No Hablo, Motherfuckers

Butler, W.
08/31/2011

The French are snobs. At least that’s what many Americans say. But if you ever get a chance to visit France, especially Paris, watch how many American tourists walk right up to random strangers and blather on in English. Or, without so much as a greeting, ask, “Hey, do you speak English?”

His Third Deportation

Butler, W.
06/14/2011

The fucker smells ripe. Like a dead dog melting in the summer heat. But he’s alive, shaking, on a hospital bed underneath two blankets. The Oaxacan wino needs a beer. Maybe two. But booze isn’t on the menu at the county lockup.

The Misdemeanor Lie

Butler, W.
06/21/2010

Traffic stop. Our detainee is an illegal alien. Mildly interesting. He’s one of several millions here in Gomorrah City. My partner, Guy McKinney, writes him for a red light violation and for driving without a license. It’s all routine until Guy blows a gasket.

The New Slavery

Butler, W.
05/21/2010

Our two detainees—Youngster and Fat Ass—were handcuffed, facing a wall. They lived in Mara ‘hood, a mile away. But they didn’t claim. They were now on enemy turf.