The Lesson Learned

by Daniel McIntosh 

Dan McIntosh has been a private investigator for 23 years and has conducted investigations in all but one of the Mexican States, Central America, and South America. In California he has worked on several serial murder cases including the "Freeway Killer," "Nightstalker," and the "Hillside Strangler" investigations. He has lived in Ensenada, Baja California, for the last 16 years with his wife and 9 year old son.

Over the years I have conducted hundreds of investigations in Mexico. From locating people, murders, kidnappings � you name it, I�ve done it. I am contacted by private individuals who want anything from having their spouses watched while on a �fishing trip� with their friends to law firms that need information about a Mexican corporation or information regarding Mexican law.  

One of the first investigations I worked on in Mexico was in a very small ranch community in northern Guanajuato state. A law firm contacted me regarding making contact with the family of a Mexican national who died while working on a farm in North Carolina.  

Raul Santiago was operating a tractor and somehow fell off and was run over. My job was to contact the mother and father of Raul and have them sign some documents so that the law firm could represent them in a products liability lawsuit. 

The only information I had was the name of a store in San Felipe, Guanajuato, where the Santiago family would receive messages and some mail. 

I arrived in Leon, Guanajuato, late at night, then hired a taxi to San Felipe. The trip took about two hours. My taxi driver�s name was Jesus � and I felt very comfortable as he drove this two-lane highway through the northern part of the state. 

When I arrived in San Felipe, the streets were deserted. I found a police officer sleeping in his car and asked him where the best hotel in town was. He pointed to a building across the Jardin. 

The building the hotel was in had to be at least 300 years old. I got my bags, paid Jesus, and reluctantly entered. Behind the hotel desk was someone with his head on the desk sleeping like a baby, snoring so loud I could feel the vibration through my body. �Senor.� I yelled three times before he finally raised his head. This desk clerk, I�m sure, was as old as the hotel itself. I signed my name in a guest book, paid 50 pesos for the first night and the old man showed me my accommodations. The room was as small as my closet at home. There was a communal bathroom down the hall that I�m sure was enjoyed by all. I was so tired I changed for bed, and when I pulled back the blankets there appeared to be sheets on the bed that were used, I�m sure, by General Santa Ana�s men when they stopped there on the way to the Alamo 150 years ago. I decided to sleep in my clothes that night. Hey, what do you want for 50 pesos? 

The next morning I awoke early and found the nearest caf�, had some really strong coffee, and set out to find the Santiago family.  

After making some inquiries, I learned that they lived in a very small ranch area about two hours out of town.

I hired another taxi. The driver�s name was Moses. I�m batting two for two with taxi drivers. I told him the area I wanted to go and off we went. 

The smell of the high desert in the morning is intoxicating. Words cannot describe how fresh and beautiful it was. 

Moses� cab needed a lot of suspension work done and I�m sure as soon as we got back in town, he was going to have it done, or maybe next year. Everything here seemed to move in slow motion. No one was in any hurry, except me. I wanted to finish my work and get out of there before I had to spend another night in �The best hotel in San Felipe.� 

After driving for about an hour on this rutted dirt road and asking almost every person we saw where the Santiago family lived, we finally arrived. 

The Santiago home was a very small two-room adobe with no electricity or running water. There was an outhouse. Their livestock consisting of one burro, two horses and some chickens in the field. The nearest neighbor was at least three miles away. 

When Moses and I approached in the cab, several children came running out to greet us. They were not wearing shoes and their clothes were dirty � but they were smiling from ear to ear. I don�t think they ever met a gringo before because they seemed a little apprehensive. A very old lady came out of the front door and just stood there. Her face was very wrinkled and weathered. I asked her if she was the mother of Raul Santiago and she nodded. I tried to explain to her that a law firm in the United States wanted to represent her regarding her son�s death. Her puzzled look acknowledged that she didn�t know what I was talking about. I tried to explain that because her son Raul was supporting their family and that he died, there could be some compensation coming to her and her husband. The confused look was still there.  

I asked for her husband. She told me her husband had left for San Felipe on their other burro three days ago and had not returned. I thought that maybe I could explain this matter to him and get their signatures on the document and get back home. 

Moses and I returned to San Felipe with Sra. Santiago and six of her ten children all piled in the back seat of Moses� cab. On the drive to San Felipe, Sra. Santiago stated that her husband liked to drink and sometimes would sleep it off before he returned. We arrived back in town and looked everywhere for him. Finally we came upon a vacant lot with a large cactus in the middle. Next to the cactus was a burro and a person lying on the ground. One of the Santiago children went over and kicked him in the rear end. There was no movement. After several more kicks to the backside, Sr. Santiago lifted his head, gave a long stretch, and stood up.  

He was very hung over and could not stand up straight. He was leaning against his trusted burro. Sra. Santiago went over and talked to him for several minutes and I saw a puzzled look on his face as well. At this time I knew it was going to be a long day. Two of the Santiago children helped their father get on the burro, then they slapped the burro�s backside and the animal took off with Sr. Santiago holding on for dear life. One of the kids said the burro knew the way back home. 

We followed in the cab and saw Sr. Santiago wearing his large sombrero and his poncho attempting not to fall off. He would lean to one side and almost fall over, then correct himself, then lean to the other side and just as soon as he started to fall, he would get straight again. This went on for several miles. It was late afternoon now and the sun was going down fast.