Tierra Amarilla Shootout
© 1967 All Rights Reserved.
NOTE TO THE READER: There were many people involved in the incidents at Tierra Amarilla in the summer of 1967. The effort was made to record each type of incident and then one of each type is included in this collection of case studies. It would have been superfluous to include case studies that were similar, as for example two men who were allegedly fired from their jobs because of the incidents at Canjilón. But the reader should not get the impression that the people mentioned in this work were the only ones affected. An exhaustive study would bring out many more names of people who were allegedly held, fired, detained, jailed, accused, mistreated, etc.
The author (Rubén Sálaz M.) was not an eyewitness to any of the events or incidents described herein. A conscious effort was made to relate the story as the interviewees said they experienced it. All interviews were recorded on magnetic tape then transcribed to paper. As far as the author is concerned, every case study is an allegation, every statement is an allegation. It is up to the reader to decide if a particular case study or the entire collection is fact or fiction. The author’s endeavor was to give the people involved the opportunity to be heard.
The PERSPECTIVES and SUMMATION were added in 2005 and are presented with the powerful advantage of hindsight.
Rubén Sálaz M.
CASE STUDY # 1:
[Eduardo M., a gentleman past fifty years of age, quite articulate and self-assured. He spoke in Spanish.]
I arrived at Coyote on the 26th of May. I rented a house behind the little store, helped out a friend with his garden, became a small part of the community for the short time I was there. On the night before the June 3rd meeting the police came to my house looking for a certain Pablo L. They stated that one of the Alianza Federal de Mercedes leaders was in jail in Santa Fe, that he wanted very desperately to talk to this Pablo L., for the good of all the members in the Alianza. I told the police, the three of them who were there, that I didn’t know who this Pablo L. was, that I couldn’t help them. They left my house.
The same policemen returned about half an hour later saying that I was Pablo L., that no one in Coyote knew me as a resident of the village. They said I knew where Reies Tijerina was and that I’d better tell them.
“You are mistaken,” I replied. “I am not Pablo L. and I don’t know where Reies is.” They tried to get me to talk to the Alianza leader who was supposedly in jail but I declined. They left my house for the second time.
Within a few minutes the police returned saying that I was the person the man in jail wanted to talk to, that there was an extremely important message for me.
“I don’t believe you,” I said.
“Look, I’m going to bring in Alberto S. so he can talk to you. I know he’s your friend and that you’ll believe him. His wife will come with him.”
Sure enough, in about fifteen minutes here come Alberto and his wife. He informs me that everything the police had told me was true. He finished: “Come to my ranch so you can use my telephone to talk to that man in the Santa Fe jail.”
I decided to accompany my friend and the police to the ranch. I used the phone and in a few minutes I was talking to the man in jail. He told me: I have been ordered that the meeting in Coyote is not to be held. Everyone trying to attend the meeting will be arrested. For the good of everyone, I want to tell the people not to gather at Coyote. Otherwise, everybody is going to be thrown in the can.
I told him I would comply with his request. I hung up the phone, thanked my host, and returned to my house. I remember it was about 4:00 in the morning, Saturday, June 3rd. I didn't sleep any in those wee hours of the morning. I waited for the sun to rise, ate breakfast, then went to the designated place of the meeting.
It turned out that my presence there wasn't needed at all. The place was crawling with state police. I didn't have to tell the Alianza people anything: the gate entrance to the school grounds, where the meeting was going to be held, was locked tight. The police wore their usual side arms, but I didn't see any rifles. So there I was, all by myself, in the midst of a couple of dozen state police. I didn't have to tell the Alianza picnickers not to gather at Coyote: the police saw to it that they couldn't get into the place.
CASE STUDY # 2:
[Diego R., a tall robust man in his fifties. He was wary and did not wish to record his voice at first.]
About two weeks or so before the Coyote conference we held a small gathering in which some men were appointed to work out the details for the June 3rd conference. I was one of the men appointed and I attended to the minor details assigned to me. As far as I could see it was nothing more than a few administrative details the like of which are necessary before any big meeting.
On June 2nd, the day before the scheduled meeting, a state policemen came to where I work. He informs me I was under arrest.
“For what?” I asked.
He said something about an unlawful assembly. The policemen didn't show me a warrant and I didn't think it to ask for one: I was under arrest, right there where I work. I was embarrassed to say the least. I was ordered to get in the police car and I did. I was driven to the court house and put into jail. I was told that there would be an arraignment the following day. I was told nothing about civil rights or legal rights or any other kind of rights.
I soon learned that all of the people who had had some part in taking care of the details for the Coyote conference had been thrown into jail. Later I read some were charged with hurting animals or killing deer and things like that although I don't think you can believe everything you read
To this day no one has explained to me what was unlawful about our meeting to prepare for the Coyote conference. Perhaps this will be done in court. But I still believe I was put in jail mostly because of Alfonso Sanchez and Joe Black, the district attorney and the state police head, didn't want the conference to take place. I believe they thought that by throwing the planners in jail the other people would be intimidated into staying home. I also believe there would never have been any incidents at Tierra Amarilla or anyplace else if the Coyote conference had been allowed to take place. Since when is there a law against assembly? Exactly what is “unlawful assembly,” something that Sanchez and Black decided shouldn't take place?
I won't be intimidated anymore. If I get out of jail I’ll work to have the conference in Coyote at some future date. Or maybe we should have it in Santa Fe so Joe Black and Alfonso Sánchez won't have to send their boys out of town to defend the state, a state in which I thought I had some rights and privileges too.
CASE STUDY # 3:
[Damacio R., a young man of about 22 years. An eye witness to many of the events at Tierra Amarilla, he is writing his own story on the whole affair.]
It was about 10:00 in the morning, June 3rd, when we got to Coyote. When our car pulled up we found the state police and some guys who said they were from the FBI. They had guns, rifles, shotguns, a whole arsenal it seemed to me. They started checking our cars because, they said, somebody told them we had our cars full of dynamite, guns, and ammunition. They checked my car but they didn't find anything. They gave me a little white paper that said anybody who wanted to takeover the land was a communist. We still have the paper to prove that.
I don't know what a communist is but I guess it must be pretty bad. Whatever it is, when somebody wants to discredit you all they have to do is call you a communist. Bad things aren't illegal, immoral, or fattening anymore, they're just Communist inspired. I guess it is a pretty handy label. Matter of fact I myself have a case of communist inspired athlete's foot. Communism and Communists ... what a lot of rot!
CASE STUDY # 4:
[Tomás C., a passionate man in his fifties, a person who seem to be strong willed and determined. He spoke in staccato, fiery Spanish.]
A couple of weeks or so before June 3rd there was a meeting in Tierra Amarilla. Reyes Tijerina invited all of the people to attend a barbecue picnic in Coyote. This barbecue was scheduled for June 3rd. Reyes Tijerina invited everybody, including policemen and officials of the State right up to the Governor himself.
Bueno. On the second of June the police began to arrest all the leaders Reies had appointed to make the preparations for the June 3rd meeting. They arrested S., they arrested J., A.., V., about ten or eleven men. We soon learned of all this but we still felt we could go to Coyote and hold our meeting and enjoy the barbecue. It was my understanding Governor Cargo himself had accepted an invitation so we felt everything would be fine, even if they had thrown some of our people in jail. I myself was going to talk to the Governador about those men in jail. I am not anybody with power or influence. But I am not afraid to speak my mind.
Bueno. We went to the Coyote meeting/barbecue the morning of June 3rd. When I got there, my family with me, we found a whole tribe of policemen blocking the entrance. Immediately they commenced to search everybody in sight. They had plenty of guns themselves, I don't know why they wanted to find more. They searched our cars too. The police told us that they didn't want us to hold any meeting in Coyote while the children started running around. The women were complaining about the food spoiling. The men were becoming irritable about the search.
I asked my friend Sevedeo if he didn't have a place where we could hold the barbecue. It was obvious there would be none at Coyote. We talked a couple of minutes.
Sevedeo then made an announcement: Everybody is invited to come to my ranch. Nobody will bother you there because it is private property. There we can have our barbecue and even take a good swim if you have a mind to. He said that we could go prepare the grounds and let everybody know of the change of scene. The people decided we should have the barbecue on the 5th of June, Monday, and that's how is it stood.
CASE STUDY # 5:
[Arsenio D., a short, stocky, articulate man in his early 50's. He related his story in Spanish.]
We were all looking for to the picnic and barbecue in Coyote. The family woke up early Saturday morning in eager anticipation of the outing. We were all packed except for the last minute items so we got an early start.
Northern New Mexico is especially beautiful and then we enjoyed the ride. On the other side of the village of Gallina, close to Coyote, two State policeman were blocking all traffic. They stopped me, asked me for my driver's license, checked to see that everything was in order, then they asked me where we were going. I hemmed and hawed around that we were going to Española and then to Taos. I didn't see any reason for their questioning and they didn't bother to tell me. They told me just to leave the area, that we had nothing to do in the area, to drive right on through.
I drove on for a few miles till I came to a store. It was still early. I think I woke up the owner. I bought a few things then asked if there was a restaurant where I might buy a cup of coffee. Everything was still closed.
I hit the road toward Española and within a few miles there was another group of state policeman stopping traffic. We went through all the same rigmarole as before: the license, the questions, the same bit. A policeman told me if I was going to Española, fine, to go ahead and don't turn back. He said that we would not be allowed to turn off toward Coyote or T A. He said something about no room to park in Coyote or thereabouts, to go on our way and not turn onto the Coyote road.
