Stop and Frisk in Juarez

According to this story out of Juarez, the local police there have stepped up the Stop and Frisk approach to crime fighting.

Jorge iba deprisa con su mochila al hombro. Caminaba sobre la ciclovía cercana a la Prolongación Ejército Nacional cuando fue interceptado por una unidad de la Secretaría de Seguridad Pública Municipal (SSPM).

Sus manos quedaron sobre el cofre de la patrulla y sus piernas abiertas, según le ordenó uno de los oficiales.

Mientras un agente revisaba la documentación que había en la cartera de Jorge, otro elemento miraba dentro de su mochila para conocer el contenido y él respondía al interrogatorio de ambos policías preventivos.

“Voy al jale jefe, voy tarde”, decía el ciudadano para justificar su prisa por llegar a la avenida Francisco Villarreal Torres donde tomaría el camión.

Los agentes terminaron la inspección y le regresaron a Jorge sus pertenencias, luego le dieron las gracias por permitir la revisión seguido de un “buenos días”. El ciudadano colgaba su mochila al hombro y retomaba su camino.

“No, no me molestó la revisión, es su chamba, eso creo, antes ya me han llevado a Babícora (Distrito Sur) por la nada, ahora al menos me dejaron ir al trabajo, ya voy bien tarde”. Jorge seguía con prisa y no tenía tiempo para la entrevista.

El trabajador no fue arrestado porque no cometió ninguna falta administrativa, pero la revisión es preventiva, para asegurarse que “no porte armas de fuego, drogas o bebidas alcohólicas”, explican los oficiales.

Or, for those of you who are handicapped by monolingualism.

Jorge walked quickly with his backpack. He was walking on the bike path near the Prolongación Ejército Nacional [a street] when he was intercepted by a unit of the Municipal Public Security Secretariat (SSPM).

He put his hands on the trunk of the patrol car and spread his legs, as one of the officers instructed him.

While an officer checked the documents in Jorge’s billfold and another officer looked into his backpack, Jorge answered their questions.

“I’m going to work, jefe, I’m late,” said the citizen to justify his rush to get to Francisco Villarreal Torres Street where he would take the bus.

The officers completed the inspection and returned Jorge’s belongings, then thanked him for allowing the search, followed by a “good morning”. The citizen swung his backpack onto his shoulder and went on his way.

“No, the search didn’t bother me, it is their job. I’ve been to Babícora (Southern District substation) before for nothing, now at least they let me go to work, and I’m very late.” Jorge was in a hurry and had no time for an interview.

The worker was not arrested because he wasn’t guilty of any crime, but the search is preventive to ensure that people “do not carry firearms, drugs or alcohol,” explained the officer.

I used to get frisked in Juarez every once in a while as I walked through bad neighborhoods. At first it was a little unnerving, but after a while I accepted it as just part of the adventure. I never had any problem with the cops, though a couple of friends of mine had money lifted from their billfolds in separate incidents.

During the Troubles in Juarez, some educated juarenses complained that the roadblocks and random searches were violations of the Mexican constitution, but there are greater indignities foisted on the citizens of Mexico in the name of law and order. How about torture? How about disappearances?

When there are great injustices, the little injustices are tolerable.

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