©Scott Sines
I knew about Dr. Cobos through the Mexican American Cultural Center. I was hearing talk of a rigged election before Christmas. I’d heard they would
close the border at dark. So we needed a way into Mexico
A radio guy hooked it up for us. I had real trust issues with that guy and I had reasons. The deal was that we would be smuggled across the border by a married couple who were returning from grocery shopping in Eagle Pass.
My camera would come across separately. Somebody would come by my motel room, pick up my gear and I would retrieve it from a hot dog vendor once we got across the border. What could possibly go wrong?
There was a knock on the door and it was a swarthy woman who ran the hot dog stand on the Zocalo. She allowed one camera (no motor), four rolls of film and my flash. Another knock on the door and the married couple was there with a station wagon full of groceries. We rode in the wayback with the groceries covered by a blanket. We had no trouble crossing, got dropped off at the Zocalo and retrieved my camera. Everything worked.
The swearing-in was set for midnight at City Hall. When it was time I worked my way to the front of the crowd. Heavily armed cops formed a gauntlet to escort him to his car when suddenly a guy right next to me threw a rock the size of a grapefruit and hit him.
He slumped over. His bodyguards threw him in a car and took off. I looked up and the top of City Hall was ringed with men pointing shotguns into the crowd. Things got pretty hard on us there for a while.
I took off running against the crowd to get away. They started shooting. I could hear the buckshot in the air. When I got to the back of the crowd there was a short open distance to the Zocalo. I got across the open space, jumped over a hedge and hid. Buckshot started ripping into the hedge. I got cover behind some cars and moved south away from the bridge.
When the fight started moving north toward the river I went back looking for Isabel. I couldn’t work until I knew she was safe. I found her sitting on the sidewalk in tears. That tear gas was absolutely disabling. We found our way to the bridge. It was closed but we found a safe spot.
I went back up the street toward the Zocalo and that’s when I got in trouble. I finished a roll of film, put it in my sock, reloaded my camera, and had one roll in my pocket. There was a huge traffic jam.
A hysterical couple with a car full of crying kids stalled, backing up traffic. Horns honking, swearing, threats. That car had to go. I helped the guy push it to the curb and get them across the street.
I started back up the street and a pick-up came racing down. Out of nowhere some guy jumps out and smashes the windshield with a freshly cut tree branch. I jumped into the street to make that picture and the Federales grabbed me. They were in a really foul mood. They pushed me around a little, stripped the film out of my camera, found the one in my pocket and took it as well.
I remember stopping on the bridge and looking back, just taking it all in. The city was in flames. And we were done for the night.