I went a ways down the Española highway but I turned back because I knew the picnic was at Coyote. We had all the foods ready and coming all the way from Albuquerque we, my family and I, didn't want to miss it. I was hoping we could find the other people coming to the place and go with them into Coyote. We encountered another family and they told us the barbecue was definitely taking place in the village. We parked close to the entrance to the Coyote road. Minutes later a State policeman went by, closed and locked the gate to the Coyote road. He locked it with a chain. Then he did something I didn't understand: on the other side of the gate he seemed to be digging little holes, over on the side of the road, and burying something small, sort of like a baseball. I’d say he buried, oh, about half a dozen of these. I don't know what they were.
At any rate, he drove back to where we were parked: he asked more questions. We told him we were going into Coyote as soon as more people are arrived.
“Where are you going to park?” he asked.
“Around the school, where the meeting is going to take place,” I answered
“Everything is all locked up,” he informed me. “I have the keys to the gate, I have the keys to the school, and you don't have any business on the premises. You had better leave.”
He was the law and he had a gun to prove it so we left the place. But we parked a few miles down the road. I lifted the hood of my car so we wouldn't be bothered so much. Other people stopped where we were, we got down our food, I started playing my guitar and singing. We had come all this way we might as well do something, it seemed to me.
Meanwhile the State police cars were going back and forth on the road. They would drive by, turn around and go by again as if we had to be watched. I don't see why we couldn't go into Coyote and have our picnic instead of been forced to make the best of things by the side of the road.
We hadn’t been there too long when a reporter came up to us and began taking pictures. We weren't doing anything spectacular to deserve picture taking. I am sure he wouldn't have stopped if we had been having car trouble. I told the man I didn't want my picture taken, not me or any member of my family. He got mad when I wouldn't let him photograph my family.
“You should cooperate,” he fumed.
“Cooperating means letting you do anything you want,” I told him. He had a woman with him ... they both got mad and left us in peace. Nevertheless I saw them taking pictures from a distance. I guess I could have done something about it but I didn't want to break my guitar over his head. I value my guitar too much.
A while later a policeman came up and told us to leave the premises. We told him we were waiting to go to the barbecue in Coyote. The policeman went only to have another one drive up shortly.
TJ and GOVERNOR Cargo are coming to the meeting, the man said
“Fine,” we said, “we'll wait for them.” We were happy.
A few minutes later the policemen came back to tell us that neither Cargo nor TJ was going to be able to attend, that the Governor had asked everyone to return home, that another meeting would be announced soon.
We were disappointed but we finally drove on, believing what the police had told us. I drove to Española where somebody told me the whole thing I had been a bluff, that the police just told us that to get us out of the area. I don't know who to believe anymore but I decided to drive back and try one more time to find the group for the picnic. There at the cut off to Coyote and Tierra Amarilla the state police had a roadblock. They were refusing to let anyone go through. There was a white truck in front of me, he got turned back, then the same thing happened it to me. I gave up and returned to Albuquerque.
I don't hate the police, they have a tough job. But if they had just bothered to explain, if they had talked in a simple way in instead of being harsh and angry… all I was doing was taking my family on a barbecue and later to listen to some people talk to us about some of our problems. All of the policeman I saw were Spanish. I think they know how to be civil and courteous. But they acted as if they were handling animals. I don't know who runs the State Police but if I was doing it I wouldn't let them behave as if they were the Gestapo. I'll bet they would have shot somebody if we had tried to go into Coyote. But that's the way it this: the rich do more or less as they want while the poor people get justice. Sure, everybody's equal, just some people are more equal than others. And the police have the guns to back it up.
CASE STUDY # 6:
[Dolores V., an attractive young mother of about twenty years. She spoke English and at times in Spanish.]
I had already been in Canjilón for a few days when members of the Alianza began to arrive on the morning of June 5th. I went early to visit with Mr. and Mrs. Diego M. and his wife. They’re good friends of ours, my husband and I. My baby of nine months and I had been enjoying ourselves. Monday, June 5th, people started coming in for the barbecue and to spend the day, you know. The people were happy, everybody seemed to be having a good time.
We all were chatting inside the house at about 5:00 when some of the ladies told me to come outside. I went out and saw all of those policemen coming toward us. At the time, climbing up the hill like they were, they looked like ants, there were so many. They had guns and rifles pointing at us but it seemed they were all coming directly toward me! Suddenly I remembered my baby, sleeping on top of the bed inside the house. I was afraid she might roll over and hurt herself so I turned to go get her.
One of the policeman told me: “You'd better not move or I'll shoot you.”
I told him: “I left my baby on top of the bed and it’s high, she could fall and hit her head. Let me go and I'll come right back.”
Another policeman said: “You'd better not move or we'll shoot you right there!” You know how a man sounds when he's mad, the tone of voice. That's how all of these policeman sounded and I thought to myself If I move they'll kill me right here. So I didn't say it anymore.
Every policeman had a gun or rifle and they pointed them at us in what was to me a very frightening menace. They surrounded us completely, you could see them every where around the entire area.
I was becoming a frantic about my baby. I ask different policeman to PLEASE let me go see about her. Finally one of them took pity, I guess, and consented to let me go inside the house. He came in behind me with his gun at my back the whole time. GRACIAS A DIOS the baby was still sleeping. I put her in a blanket and returned outside as I had been ordered to do.
The police searched all the men for guns. I was the only woman they searched, as far as I know. Then they searched all the cars and trucks. They didn't find one single gun in the whole place.
Next they made everybody get inside of the barbed wire fence so they could ask us questions. Some people started taking pictures, reporters I guess. I say they took pictures for more than half an hour. Then it started to rain, a strong driving downpour. I asked one of the cops to at least let me take the baby inside and put her in her playpen but he wouldn't allow it. Thank goodness she caught nothing more serious than a cold, considering what she might have caught.
I guess it was about eight or nine o’clock when the police finished with the search and questions and name taking. We were still out there in the cold. One of the cops, I don't know his name, asked another one if I was going to stay the night there inside of the barbed wire fence corral with the other people.
“Hell no,” he replied, “we have to take her in.”
They hadn't even accused me of anything… yet.
CASE STUDY # 7
[Alejandro B., a short stocky man in his early 40's. He was still emotionally upset, especially over the incidents concerning his family. He spoke Spanish.]
It was a past noon when we are arrived at Canjilón. We made sandwiches for our six kids. The children taken care of for the time being, we talked and joked around with the rest of the people there. Estevan M. and I got to talking about going to the hearing up at Tierra Amarilla. We and decided to go, got in his car, and went. Maybe it was about two o'clock.
We arrived at Tierra Amarilla in any short while. As we drove up to the courthouse and were about to get out of the car we heard shots begin to ring out. At first we thought maybe some car was backfiring but sure enough they were gunshots. Estevan and I were undecided as to whether or not to go in. We were curious as to what was going on but we sure didn't want to get shot in the process. We didn't have any gun with us.
We made our way to the courthouse and stood outside the door for a few seconds. The gun shots were getting louder and clearer. I opened the door and peeked in. There were people running this way and that. I saw people lying on the floor in an effort to avoid getting shot.
“Let's go in,” Estevan challenged, although he spoke in a whisper. So we entered the courthouse.
There were some Alianza people in their and some men I had never seen before. Suddenly I was bewildered. What were we supposed to do? I didn't know what to think, even. About that time a bullet whizzed passed me and buried itself in the wall close to where I was standing. I hit the floor and came to my senses: this wasn't just some movie, somebody was shooting at me! At any rate that's what I thought at the time. The idea of a stray bullet didn't enter my mind.
“Lets get out of here!” I hollered to Estevan who was stretched out on the floor a few feet away. He nodded nervously as the both of us crawled back toward the door. We opened it and sprang to our feet just in time to see a State Police car drive up.
“If we run out the police will come after us,” Estevan said out loud what had just flashed through my mind.
“I know, but if we stay in here we're libel to get ourselves shot,” I answered quickly. I saw the policeman pull out a rifle as he bolted out of his car. “We stand a better chance inside until we can make it to the car.” We moved back into the courthouse, slammed the door behind us. “Over by the window,” I told my friend. We didn't see anybody outside so we opened it and threw ourselves out.
We sprang into our feet and began to run toward our car when somebody yelled “Hey you men!” I almost stopped and turned when I heard a rifle shot whiz over my head. We were sitting, no, running ducks. They could have shot us if they had wanted to. We turned a corner as a couple more shots blasted over or around us, I couldn't be sure. I assumed the police were shooting at us. As I think of it now it might have been somebody else but I figured everybody except the police was inside the courthouse.
“They're shooting at US!” yelled Estevan. “Those dirty cabrones!” I imagine he was just as scared as me but now he was boiling mad.
As we turned the corner we almost ran into a parked police car. It was loaded with rifles and guns.
“I’m going to defend myself,” said Estevan as he helped himself to a rifle from the car. “If they’re going to shoot me I'm going to take a few of them with me!”
In the fright-passion-anger of the moment I armed myself also. All the same we were going toward our car to get away from the whole mess when some bullets hit the dirt around us. I turned to see who had done the shooting when I saw another police car coming at us.
“Let's get out of---” I was saying when the whiz of a bullet inches from my ear cut short my voice. There was another and then another. I gnashed my teeth and opened fire on that damned police car. Both of us did. It was a temptation to shoot at the driver. I felt he had been shooting to kill me. As we pumped bullets into the car both of us must have shot away from the driver. I’m a bricklayer, not a hired gun. I can’t just shoot down a human being, shooting at me or not.
