding chair. He was an aging man and a bit overweight whose bushy mustache was the only indication of his officious post. Across from him sat a gangly man handcuffed to the table who watched him blankly, unsure what to say. Juaquin took out his phone, set it on the table, and pushed a button on an app to record the conversation.

Juaquin said: "Surprised to find that I've been running things around here, Jose?"

Jose didn't blink but paused before saying "No, I've known this whole time. I've defended several of your men at court over the years, so I knew things that I did not want to know of."

Juaquin turned his head towards the ground and said "It's a shame because for a time I thought I had everyone fooled. Turns out it was you making a fool of me. Working for both us and El Químico."

"A fool? No, I and other lawyers around here just worked for whoever paid and kept our mouths shut. Defending El Quimico's men was just business."

"Then why didn't you tell us which ones were working for El Quimico? You told my guys all about who was working for Cortez, client privilege be damned."

Cortez was this city's former mayor who had been found to have been using the police to collect arbitrary heavy fines some years back. He was dead now and the police department was defunct except for some unpaid volunteer first responders, and the city never even bothered to hold another election. Now there was a vigilante group called Los Perdidos that filled those roles, more or less.

"I told Los Perdidos everything I knew about where the drugs were going."

"You destroyed evidence that El Quimico ordered Hernandez killed."

Jose stopped. "I did." They stared at each other for a moment. "Hernandez was killed because he hurt Ms. Perez."

"I knew about that. Ms. Perez was one of El Quimico's mules."

Jose showed slight confusion for the first time in this conversation: "I don't know where you got that. Ms. Perez was using I don't know if she was dealing."

"Why'd they tell you they killed him?" Juaquin was clearly very incredulous at Jose's story.

"Hernandez was one of El Quimico's dealers."

Juaquin raised an eyebrow "Was he? How you know that."

"He told me when I defended his brother on drug charges. Then later El Quimico's hitman said they found out he had hurt a woman."

"Whose woman?"

"I got the impression that part didn't matter. Hernandez was found hanging upside down decapitated because he hurt a woman."

They just stared at each other.

"Yeah," Jose said, "I never expected you to believe me."

"I'm not sure if I do," Juaquin replied and looked down at the table. "Recently, things have gotten crazy around here. Turns out I trusted a lot of people that were doing more than just hiding things from me."

Jose reflected on the paradox of the situation, where he was under arrest but his accuser seemed to be the one experiencing shame and embarrassment.

Joaquin pushed himself up from the table and pondered, pacing from one end of the room to the other, then leaned his back on the door holding it closed. "There is just one more thing," he said and looked at Jose intently. "Who is El Quimico?"

A pause. "You don't believe me when I say I never knew?"

"Not anymore. It seems your clients trusted you to keep your mouth shut."

"Oh, come on. He's definitely not the worst guy around here."

"He's the biggest drug trafficker this side of the mountains."

"And you're impersonating a police officer. I know because I'm the one that forges the paperwork."

"Someone's got to keep this town in one piece."

"And that entails living in Cortez's house? You always seemed to know he wasn't coming back when he disappeared."

Juaquin rubbed his head as he looked at the ground. "That pendejo had a lot of enemies."

Jose stopped as he had made his point. "So do I," he said. "So does everyone else in this hellhole. We're all just fools trying to outsmart each other like a game."

Juaquin said; "There was a time when I thought I could be the big boss and fix everything in this town, but it was all just a new coat of paint on the same old shit."

"What are you going to do with me?" Jose asked in a very business-like fashion.

"I don't know. Business around here says you're the man who knows too much, you're a liability, you're not loyal, we can't have you around. But I don't know if I even want to do business anymore."

"I'll tell you what," Jose said, "I owe my wife an apology. She went to America and took the kids with her. I know a pollero that can get me across the border."

Juaquin took the handcuff key out of his pocket, set it on the table, picked up his phone, and left without a word.

A month later, Juaquin joined his wife in attending church for the first time in many years. He would see Ms. Perez across the way and great her as they passed, then one Sunday he finally worked up the courage to walk alongside her on the way out and asked if they could talk about what happened. They both walked out the door and she was evidently very nervous about these questions as they stood outside in the sun. Juaquin said that Jose had said some "very interesting things" about her case and now no one could find Jose.

Just at that very moment, a boy in a hooded coat much too warm for the weather approached and his face revealed only a Covid mask and eyes full of fear. He drew a snub-nosed revolver from his pocket and deliberately fired five shots into Juaquin's torso one after the other while his wife and Ms. Perez simply screamed in horror. The boy then turned in a blind run, dropping his gun as he ran into a street sign.

Juaquin lay there coughing and sucking in air and blood through holes in his chest. People were calling the hospital, but Juaquin motioned for Ms. Perez to come over and join his wife beside him. He pulled out his phone for them to take and said; "It's all on here... Someone has to remember."

Juaquin was declared dead when the paramedics arrived.