AS soon as we walked out of our hotel room the following morning there was another coyote waiting for us. He could probably tell by our backpacks that we were migrants. I have to admit this guy was a slick salesman because he promised that we did not have to pay until we got over to the other side. So we talked it over as a group, and we decided to give it another shot. We made it back to the border where a chain-linked fence separated the the United States from Mexico. The coyote was an expert because he knew exactly where there was a hole in the fence. Our guide went first then the rest of us slivered quickly through the hole. We raced to a near-by-town where the coyote told us that there would be a car waiting for us behind the K-Mart. We caught our breath for a moment, and the coyote instructed us to make a run for it on his signal. When he gave the signal, the four of us zoomed through the parking lot, and we turned the corner in hopes of jumping into the get-away vehicle. Unfortunately, there was a car waiting for us, but it was an immigration truck. We didn’t even bother trying to run because we knew there was no escape so we jumped into the truck even though it was going to take us back to Mexico. To this day, I still do not think that the coyote set us up. I believe that the Border Patrol had cameras, and they were tracking our every step.
When we returned to Mexico, we decided to give it another shot. The next coyote that approached us made it seem like our journey across would be easy. Like the previous smuggler, he promised to charge us when we arrived safely in the United States. He drove us to the border and slipped us through the fence as well. However, when we were on the other side he made us take cover in a ditch behind some old abandoned houses. The coyote explained that we would wait here while he went to talk to the driver by the abandoned houses. Five minutes later, the coyote returned, but he told us that the driver needed twenty dollars for gas. Stubbornly, we gave him twenty dollars to give to the driver for gas, but suddenly he changed his mind and said that the driver would need fifty dollars. Reluctantly, we forked over the money. The coyote told us to wait quietly in the ditch, and when we heard him whistle we were supposed to take off running towards the house. After three hours of waiting, I turned to my cousin and said, “You know what, I don’t think he is coming back.” We tried to make it on our own from there, but we were quickly apprehended by the border patrol. Again, the four of us spent the night at the immigration holding center before they shipped us back to Mexico in the morning. Surely, the last coyote had cheated us, and it seemed like we would never make it to the United States. We tried seven times in one week, but each time we were caught. I began to think that maybe it would be better to return home.