The patrol car backed off. I don't think the driver had nearly as much courage backing off as he had driving up and shooting at anybody who happened to be moving. Somehow we had been maneuvered away from our car. I knew more police cars would arrive immediately.
“Get rid of that gun,” Estevan said. Both of us threw our weapons on the ground and ran to find refuge where ever we could. We ran toward some houses with the hope of hiding until we could get to our car.
We barged into one of the houses. Two women happened to be there when we stumbled in. I could see they were frightened. “I am extremely sorry,” I stammered. I didn't know them, they didn't know us. “Everybody is shooting at everybody at the courthouse,” I tried to explain. “Everybody's gone nuts.”
“Yes,” one of the ladies said, “we’ve been hearing gunshots.”
“We were running away from the whole thing,” I said, “and decided to hide so we wouldn't get shot. We'll leave the minute the firings stops.”
The ladies said it would be all right.
We've waited a for a while even after the shots had seemed to die down. We thanked the ladies and made a burning path to our car. Nobody seemed to be a around, least ways we didn't see anybody. Course, we didn't look too hard. We dived into the car and gunned it for all it was worth back to Canjilón.
Right before Canjilón there was a police roadblock. They stopped us, my friend and I, searched us and the car. They didn't find anything. We were told to get moving out of the area.
“My family is camping over there with the rest of the group,” I explained to the police.
“You can't to go into the camp,” they informed me. “Nobody can go in and nobody can come out.” I explained that my wife was there with our six kids, that we had been searched, that we weren't a danger to anyone.
“Get out of the area. Nobody is getting into that encampment.”
There was absolutely no other choice: we got in our car and drove away. But the further we drove from Canjilón the worse I felt. “Stop the car,” I told Estevan. “I can't go and leave my family alone. Stop the car, I’m getting out.”
“Somebody will shoot you,” Estevan said.
“I’m not leaving my kids unprotected. Stop the car.” He did. “I’ll double back and come into camp from the back over the mountain.” I got out of the car and hurried off the road without looking back .
(CONTINUED in # 7 below.)
CASE STUDY # 8:
[Cesar R., a very articulate, muscular, bespectacled man in his early forties. He spoke in Spanish.]
At about 10:30 I arrived at the privately owned ranch where we were going on to have the barbecue there at the Canjilón area. The date was the 5th of June and my entire family was with me. We arrived, greeted the people already there, prepared the camp and then the noon meal. After eating it began to rain so a couple of men and I had ample opportunity to talk about the men, members of the Federal Alliance of Land Grants, who had been picked up for illegal assembly. One of the men suggested that we drive up to T A in order to find out what the bond was. We thought it was a good idea so three of us drove up in my car.
When we got into town we headed for the court house, walked in and asked to see the District Attorney Alfonso Sánchez about the bond money. It was our understanding he had ordered the arrests so we felt he had also set bond. The person at the desk was telling us that the D.A. was not in the building when six or seven men entered with black silk masks covering the bottom parts of their faces. I don't know who they were, I had never seen them before and I didn't recognize them from their clothes. Some of them were wearing straw hats while others wore those little caps with small brims at the front. One of them had on a knit shirt. They were carrying those tiny Tommy guns or machine guns. I had never seen automatic weapons like those before.
I thought the whole thing was absurd until shots began to ring out in the courthouse. The men in the black masks went into the other rooms of the court house and the shots rang out stronger and seemingly louder and closer. I dived to the floor and told the ladies and the two men to do the same.
I was still on the floor when I saw some Alliance members come in. I yelled out for them to get down but the gunshots probably prevented them from a hearing me well. I made my way on my hands and knees over to the phone booth. I wanted to call for help but there was a man in the booth. I think he must have been some kind of reporter. When I saw I could not use the phone booth I got up on my feet and sprinted back to where I had been. The phone rang on one of the ladies’ desks but I suggested not to answer it yet because some hothead might burst in and think we were working against him. When the telephone stopped ringing I thought maybe it would be a good idea to use it since the phone booth was being used. Just then Francisco O. came into the room with a gun in his hand. He fired the gun until it was clicking empty, all of the time keeping it pointed toward the floor.
“What are you doing?” I shouted. I was shook but good by that time.
“I was pointing at the floor,” he remarked rather calmly.
“Don't you realize a bullet could ricochet and hurt somebody”
“This isn't going to hurt anybody.”
“You used all the bullets, what are you going to do now? We are all at peace here,” I told him.
“These are just blanks,” he informed me. “I am just trying to make noise.”
He exited, presumably to go to some other part of the court house. I decided to try to use the phone booth again because it afforded some protection. The reporter was still there. I guess it wasn't really so long a time but it seemed like an eternity. The gun shots didn't show any sign of letting up as I waited by the booth for a minute. It was then that I saw Anastacio F. He had two men walking in front of him.
“Get down on your knees,” he ordered. They did. “Look stupids, I don't even have any bullets in this gun.” He showed them the empty chambers but they didn't move, even after he walked away from them. (For all I know they’re still kneeling there.)
I moved toward the other side of the room because I saw somebody lying on the floor but as I passed a window I heard the glass break. Somebody is shooting in from the outside! I thought to myself, so I went down and hugged the floor. As I think about it now I couldn't be certain if the bullet was coming in or going out. I was sure of one thing: not everybody was using blanks. I looked around for a way of getting out of the court house. I was afraid to go out the door if somebody was a shooting through the window. As I looked around I saw two men in black masks bringing down some man who was all bloodied-up. That did it. I had seen enough! I picked myself up and raced across the room toward an open window. Just before I threw myself through of the window somebody else, a man, did the same thing. I almost landed on top of him on the ground outside.
“Please, please let me go!” said the man as we were getting up.
“What?” I said. I didn't know the man.
“POR FAVOR, I want to go home, I have to get home right away,” the man said it as he stood up straight.
I came to my senses after my panic. I could see the man was as terrified as I had been. “Yes, go on ahead, go on home, just be careful,” I cautioned him.
“Please, my wife is very sick, I have to get home,” the man pleaded.
“Sir, I am not holding you. Go on home or wherever you wish, just get down so that---” Somebody shot at us with some kind of automatic weapon. We dived into the earth when we felt the bullets hit the wall above our heads.
“Go home, sir, but don't make a target of yourself,” I told him as both of us scurried away in opposite directions. I crawled toward the river or arroyo that is there by the courthouse. I made it into the water without being fired upon anymore. I bathed my face and neck in the cool water. From the bank I turned to see what else was happening. I still heard gunshots. I saw two policeman running away toward the mountains being chased by two men. They made it to the mountains, or so in seemed to me. I saw the dust raised by bullets as they'd buried themselves in the walls of the various buildings and houses there at TA. I noticed that the bullets would die down from one side of the courthouse only to start up on the other side. Then I saw some of those individuals in the black masks charge out of the court house and blaze a path to sanctuary in the mountains. I guess more police were arriving as people started to leave the courthouse, I don't know.
I decided to make a try for my car. I made it, found my two companions huddled under it, and we took off for Canjilón.
“Who were those guys with the masks and machine guns?” I asked.
One of my companions replied, “I can’t be sure but I’d bet they were from La Mano Negra.”
“What in the world is la Mano Negra?” I asked as we sped down the road. At about that time some car passed us as if it was a rocket. “¿Qué es la Mano Negra?” I repeated.
“You’d better speed up before they blockade the road,” said my other companion as another car went by us like a jet. “Then we’ll never get back to camp.”
Then it finally hit me: I was at the Courthouse…I could be accused of shooting somebody! A bullet couldn’t have frightened me more. I could see me spending years in jail merely because I happened to be there. But I tried to reassure myself…neither I nor my companions had taken any guns into the Courthouse. I didn’t fire a single shot. The reporter in the phone booth saw me twice, he would be able to testify that I didn’t do any of the shooting. The people behind the desks, the men and the ladies, would be able to do the same. I calmed down a little. I had been taken by surprise at the Courthouse just as much as anybody else.
We drove into the camp at the Canjilón ranch. We told some of the people what had just happened at T A . Somebody mentioned la Mano Negra, the Black hand again. I was told the Black Hand was a group of men who would go to any means, including murder, to get what they wanted. I was told they practiced witchcraft, witchcraft that always worked. I looked around the camp to see if I could recognize any of those men at the courthouse. There was nobody in camp who had been at T A, except me and my two companions. That shook me up just a little. Maybe an hour or so later the State Police arrived, held everybody at gunpoint, and refused to let anyone in or out.
I’ve had time to think about the whole incident by now. I was an eyewitness to everything I described. I haven't talked about anything I myself didn't see. I believe the men wearing masks were not members of the Alianza. I have been in the organization for a long and time and I know most of the people in it. I can't say they were members of La Mano Negra because before that day I never knew such a thing existed. Whoever those men were, I believe they and the officials at the courthouse had it in for each other from happenings way before the events of June 5th. I think they were fighting an old fight that had nothing to do with the land issue.
The police allegedly reported that there were about 30 bullet holes in the courthouse. If five gunshots rang out that afternoon I swear there were no less than 200 firearm and explosions. I would say that 200 would be the absolute minimum.
If somebody in the Alianza was going to make a citizen’s arrest on the District Attorney it certainly wasn't me or the two people with me. We went up to see about the bond. I am not familiar with a citizen’s arrest but I understand a man in Albuquerque, a man named Luciano Chavez, was shot and killed by a policeman named Whitehouse after Chavez had been put under what amounted to a citizen’s arrest. I feel if I had put the D.A. under a citizen’s arrest I would probably have been thrown into jail, while the person who "arrested” Chavez, somebody Hassinger, I think, will be vindicated since Whitehouse killed Chavez because of whatever happened, supposedly.
