If I were a Democrat who habitually resorts to violence and Judge James Boasberg decided to not interfere with Trump’s perfectly legal deportation of illegal smegma of society, I would remind him of an incident that happened in a small town in Mexico in the late 1990’s.
The name of this small town located deep in the interior of Mexico has been lost with age but the incident really happened and was read about by myself and many of my fellow immigration inspectors working on the U.S. -Mexico border at the time. It is mentioned in my book 10 Years on the Line: My War on the Border (Amazonbooks.com). At the time we all cheered and thought it was an idea that could catch on here in America after seeing so many immigration judges letting illegal alien (memo to the media: they’re NOT “IMMIGRANTS”!) criminals off with light sentences and refusing to deport them.
It happened one day that in a small, Mexican village, two strangers slowly drove into town seeming to look for something specific. Of course this was noticed by the townsfolk who kept them under observation. After driving slowly to the other end of the village and circling back, the two men suddenly leaped from their vehicle near the small schoolhouse and grabbed a young boy and a young girl carrying them off their feet and throwing them into the back seat of their vehicle. They were brother and sister walking home hand in hand. Their screams and the alarms of other children nearby aroused the townsfolk who quickly blockaded the exit from their village. They intercepted the two men in their vehicle and retrieved the terrified children from the back seat.
The townsmen immediately dragged the two men before the judge sitting in the courthouse at the center of their small plaza. The arresting townsmen had “obtained” a confession from the two men that they were being paid to kidnap a young boy and girl by a consortium who specialized in kidnapping children in rural areas for the purpose of harvesting their organs – all of their organs – for sale on the international market.
Word spread quickly and all the townspeople gathered outside the courthouse awaiting the judge’s response. Unbeknownst to them, the kidnappers’ knew the way to a Mexican judge’s heart was through his wallet and offered him a sizeable mordida. The judge immediately invalidated the “illegal” arrest by the townspeople and released the two kidnappers.
No sooner had the two kidnappers exited the courthouse confidently mocking the villagers than they were seized by the outraged citizenry. To the judge’s utter astonishment, several of the community fathers rushed inside his courtroom and bound him as well ushering him outside to join the kidnappers.
The two kidnappers and the judge were dragged to the center of the plaza and poste haste hung “by the neck until dead” from the large shade tree.
The young brother and sister were reunited with their father and mother.
A new judge was quickly elected from one of the village’s fathers.
And the small village resumed its tranquil – and safe – life.
“Governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, That whenever any Form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or abolish it….. laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. ” – Declaration of Independence. July 4, 1776.
I guess it’s a good thing I’m not a Democrat.
Post Script:
As shift leader one day, I was summoned to the pedestrian lane of the Port of Entry. A rookie immigration inspector was conducting an inspection of a late twenty’s white male, 6′ 3″, 270lb. shaggy, shoulder-length dark brown hair and beard, dressed in dirty overalls and reeking of sweat. He was claiming to be a U.S. citizen.
I took him into an adjacent cell and conducted a pat down. Only one of his overall shoulder straps was buttoned. As I patted him down looking for weapons I felt a rope tied around his waist under his clothes. I noticed three, fresh razor cuts in perfect diagonal symmetry along the inside of his right forearm. There was a fresh drop of blood at the end of each cut. He was carrying a worn Bible in which I found the Lord’s Prayer covered in red ink – and it written in reverse on a piece of notebook paper likewise covered in red ink. He refused to say a word to me. He had the eyes of Charles Manson.
I called for a third inspector to back the two of us up. Three showed up making it five.
By “coincidence” the last week of my training at the Immigration Officer Basic Academy at Glencoe, GA. I had gone to the library to look for something to read now that our strenuous academics were behind us. I saw a row of video tapes and perused those coming upon a documentary video about Satanic cults. The incident of ritual child abuse by school teachers in southern California had just been adjudicated. I thought it might be of use in the future in reference to recognizing it with my children’s teachers so I watched the video.
One of the things mentioned in the video was that ritual child killers wore ropes tied around their waists to symbolize their covenant with Satan and would not talk to anyone until the rope was loosed from contact with their body.
I was staring into the face of a ritual child killer on a mission to kidnap three American children (three razer cuts) and take them to Mexico.
True to doctrine, the man began answering my questions after I removed the rope from around his waist. He was obviously lying about his purpose for entering the United States.
He could not prove to my satisfaction he was a U.S. citizen and I had no proof of his intent on entering so I deferred his inspection and allowed him to withdraw his request for entry upon which he walked back down the pedestrian lane into Mexico.
Two hours later I was again summoned to the pedestrian lane by the same rookie inspector. As I approached, he asked “Do you recognize this man?”
It was the ritual child killer, showered, shaved and suited up like a Jehovah Witness (which he was NOT – that I know of). It took some convincing before I realized it was him.
I still sent him back to Mexico.
What I should have done was inform the Mexican police across the line about this guy. That would have been a permanent solution.
Thinking about it later, I realized the poor woman who kept coming to the Port of Entry in the late evenings every few weeks reporting her blonde, blue-eyed, daughter being kidnapped several years ago was not lying. Her prescription drug abuse was due to her being driven crazy with grief.
See also: Vigilance Committees: What the Media Won’t Tell You dated 2021/12/28 this blog site.
