Alejandro forced himself to work through the pain. The sicarios had done this to his family, and he was going to be damned if he let them get away with it.
He found the two remaining sicarios outside in an SUV. They saw him coming but thought he was the third sicario. They didn’t recognize him for what he was until he was only feet away, and by that point Alejandro fired two shots into one of them and then used the butt of the pistol to smack the other across the face before he could raise his own weapon. When he was certain the driver was unconscious, Alejandro climbed into the SUV, pushing the man aside, and sped away.
Father Crisanto pauses again. As before, his voice has been stunted and toneless, though the more he went on, the easier it was for him to tell the story.
I ask, “How do you know all of this?”
Father Crisanto offers up a somber smile.
“I grew up with Alejandro. We were best friends. We entered the army together. I served only a year before I realized it was not for me. I told God I understood what he wanted for me and left the army to become a priest. I had kept in touch with Alejandro ever since.”
Father Crisanto pauses again, and sighs.
“He showed up at my home one night. When I opened the door, I thought it was a monster. His face … it was unrecognizable. I wanted to take him to the hospital, but he refused. I didn’t understand why at first, but once he told me what had happened, I understood his plan. He asked me to help him, and I told him that I would.”
They had tied up the remaining sicario and left him for several days. Didn’t feed him, didn’t give him any water. Didn’t even let him use the bathroom. During that time, Father Crisanto treated Alejandro the best he could with the supplies he found at the store. What Alejandro needed was professional medical care, but he refused. He told Father Crisanto that as far as he was concerned the world should think he was dead. It was even broadcast on the news that Alejandro and his family had died (the sicario’s body had been burned so badly everybody believed it was Alejandro). His father made a statement. The election was days away. His lead in the polls increased even more.
When Alejandro felt well enough, he met with the remaining sicario. By then the man was barely conscious. Alejandro fed him some food, gave him some water, just enough to help him focus, and then he started the questions. At first the sicario refused to answer any of the questions, and that was when Alejandro became physical.
Father Crisanto now shakes his head and says, “I don’t like to think about what was done to that man. Especially as a servant of God, I know what Alejandro did was wrong, but … the man deserved it.”
“What did Alejandro learn?”
“He learned that certain families within each cartel had come together to discuss his father and how they were going to keep him from becoming president. He learned the names of each of the men who were at the meeting, especially the man who initially came up with the idea. After he had learned everything there was to know, Alejandro killed the sicario and buried him out in the mountains. When he returned, he told me what he planned to do. I told him that he shouldn’t. I pleaded with him because I knew it would damn his soul if he went through with what he intended. But Alejandro … he no longer cared about such things. He only had one focus, and that was to avenge his family.”
“He decided to kill the wives and children of the men who sent the sicarios after his family.”
Father Crisanto nods.
“Yes. But it wasn’t just that. Alejandro wanted to mock the cartels. He knew they would try to hide the murders from the public. They did not want the public to see them as weak. When we were younger, I had excelled at computer programming and I wanted to be a journalist. They were two things Alejandro had always encouraged me to do. As you can probably tell, I had many ambitions when I was younger. And Alejandro remembered this and told me I should start a news hub like many around the country. He said that it would be the best way to get the word out. I must admit the idea interested me. I wondered if I could make it successful. Part of me knew what I was doing—reporting on the murders Alejandro committed—was wrong, but another part knew that the cartels were even more evil. Somebody needed to stand up to them, and I thought perhaps my website could do that.”
He pauses again, staring off toward the front of the church.
“Every day I ask God for forgiveness for not stopping Alejandro. I feel the weight of all those deaths on my soul. But I kept telling myself that even if I wanted to turn in Alejandro, what would I say? Who would believe me? As far as everybody is concerned, Alejandro died that night with his wife and children.”
Father Crisanto keeps staring off toward the front of the church, and then his brow starts to furrow.
“How did you find me?”
“How do you think we found you?”
“Considering that you came to this church and not to the rectory, it must be because I used the computer here to take down the video of Gabriela.”
“The browser wasn’t secure. That’s how we were able to trace it.”
Father Crisanto takes off his glasses and closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose.
“I was too upset to think clearly at the time. I wanted to take that video down as soon as possible. It was only this morning when I