I would be willing to bet there was something between the policeman who was shot up at T A and the person who shot him. I would bet there is more to the story than the public knows or reads in the newspaper.
If the people really were kidnapped up at T A, something that has to be proved in court, I guess, nothing happened to any of them. At any rate, nothing that I know of. But I would bet that anybody who happened to be at the courthouse at T A on June 5th will be charged with a major crime and, courts being what they are, most of the people charged will serve time in jail.
CASE STUDY # 9
[Flavio Z., a short, stocky, individualistic man in his early fifties. He spoke in Spanish and English.]
When they arrested and jailed these people for the allegedly unlawful assembly a group of us got together to raise the bond and bail them out. Sunday morning, June 4th, we had everything in order so we went up to Santa Fe with the idea of bailing them out. We were informed that the district attorney Alfonso Sánchez or the U.S. marshal Emilio Naranjo had to sign the bond papers. We looked all over but couldn't find either one of them. We went as far as 0jo Caliente looking for either of them but to no avail: nobody knew where they were, supposedly. We spent the entire day searching because we had everything except the signature necessary to get our friends out of jail. I guess of this signature rule is the law, I don't know.
Anyway, we talked to Bennie Naranjo, the sheriff of Río Arriba County. It turned out he could sign of the paper there at a Española. He did, whereupon we hightailed it back to Santa Fe. There we were told that we had to have a release for each person on a the different piece of paper per person. Since the document we had carried all of the names it was worthless.
It was 10:00 at night but I asked the policemen at the desk, “If we go back to Española and get one release for each of these people will you honor it when we get back?” He said no, that it was getting too late. Well, we hadn't eaten anything all day, we were completely worn out, so we decided to grab a bite to eat and returned to Albuquerque. That's what we did.
The following day, June 5th, we returned at about two in the afternoon. It turned out the bondsman was eating or something so we dropped by the City Hall to see if we could talk to the men in jail. They informed us the men had already been set free. Very elated, we were returning to Albuquerque when down the road a ways coming toward Albuquerque from Santa Fe we saw a road block of about eight state police cars. They stopped us, ordered us out of the car, searched everything, even under the hood. They searched us up and down, this side and that.
“We'll have to take you downtown to investigate you,” one of them said.
They put me in a police car with three policemen. I told them, “Its a shame that three policemen are needed it to take in a man in his fifties to be investigated. All you had to do was tell me to come in and I would have come willingly. All this scandal isn't necessary.”
We all walked into the city hall and we hadn't hardly stopped walking when one of the officers, a blondie sitting behind a typewriter, said, “You, you, and you are under $5,000 bond.”
“I thought the charge came first,” I said. “What were we doing?”
“Because you were inciting a riot,” he replied
They threw all three of us in jail. We've learned about the events in T A via the grapevine. The radio in the car we were driving wasn't working so we knew absolutely nothing about the goings on in the north. We weren't even traveling toward the north to where maybe somebody could think, these guys are going up to cause more trouble. But we were driving south toward Albuquerque. Inciting a riot! DIOS MIO! And A $5,000 bond just for safe keeping.
We spent two days and two nights in jail. Here we had tried to get some men out of jail and we land there ourselves. Kind of the funny now. The minute my lawyer called up we were out of the can and all charges were dropped. At any rate, I guess they've been dropped. I haven't heard anything else about them. But they had served their purpose: we were kept out of circulation, we were frightened into silence for a while. But for next time…a perro viejo no hay tustus.
CASE STUDY # 10
[Roberto J., a National Guardsman from Albuquerque. He is a land grant heir himself.]
Late Monday afternoon, June 5, I was called from the Armory here in Albuquerque. We were to assemble at 8:30. Although I wasn’t told about the purpose I assumed it had something to do with the Tierra Amarilla incidents. When all the men were together in the Armory we were informed that we would pull out of Albuquerque at 11:30 that night, that we were heading north.
CASE STUDY # 11
[Juan C., outwardly calm and self-possessed, but fiery when aroused. A rancher in northern New Mexico, he is about fifty or so. He spoke in Spanish.]
The camp where the June 5th picnic was taking place is private property. I have my documents, my abstract, the receipts for all taxes. The entire ranch is a free and clear of any and all liens. It is my ranch.
But when the State Police arrived they pulled up as if it was their own private playground. They drove in in a cloud of dust. Those on foot jumped fences, they pointed guns and rifles as if they were in the jungles of Vietnam.
I was getting ready to butcher a sheep for the barbecue when the invasion first attracted my attention. I walked over to the group of police, told them to put their guns away, that I personally would insure their safety. One of them said, “Come over here Juan.” I did, extended my hand to shake his, and as he took it I felt something hard pressed into my back. I turned to see the blue steel of a rifled barrel. Another policeman grabbed the knife I was going to use in the butchering of the sheep. I guess he thought I was going to attack the State Police with a butcher knife.
The police commenced to ask questions, put gun barrels in our faces. They searched all the buildings and especially my house where they moved beds, looked underneath, searched closets, pantries, chests of drawers, the whole works. They impounded some of the cars and trucks that had been left on my property. I don't remember what reason they gave… fact is I don't even remember if they gave a reason, everything was happening so fast.
I feel the State Police showed nothing but scorn and disdain for my private property. But there are wasn't anything I could do about it: they had all the guns.
CASE STUDY # 12
[Ambrosio U---, a broad shouldered mustachioed man of about forty. A WW II veteran, he spoke in Spanish.]
I was with my nephew and niece at the Canjilón picnic. I’d say there were about 40 people there, mostly women and children. Maybe there were about a dozen men in the camp.
At about 5:00 we saw on a State policeman coming into the field. One of the men in the group waved his white hat at him, waved him into the camp. The policemen came in looking everywhere at once, it seemed. He had his rifle trained toward a group. You’d think he was going into some sort of combat. He talked, no, growled, in a very menacing tone of voice and about that time another policemen came at us from behind.
I didn't have any idea as to what was happening. We were just on a picnic, looking forward to the barbecue.
“Put your hands on your heads, everybody!” ordered the policeman. “Go to that open spot where there aren't any trees.” We did. “Everybody kneel so you can be searched!” There were many policemen on the scene by then.
CASE STUDY # 13
[Rudolfo G.---, a very soft spoken man of about middle age.]
When the state police surrounded us and told us all to kneel and put our hands on our heads I told one of them that I was disabled in such of way as to prevent me from kneeling. The policeman said it, “I don't care, you'd better kneel!” He pointed his rifle directly at me. I can’t kneel, it is too painful, so I had to lay on the ground in order to be searched.
CASE STUDY # 14
[Gabriel L.---, rather thin and pale, a man of about forty-five.]
Right after they made us march up on the side of the hill where they investigated us I felt the need to use the restroom. I have a urinary affliction that makes me need the restroom very often. I asked one of the policemen if I could at least go behind one of the walls so that children and women and men wouldn't have to watch. In a very angry voice the policeman growled Urinate right where you are. Well, I had no choice. I tried to turn away as best I could. The same thing happened again while the police had their guns on us.
When one of the photographers came to take pictures none of us wanted them taken. One policemen came and tore off my hat so my picture could be taken then afterward he put it back on me by shoving it down over my ears. I am disabled to the point that I can't work. I even need a cane to walk around with. The policeman was certain I could not defend myself.
CASE STUDY # 12 [Continued: Ambrosio U.]
About that time some trucks drove up and out sprang what turned out to be National Guardsmen. Immediately they surrounded us and there we were in the center of all those state police and national guards with their guns pointing at us. We were nervous and worried before but you can imagine how we felt then. ¡HIJO! I didn’t know what to think anymore.
We were searched for guns but they didn't find any because we didn't have any. I had gone up there for a picnic, nothing else. I didn't go up to shoot it out with anybody, least of all the police and the guardsmen. If I had thought about having trouble I certainly wouldn't have taken the children. The only weapon the search produced was a small pocket knife with about an inch blade on it, the kind you clean your finger nails with.
After the search they started with the infernal questioning: What are you doing here? Who is in charge here? What business do you have here?
I tried to explain about the barbecue, the picnic, camping out, but they wouldn't buy in. They said something about looking for trouble, about starting trouble, about taking over by violence, I don't remember what. They could see there were mostly women and children. They hadn't found any firearms or ammunition, as far as I knew. But no, we couldn't just be people on a barbecue, that would make them the laughingstock of the state of New Mexico.
We were still in the barbed wire fence corral when its started to rain. Everybody was getting soaked so one of the guard leaders said “Go over by the side of the house so you won't get so wet.” We stood under the eaves but there were so many people involved some of us were still getting soaked by the run-off. Somebody ordered us to get in the garage.
We were herded in only to find a car in it. It was a one car garage and the car was in it so you can imagine how much room there was. Half of the people were told to get into the adjoining building. This was where the sheep were put in extremely cold weather, I guess. There was all sorts of manure in the place. The roof on it sheltered us from the rain, true, but nothing sheltered us from the animal droppings on the floor. I would never have gone in there of my own accord, rain or no rain. Guns of the law was the only thing that made me stay in there.
(Continued in # 12 below.)
CASE STUDY # 15
[Elvira L---, mother of three children. She spoke in a very calm manner, in Spanish.]
The garage wasn’t large enough but we squeezed in around the car. The wind began to blow, thus revealing many cracks in the walls. The wind on my wet clothes made it very cold. You couldn’t avoid touching the walls of the garage, it was so crowded, and big chunks of plaster would fall off. The garage was made of wood, it was very old. The way we were crowded in we couldn’t help but be against the walls.
There were a couple of little babies in the group, you know, about eight or nine months. I told María to ask the Guards if they would let her go to camp for some coats or blankets, especially for the babies. She asked one of he Guards and she went with him right behind her. I’m glad they let her go. It was very cold.
CASE STUDY # 12 [Continued; Ambrosio U.]
When the rain stopped one of the big wheel Guards came and said, “We want all of you to get in these paddy wagons so we can transport you.” The wagon was backed up and we got in.
I don’t know the capacity of one of those wagons. The seats got full right away so they put people on the floor. If we were crowded in the garage and manure place you should have seen us in that wagon. And just for good measure they closed the doors on us. We were freezing in the garage but after a little while in the wagon with the doors slammed tight we were roasting and suffocating. We asked the man in the cab to please turn on the air conditioner but he shook his head and said “No.”
Talk about being nervous…this was the worst time for me…I needed a smoke real bad but it was out of the question. Air for breathing was scarce enough and the smoke would have poisoned even more. We asked to turn on the radio so we could find out what was happening. The man in the cab refused again.
We were in the wagon for maybe an hour when a man in civilian clothes opened the door. He had a tablet or notebook in his hand. First thing he asked was “Who’s the leader here?” The little kids started crying, everybody was hungry, it was pitch black outside. We told him again there wasn’t any leader, the same thing we had told him a hundred times.
He said “We’re not going to take you to jail after all…” for I don’t know what reason or something. “The National Guard is going to take your names for roll call in the morning. After your names have been taken go get in line over there.”
The Guardsmen had their rifles in hand as others took our names. When they finally finished they told us “You can go down to your camp and get your food to eat. You can build small fires…not too big or we’ll put all of them out. All fires have to be dead by 11 o’clock.” We did what they said.
(Continued in # 12 below.)
CASE STUDY # 6 [Continued; Dolores V.]
I’d say it was about 9:30 when the state police took me away from the rest of the people in Canjilón. Maybe we got to Santa Fe at 10:00 p.m. or thereabouts. All the time the cop would be asking me, “Where is Reies Tijerina? And I would answer “I don't know.”
When I saw all the tanks and war machinery they had there at the entrance to Canjilón I told the cop driving: “Where do you guys think you're going, Vietnam? Do you need to call out to the whole tribe of National Guard's and the state police just to catch a half dozen guys? Where are your Indian Scouts?”
“Shut up,” said the cop. “Your people murdered one of our men. Keep your comments to yourself.” He got madder when I laughed but I didn't say anything else. The state police are such big brave men, you know.
When we arrived in Santa Fe, my baby and I and the cop, they charged me with the kidnapping and murder, I don't remember the exact wording. They didn't tell me who I kidnapped or who I had murdered. They got my fingerprints, took my picture, everything like they do with all criminals, I guess. They then they took my baby and put her in the welfare home. Everything before that was all nonsense and I knew it, but when they took my little baby…
They put me in jail, the same wing where the men were jailed. I was so embarrassed. As we were walking to my cell one of the prisoners had just stepped out of the shower. “You should at least let me know if your bringing a woman in here,” he said in Spanish.
I was in a sell up by myself but men were in the cells at next to me. I guess they think women criminals don't mind been in cells next two men.
When they questioned me they'd always be trying to find out where Reies Tijerina was. There wasn't a woman present any of the times they questioned me. Somebody told me later that there should have been. They did give me permission to make one telephone call so I called my aunt and uncle in Albuquerque to come and get my baby out of the welfare home. I didn't want her spending the night there. But they wouldn't let my aunt get the baby. They said it was too late at night for that.
(Continued in # 6 below.)
CASE STUDY # 7 [Continued; Alejandro B.]
I walked in the mountains for maybe five or six hours. During this time I saw helicopters patrolling the area. I’d hide every time I saw one of those noisy nosey birds. They never saw me, although they flew real low, as far as I could figure out. Those mountains could hide an army. They’re beautiful, so green and clean and free.
I was close to the camp when from the top of a hill I heard the police talking through a loudspeaker. I wasn’t close enough to hear the words distinctly, it was more like a mumbling murmur through the trees.
I came very close to the camp within a few minutes. I was so close I could see my wife cooking over the camp fire. I could see my kids around the fire. I thought as to how to slip into camp unnoticed. I stalked the remaining distance, hiding behind this tree and that when I saw somebody, a man in some kind of uniform. It wasn’t a policeman, not that kind of uniform. I was about five yards behind the man…he had his back to me, I came closer…about four or five feet behind him…I saw no other way of getting into camp so I said, almost whispered… “Hey.”
HE TURNED WITH A START! “Who…who are you?!” He gasped as he leveled his rifle at me, point blank.
“I’m the father of those kids over there by that fire,” I explained. “I—“
The sound of the bullet going into the chamber was the loudest thunder I ever heard. Immediately I raised both hands high into the air. He was so scared I thought he’d open fire. “I’m not armed, I’m one of the picnickers,” I told him hurriedly, “DON’T SHOOT.”
What’s your name?! Hollered out the guy.
I told him. Then my wife came running up. “Don’t shoot, DON’T SHOOT, HE’S MY HUSBAND” she screamed. Some of the other people came up then, saying they knew me, telling him not to shoot. Thank God he didn’t.
He marched me over to the house where the police had their headquarters. I saw that the other men were from the National Guard, the first time I had noticed somebody other than police were involved.
The police tied my arms with ropes behind my back. They threw me in a car and took me to the ranger station. I would guess this was about nine or ten o’clock, the night of June 5. There were two policemen in the car with me, both of them were gringos. One of them said over the car radio: “We’ve got one of the fifteen-centers with us.” The ropes were tied extremely tight, they were cutting off my “fifteen-center” circulation.
When we got to the ranger station they began to “investigate.” They hadn’t charged me with anything, they didn’t inform me as to my rights, nothing like that. They asked me question after question. I told them what had happened to me but they weren’t satisfied. They wanted to learn where Reies was, had I shot the policeman, where the other people were…I told them I didn’t know so they started again. There was one main policeman, I don’t know his name but I’ll know him the next time I see him.
Later they sent a man back to bring in my wife for questioning. When she arrived they began asking her all sorts of questions. They kept her there till about three in the morning when they finally returned her to the six children left alone at the camp.
They wouldn’t let me go, I spent the remaining night there. The next morning they took me, arms bound with ropes behind my back, to the Santa Fe jail. The ropes were so tight I though my arms would start bleeding. On those winding roads I rolled from side to side every time we hit a curve, my tied arms preventing me from holding on to something. You’d think the police were going to a fire, they drove like maniacs. You’d think it was Korea or Vietnam.
They treated me like a mongrel dog getting kicked around in some back alley. The police didn’t advise me as to my constitutional rights. What kind of rights do the State Police give you when they think you’re a “fifteen-center”?
CASE STUDY # 16
[Domingo G., about thirty-eight years old. This man was still angry over the incident he experienced.]
I have a home in the Hernández area. On the evening of June 5, I don’t remember what time it was, there were some loud raps on the door. I opened it to find a group of men and soldiers. They began to ask questions in rapid fire succession, one of which was “Are you a member of the Federal Alliance of Land Grants?” I answered in the affirmative.
“We’ve got to search your house,” the man said, whereupon some National Guards and some police (I guess they were police) entered my home and started searching.
What are you looking for?” I asked them.
“Have you seen Reies Tijerina?”
“No, I haven’t,” I replied. “It’s for sure he’s not here.”
“We’re gong to see for ourselves,” the guy told me.
They looked in every room, every closet, under the beds, even in the chests of drawers. They really began to irritate me. “You won’t find Reies in a drawer,” I told them.
“Do you have any ammunition in the house?” somebody asked me as he took down some information. I don’t know what he was writing.
“No, I don’t have any but—“
“Why do you have those rifles over there?”
Those are antiques, they haven’t been shot in years,” I explained. “Those rifles are so old they probably can’t even shoot anymore.”
“We have to take them with us,” another man informed me. “Have you got an attic or a cellar?” I told them I didn’t but they made me go outside and prove there was no entrance from outside. They checked the premises on the outside, all the time firing questions, then suddenly they disappeared into the night.
And that was it. They took my antique rifles, they moved beds around, checked the closets, moved clothes in drawers. SANTO NINO. My family and I were scared to death they’d confiscate us too with their ARE YOU NOW OR HAVE YOU EVER BEEN A MEMBER OF THE FEDERAL ALLIANCE OF LAND GRANTS?
They didn’t have a search warrant, or if they did they didn’t bother to show it to me. They didn’t need a warrant, they had guns and badges. They just said, “We’ve got to search your house,” and they did. By God I’m mad now! I’d like to see those pinches try it again! The Constitution? The Bill of Rights? Illegal search and seizure? Who the hell declared martial law, Moshe Jolly or Secretary of Defense McBlack? Maybe it was King Alfonso the first from the District-Attorneydom of Santa Fe or was Vice President Cargo the genius behind the mess. Nobody is ever searching my house again without legal authority, by God, I’ll promise you that!
CASE STUDY # 17:
[Carmela D., the mother of two children incarcerated at the Canjilón camp. She spoke in both languages.]
Everything had been ready to leave for Coyote but when we heard that people were being arrested we decided not to risk it. We learned that someone had offered his ranch as the site for another barbecue so we planned to attend that. The children went with my brother-in-law since they were very eager to camp out. I was going to follow along later. So they went up on the morning of the June 5th.
That afternoon I heard a news bulletin about some “raiders” up at Tierra Amarilla, at the Courthouse. The newscaster didn't seem to know if it was a jailbreak, a raid, or what. But I didn't worry very much because I knew my children were in Canjilón, not Tierra Amarilla.
At about 5:30 I turned on the television to see the news. ¡Dios Mío! My God, you don't know the terror that struck me when I saw my own children on television surrounded by policemen and National Guards. I burst into tears and sobbed even more when the news man said nobody could enter or leave the encampment.
Later I tried to control myself. I tried to tell myself that maybe those people at T A were attacking the camp, that the guards and police were only trying to help. I heard something about “protective custody” and tried to believe it was all for their own good, that they would be escorted home, that they would all arrive home shortly.
I waited on through the night. I thought of my children and all those people with their hands on their heads. The News said they were being held in a sheep pen. The News said it was raining to the north. I had never heard of protective custody before this. I spent the night of June 5th crying, listening to the news, telling myself everything was going to be all right, and crying some more.
CASE STUDY # 12 [Continued: Ambrosio U.]
I was so upset…the kids were crying, the women were terrified…I couldn’t eat supper that night. Everybody went to bed but I for one couldn’t sleep much until the wee hours of the morning. Wherever I looked there was a guardsman with his rifle pointing, threatening. I still didn’t know what it was all about, that was the worst part.
The next morning, Tuesday, June 6th, I was up early, about 5:00. I built a fire and noticed there were many more guardsmen than last night. Evidently reinforcements had come in during the night. Everything was still silent, calm like in the early morning hours.
In time all the people woke up and began to prepare breakfast. We've had used up the water we had brought so I told one of the kids to fetch some. Isabel said she'd go. She yelled for the guard. They had ordered us to call while we were 20 ft. away, no closer. The guard went with her. She returned with this is terrible looking green, muddy water. The pond where the water came from was where the animals drank, the sheep and the cattle. I said to the girl: "Look, there's a spring or a well up a little higher, why didn't you get clean water?” She replied that the guard had said the only water available was from the pond. Well, what was I to do. I made coffee with the water but it tasted terrible. I don't know how to express it. We tried to drink the coffee but I was afraid some cows or sheep might have got in it. The more I looked at it, the more I thought about it. Well, we wound up not drinking any. I fried some eggs but I couldn't eat.
CASE STUDY # 14 [Continued: Gabriel L.]
The water was muddy because of the rain. Since cattle and sheep roamed all over the hill there was all lot of manure and this little pond was made so that the rainwater would drain into it. We strained the water through a clean cloth and then we boiled the it but it still didn't taste like ordinary drinking water. It still had a taste. I and didn't see a single Guardsmen or policeman drinking the water from the pond.
CASE STUDY # 18
[Maria N., fourteen years old. She spoke in English.]
That Monday night if you had to go to the restroom you had to holler GUARD and they would go with you after giving you permission. Only one at a time could go. What I didn't like is that the restrooms, the outhouse, had the door half way off and that three Guardsmen always went out with you. You were using the of the restroom and they would be right there. That wasn't very nice. But there was in no way out of it, they wouldn't let you go by yourself, even if you were a girl.
Most of the cops were Spanish speaking. We would talk to them in Spanish, we always have, and they would use Spanish too. I stayed with these two other girls in their truck and there would be all these Guardsmen passing by all the time. One time these two cops came and lifted the flap to the camper we were in and asked for some lady. I don't know who she was, I had never even heard her name before. We told them she was not here. They asked who we were so we told them all our names. They said "Okay" and left.
The next morning they made as get water from this pond where the sheep and cattle drank. There were little fish in there, fish or tadpoles. The water was sort of greenish, a kind of dirty green, and it didn't taste good, but they wouldn't let us get water from anyplace else.
Tuesday, during the day, they assigned us a little area that we were supposed to play. I was suspicious because they wouldn't let us play the radio. We all wanted to hear what had happened and they refused to tell us why they were holding us so I was very suspicious of the whole thing.
I was very scared every time they changed the guards because they would put their bayonets toward us. But then after standing there for a while they would relax and not point their rifles at us. Then I would stare at first one guard then another. They would get nervous when I stared. They would light a cigarette, throw it away half smoked, they would constantly be changing the gum they were chewing, just acting real nervous. It seemed to me as if they were embarrassed, you know, as if they knew that you don't have to call out the National Guard when some people go on a picnic. They paced up and down, got new gum and cigarettes, they wouldn't even look me in the eyes after a while. I was beginning to think they were pretty good guys, really, underneath all their efforts to play soldier, until they asked us if we wanted a new bathroom. We said OK and then they told us they would dig a hole over to the side of where we were and we could go to the restrooms there. Well, it was right in the open, nobody was going to use it. That wasn't very considerate.
The whole thing got me scared because I wasn't expecting anything. I wasn't expecting policemen or soldiers with bayonets or people taking pictures. Those reporters with their stupid cameras really bugged me. Anything we did they would take pictures of us, making food, playing dodge ball, anything at all. I would put down my head so they couldn't take my picture and then they would kneel down. I would turn around and they would turn around too. I would turn the other way and they would too. I told them "I don't want my picture taken, I won't have it taken. But they didn't care because the State Police and National Guard were there to protect them and let them take as many pictures as they wanted.
One thing they did it with the pictures was at take out the sheep from the corral and take them to drink water from the pond. You see, the owner wasn't there and I guess they wanted to show him that they had taken good care of the sheep by letting them drink water. Well, they took pictures of the sheep going to drink but once the pictures had been taken they ran the sheep back without letting them drink. They didn’t give them any time to drink, just enough time to take pictures.
I’ll bet they gave us their groady C rations so they could take pictures of us so later they could prove they took real good care of us, that they weren't trying to hurt anybody. But we didn't want their groady C rations in the first place and we didn't eat any. Just before they let us go Joe Black himself begged us to take the C rations with us then later on the road home one of his own State cops took one of the boxes away from Fabian, saying. we couldn't take government property. What a bunch of groads.
CASE STUDY # 19
[Gary T., a fifteen year old boy. He spoke English.]
When we had to go get the dumb water, the green one, only one person could go at any time. I am no strong person myself, but I had to carry one of those 5 gallon cans full of water. I got sick from drinking that water.
Those National Guards were something else. They wouldn't help us carry the water. We had to yell GUARD when we got within 20 ft. of them. When we were playing dodge ball sometimes the ball would run off in their direction. We didn't do it on purpose, the ball gets away sometimes during a game. But they'd get all mad and warned of us not to do it again, as if they were going to be attacked or something. They acted real tough with their helmets and rifles and bayonets but one time when they took the sheep out there was a group of four little goats that didn't get back in the corral. There were three Guardsmen over there making their camp where the little goats were running. The guards seemed as if they were going to run away if the little goats charged at them. We asked them, some of us boys, we asked them if they wanted us to put those kids back in the corral. I could see they got kinda got ticked off. They said no, that they would manage, but they were scared of those little goats!
CASE STUDY # 12 [Continued: Ambrosio U.]
I went to talk to some of the other people in the group. We wanted to turn on a radio so we could find out what was happening but we were ordered that turning on any radio was strictly prohibited for some I-don't-know-what reason. They started asking more questions. More National Guardsmen arrived. These new guys had bayonets on their rifles. I don't know what they were prepared for, some great big war maybe. National Guardsmen for a picnic! I would have laughed if I had been seeing it on television. Bayonets. The only thing they didn't have was tanks.
Some reporters arrived when we were eating. They started taking pictures of everybody. We told them we didn't want our pictures taken but they took them anyway. I had half a mind to take their cameras away but I was a bit outnumbered.
As I look at it now, what bothered me the most was that I didn’t know what had happened. You’d think SOMEBODY would have explained but nobody did. To this day I don't understand why somebody didn't take the trouble to inform us on why we were surrounded by police and guards, why we were being held. Even the corral and the garage and the green drinking water didn't bother me as much as being surrounded by armed men, thinking that any minute someone might shoot somebody for some unexpected step or action. They knew we couldn't defend ourselves, they knew we didn't have any guns. I'd guess they knew they didn't have to tell us anything either.
Tuesday afternoon the Guards’ rifles didn’t seem to be pointed at us as much as toward the ground. They even brought us boxes of C Rations and said, “Here, this is for you all. Distribute them among all of you and eat all you want. And if you want more we'll bring more.”
They had broken the law and they knew it so now they were trying to buy us off. They come and keep you under rifle and bayonet for a whole day and then call it even when they give you some C Rations. You could tell they were embarrassed, but no, they couldn't admit they had made a bad mistake, the Law never makes mistakes. We told them we didn't want their lousy C Rations, we just left them there where they put them.
At about 5:00 that Tuesday afternoon they suddenly told us we were free to go. Just like that. Not a single “Sorry, wrong group,” not “Sorry about this, you know how it is.” They didn't say, “You Americans are free to go.” They didn't say, “You Spanish Americans are free to go.” They didn't even say, “You communists are free to go.” Just, you’re free to go.
I get angry now but at the time we were so jubilant that we threw everything in our cars and trucks. We didn't pack anything, we just shoved everything in before the State Police changed their mind again. I wanted to get home and listen to the news to find out what the Sam Hill had happened. I thought maybe we might have gone to war with Germany or Russia or something like that. Then somebody said we could take the C Rations with us. I told him I didn't want them but the guy begged so much and I was in no mood to argue so I threw them in with the other gear so they wouldn't keep us there anymore.
As we drove down the road the State Police had a roadblock. They searched the entire car and took the C Rations saying, “You can't confiscate government property,” or something like that, I don't know exactly. I’ll bet they could have arrested us for stealing some Rations if they had wanted to.
At the entrance to Canjilón I saw all the big convoy for the first time. When I saw those two great big tanks, their cannons pointing toward the mountains. . . I don't know how to express that. HIJO, those guys were ready for a big war that was going to last for months! They had those tanks of water, and for gasoline, a regular big convoy. I was in the service during the war, I fought the Germans in France and Germany. I saw service in Italy and Czechoslovakia too so I know a convoy when see one. I thought about the little pocket knife they had found back in camp when I saw the cannons on the tanks. I got the hell out of there as fast as I could.
CASE STUDY # 10 [Continued: Roberto J., a Guardsman]
We moved out at the designated time and were told that our specific rendezvous point would be El Rito. Just before arriving at El Rito we were issued our ammunition: we had M-1 ammunition only, eight rounds per man. We were instructed NOT to fire our weapons at anything or anybody unless we were first fired upon. It was also made crystal clear that if anybody was fired upon we were to return the fire only in such a way as to disable the other person or persons shooting at us. Only as an absolute last resort were we to shoot to kill. We were told that they didn’t want anybody hurt or killed, but if the Guard was absolutely certain his particular life was in danger he was to shoot to kill. These were the orders from higher headquarters.
We made our base camp five miles on the other side of El Rito, right at the foot of the mountains. It was June 6. I believe it was about six in the morning when we finished making camp. In my particular group there were sixty men. We were sent out in teams of six Guardsmen for each of the five jeeps. The men who marched into the mountains were in groups of ten. The remaining men were placed on local security duty around our camp.
I happened to be one of the Guards in a jeep. We patrolled the mountain roads that were anywhere close to being passable. We encountered five or six vehicles. We stopped them, checked their identification, and allowed them to continue on their way since everything was in order.
At the town of El Rito I knew there was a blockade where everyone going into or coming out of the mountains was searched for weapons. To the best of my knowledge not one single weapon was discovered in our area. On that first day, June 6, we found no weapons on the people we met and we drew no fire from anyone.
The second day we were there we went through the mountains with the Forest Rangers. The Rangers had a pickup in which we put four Guards plus a jeep following. We went through all the roads they showed us and searched all the cabins we found. None of the cabins had any people in them nor did we see any weapons. This is how we spent the whole day, except for noon when we returned to our camp to chow down. At the end of the day we returned to camp. On the morning of June 8 our convoy returned us to Albuquerque.
I have nothing but admiration for our group of Guardsmen at the El Rito station. Looking back at the whole situation now I can honestly say that what I saw was nothing but beautiful scenery. I saw a deer or two. Mother Nature without the bombardments of civilization. But at the time we couldn’t appreciate the outing. It had rained hard the day before we arrived so the roads were extremely muddy. But the spirit of the men wasn’t dampened.
The men knew they were risking their lives, that they were sitting ducks for anyone who wanted to use them as targets. They didn’t want to be shot at, naturally, but neither did they want to hurt somebody in return. I was hoping we wouldn’t meet anyone foolish enough to shoot at us because the fire would be returned immediately. If they did shoot we all understood they would have the advantage of surprise. I was worried that some of the men would get hurt and in turn we would have to kill somebody.
The men were above average in taking commands. They were willing to go out and look in cabins, knowing that with the next door they opened somebody could be waiting, looking at us down a rifle barrel. They went around these cabins quietly, they looked inside the windows. They knew they had specific orders to follow: don’t shoot unless somebody shoots at you. I think this worried the men more than anything else. It’s a difficult order to give and even more difficult to stick to, but the men did it as I knew they would. I kind of think the men would have been more at ease if somebody had shot a them, thus breaking the fearful silence, the nervous, anxious time before a bullet sends you sprawling to the ground. We didn’t know who our enemy was, we didn’t even know if an enemy was anywhere in the vicinity. For my part, I’m glad it turned out that there wasn’t anybody around. Killing isn’t for civilized people, it isn’t done like taking a Sunday drive.
When we pulled out of the area we had turned in our ammo. We knew the episode was over. The television people were there taking pictures of the convoy pulling out. The men didn’t care for the picture taking, for some reason. I think we all experienced mixed emotions of relief, embarrassment, patriotism, making a spectacle of ourselves, everything churned together. Counting officers we were about sixty-five men in our group. We hadn’t found anybody, we hadn’t even seen anybody except a couple of picnickers. Sort of loaded for bear and not even find jackrabbits, you see, an M-1 against a camper’s frying pan.
But basically we were relieved it was all over. On the road back to Albuquerque somebody said, “We went through the mountains looking for those guys while all the time I’ll bet they were home watching the whole thing on teevee.”
CASE STUDY # 6 [[Continued: Dolores V.]
The next morning, Tuesday, they asked me more and basically the same questions. Most of the cops were Spanish. They put them to do the dirty work and they themselves think they’re doing something for justice. Their favorite question was “Where is Reies Tijerina?” and I always replied “I don’t know.”
When my aunt and uncle came to pick up my baby they asked the cops what the charges were against me. They said “Kidnapping and murder.” So they wouldn’t let me go. I stayed there in that dump of a jail for about two days. Man, what a dump. Dirty, you can’t imagine! Filthy towels all over, the sheets had been written on through the grime, at least a year’s worth of grime at that…what filth! And those stupid cops told me I could take a shower if I wanted…with all those men around! The restroom…oh my Lord! The only thing I could compare it to is one of those rickety outhouses that was abandoned ten years ago.
I refused to eat while I was in jail. The way they had that cell I can just imagine what the kitchen must have been like. I didn’t eat.
My uncle called and told that lamebrain that he would pay any bond necessary to get me out of jail. My uncle was told there wasn’t any bond, that I had to stay where I was, that they couldn’t let me go. “If she gets sick or if anything happens to my niece while she’s in jail you’ll never hear the last of it,” my uncle told him.
“We have a lot of sick people here, we can’t worry about it,” they told him.
“I’ll be down with the lawyer,” my uncle told him, “then let’s see how big you talk.” The man hung up on my uncle. But a few hours later they called him back and informed him that they were going to release me but only because they had learned I was regnant. All the charges were dropped. I guess you’re not a criminal if you’re pregnant. If my uncle hadn’t stood up to fight for me I’d still be in that filthy Santa Fe jail and I know it. That’s the way the law works: they take advantage of anyone who can’t afford to buy a lawyer. If you don’t have any money you can just suffer it out.
Just before they let me go, although I didn’t know I was going to be let loose at the time, they took me in for questioning again. No, there wasn’t a woman present this time either. There was a cop and this man sitting over in a corner, a guy who turned out to be a reporter. I thought he was another policeman because he would ask me questions too, just like the other man, and he’d write down everything I said.
They’d keep asking me stupid questions like “What do you think the people of northern New Mexico are going to do?” Are they going to take the law into their own hands? Where is Tijerina? I wish you’d tell us because we’re just trying to find him for his own good.”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think the people are going to riot?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “but you’re not dealing just with Reies anymore, you’re going to have to contend with the while country now.” He didn’t say anything but I could tell he was boiling mad.
“Is Tijerina a communist?”
“What do you call a communist? If someone tells the truth do you call him a communist? The trouble with you and the forces you represent is that you don’t like to hear the truth because it costs you money,” I told him.
Then, Just for variety, I guess, they’d make their questions even more stupid like, “Don’t you think Tijerina is too old for his young wife?”
I said: “What does age have to do with kidnapping and murder charges?”
“Does Tijerina have guns and ammunition hidden some place?”
I could tell the cops were really scared about the people getting out of hand. I guess once great numbers of people go against the law there isn’t much to do except change it or at least investigate it. Here in New Mexico the people with the money don’t want any investigation as to how they got title to their lands, they don’t want this brought out in the open.
“Where is Tijerina? I wish you’d tell us, we’re trying to catch him for his own good.” Then we’d start all over again.
I heard later that this reporter, he was from an Albuquerque newspaper, had told the girl at the desk outside that he was a lawyer. He just went in there and took down everything I said and later the article came out in the paper. If my husband wants to sue him we will, It’s up to him.
All the charges were dropped as easily as they had been thrown against me. The law sure can be manipulated, that’s all I’ve got to say. A few days later some detectives came by the house saying they wanted to talk to me. My uncle asked to see their warrant, the men said they didn’t have one. “I’m not going to let you in this house without a warrant. Furthermore, I have a doctor’s statement saying she shouldn’t be bothered.”
“We just want to ask her a few questions.”
“Go get a warrant and you’ll get into the house, not before.”
They got mad and left and never came back.
CASE STUDY # 17 (Continued: Carmela D.)
The next morning, Tuesday, June 6, I decided to call the State Police. I thought that surely if they were being held, my kids and all of the other people, there must be some information at police headquarters. I was extremely harried because the weather report said it had rained during the night. I called the State Police but they told me they had no report whatever, that they didn't know if my children were in Canjilón or not. They said they would call me back the minute they learned something but I guess they never learned anything because they never returned my call.
The radio blared out that because of a new road block no one could get in or out of the Canjilón and Coyote area. I couldn’t go out to see about my children because they wouldn't let me in. I was at my wit's end! Then I thought that since my children were juveniles the Juvenile Department in Santa Fe would have information on them, not the State Police. So I called them but they told me the same thing: they had no idea where my children were, that they had no record of charges or custody. So then I called Benny Naranjo, the sheriff from Española. I talked to his Mrs. and she told me that Mr. Naranjo was very busy because of the happenings at Tierra Amarilla but that she would have him call me at the first opportunity.
Nobody knew anything about my children, they wouldn't let me go into the area to find them myself, so all I could do was listen to the news bulletins and hope and not hope that I would hear something about them. Tuesday afternoon at around 6:30 or 7:00 I was talking on the phone when I heard some of the neighborhood children saying that my kids were arriving. I threw the telephone aside and burst out of the house. Thank God they were safe! I kept asking them why they had been held but all they could say was “I don't know why, nobody ever told us.”
Protective custody? That's what the State Police call it when they stampede over your liberties. That's what they call it when they make you put your hands on your head, search you, keep rifles and bayonets on you for hours, and then find out you really were on a picnic. Just a little more practice and we'll be able to show the Gestapo a few tricks. (And if this is ever published I'll bet they try to get me for something.)
CASE STUDY # 14 (Continued: Gabriel L.)
When we were set free we tried to go home immediately. There were State Police stopping people at various points along the road. When we were on the road our station wagon was missing so a little ways out of Española I stopped to see what I could do. Two policemen drove up, drew their guns and trained them on us. They ordered my wife out of the car at the point of a gun and the same with my children. BUENO, they searched us and the station wagon. They decided to let us go. From there we traveled until at about Bernalillo a policeman stopped us to check us out. Everything was all right so we continued along the road.
We had driven for 3 or 4 miles when another police car stopped me again! This time they took my two oldest boys in the police car and they said they were going to take the older girls too. This was too much. My wife put her foot down and I told them they weren’t going to do any such thing. They took all of us back to Bernalillo where they wanted to ask us some questions but I refused to answer because we had had enough. They finally had to let us go and we made it home without any more harassment. The treatment at the hands at the hands of the police was quite bad, extremely rude, and uncalled for. They were so nervous they could have shot somebody for the slightest provocation then they’d make out they were only doing their “duty.”
CASE STUDY # 20
[Mike M., a young man of about nineteen, a student at Highlands University. He spoke in English.]
My father, mother and the five kids in our family were going home after the State Police and National Guard released us from the Canjilón camp. We had just passed the little town of Hernández when two cops made us pull over to the side of the road. The cops got out of their car, guns in hand. I could see their hands shaking as one said, “Get out of that truck!” All of us got out immediately.
“You too!” said the cop.
The family was puzzled because all of us were outside [the truck-camper shell].
“Get out!” repeated the man. Then we noticed what the cop was yelling at. My Dad had taken an extra hat with him and the way the hat happened to be placed it looked like it could be a person wearing a hat.
“I’m not going to tell you again!” said the cop. But the hat didn’t seem to be too worried: it didn’t move. Finally the cop stalked to the back of the camper, gun poised, and learned that the hat was nothing more than a hat. He came back looking a bit sheepish but that didn’t prevent the two cops from searching the entire truck-camper. They kept their guns in hand while they searched. They didn’t find anything so they had to let us go. As we pulled back onto the road my little ten year old brother waved the hat at them.
CASE STUDY # 21
[Dennis I., a very muscular, broad shouldered man of about forty. He spoke English.]
I have had a job with this company for 14 years. I have never had any trouble with anyone there. They have always treated me nice and I have done the same with them. There have never been any arguments or fights. I have always done it right because in all those years nobody ever told me otherwise.
I had begun my two week vacation on June 5, two weeks with pay. I went up to Canjilón for the picnic and barbecue. I also wanted to talk to one of the ranchers up there so I could bring some meat back for my family. I could do what I wanted, I was on a two week vacation and I wasn’t bothering anybody at Canjilón. But then we went through the mess with the State Police and the National Guard. Now mind you, I wasn’t charged with anything, they didn’t hold me any longer than the other people, and I left the place when they told us we were free to go. Nobody stopped me on the way back to Albuquerque, they didn’t bother me like they did some of the other people.
When I got home my wife told me that my boss had come to the house while I had been gone, that he had seen me on the television being held by the police and guards at Canjilón. She told me he wanted to see me the minute I got back. So I went, even if it was my vacation.
When I walked in the first thing he asked me was “Do you belong to the Federal Alliance of Land Grants?”
“Yes.”
“As long as you belong to the Alianza organization you will be helping criminals.”
“Am I a criminal? Can you accuse me?” I asked him.
He said, “This company does not have a job for you as long as you are a member of the Federal Alliance of Land Grants.”
Okay, that was it, I didn’t have a job anymore. But he owed me money for the two week vacation, 88 hours of pay. He paid me for 44, not the 88 he owed me.
So here I am without a job because the State Police and the National Guard held us prisoners at Canjilón, and because I’m a member of the Alianza. I went down to sign up for the unemployment thing. Maybe they’ll find me a job. I wasn’t afraid before I lost my job, I’m not afraid now. I have never made much money but God has never failed me. I swear on the wisdom of God that this story is true just like I told it to you.
I don’t hate my boss, I mean my ex-boss. A lot of people think the Alianza group is a bunch of criminals; he’s just going along with the crowd. The newspapers have always been antagonistic to us because they’re trying to use Tijerina to get Governor Cargo out of office so they print everything bad about us. But we’re not criminals just because we think we’ve been wronged. If people would just investigate and bother to come to one of our meetings they would see for themselves, but it’s easier to believe something bad than something good.
CASE STUDY # 22
[Linda E., sixteen years old, a student.]
I’m a junior at Rio Grande High School in Albuquerque. Since we’re on vacation during the summer we have plenty of time to do things. I happened to have been at the picnic in Canjilón. I was there the whole time that they held us there. They didn’t press any charges against me.
A few days after Canjilón, however, I was still asleep that morning when my mother came into my room, woke me up and told me the State Police had a warrant for my arrest. I got up, dressed, saw the warrant, and didn’t know what to think. I was being charged with “kidnapping, assault on a jail, and attempt to commit a felony.” They didn’t specify what felony.
On the way to Santa Fe the policeman stopped and picked up some lady. She wasn’t a policeman. I think she was some kind of secretary. They didn’t talk to me and I didn’t talk to them during the trip. For some reason I wasn’t the least bit nervous or frightened.
They turned me over to the juvenile authorities there in Santa Fe and I was taken to my “room.” This room had a bed, a chair, a table, and the bathroom. There was a window in the wall and another little window in the door.
I was there for four days and three nights. The whole time I was there nobody asked me any questions. Everybody treated me well. The food was good.
Monday morning about nine my mother, father, and sister came to see me with the lawyer. He asked me a few questions like “Were you at Tierra Amarilla?” I told him that I hadn’t been.
My father and the lawyer went to see the probation officer. They came back about an hour later with the news that I was free to go home. All the charges were dropped. We all had a cup of coffee and came home.
Thinking on it now, what I remember the most was that I was the only girl in the whole place. There were about seven or eight boys who I would guess were about 17 or 18 years old. I also think the whole business of being arrested and charged with kidnapping and assaulting a jail is so ridiculous that you wouldn’t even find this kind of a plot on those silly programs on television. I guess the law thought they were silly too since they dropped all the charges the minute we got a lawyer.
CASE STUDY # 13 (Continued: Rudolfo G.)
I wasn’t bothered on the road home from Canjilón. I was at home on June 6 at about 11:00 at night when the police came to pick me up and place me under arrest. They took me to the City Hall here in Albuquerque, kept me there for about half an hour, then I was taken to the Santa Fe jail. I was there about three nights when they took me to the State Penitentiary.
I was behind bars from June 7 until June 24 when I got out on bond. I am now charged with kidnapping. I was at Canjilón the whole time but they maintain I was in the Tierra Amarilla Courthouse when the trouble broke out. If we are fortunate enough to have money to pay the lawyers I know I will be found innocent because the charge is as phony as a three dollar bill.
The Department of Justice is investigating this whole affair. One of their men talked with me at the penitentiary and I told him this exact same story.
Shootout Perspectives
Hindsight enables us to make observations which might not have been apparent or obvious at the time. The following perspectives are intended as motivation for pursuing further investigation of the Case Studies.
CASE STUDY # 1: [Eduardo M., a gentleman past fifty years of age, quite articulate and self-assured. He spoke in Spanish.]
It would appear the police were determined to “get their man,” in this case, Reies López Tijerina. How “lawful” do the police have to be when on a manhunt? A serious complication here was that no one, not even the police, was accusing Tijerina of any crime. It appears he was being targeted because he was the leader of a gathering which some authorities wanted to prevent.
Where does the constitutional right of freedom to assemble enter into the picture? Was the scheduled Coyote meeting not guaranteed by the American Constitution Bill of Rights? Were the police breaking the law?
CASE STUDY # 2: [Diego R., a tall robust man in his fifties. He was wary and did not wish to record his voice at first.]
Is the case of Diego R. an example of false arrest? If there was no warrant, how could the arrest be legal? Is this situation simply an example of a police state atmosphere?
CASE STUDY # 3: [Damacio R., a young man of about 22 years. An eye witness to many of the events at Tierra Amarilla, he is writing his own story on the whole affair.]
It would appear that only the State Police and FBI personnel were armed. Being a “communist” was apparently a handy charge due to the national situation with the Soviet Union.
CASE STUDY # 4: [Tomás C., a passionate man in his fifties, a person who seem to be strong willed and determined. He spoke in staccato, fiery Spanish.]
The police were doing their utmost to prevent the people from meeting. The fact that no laws had been broken must be emphasized. If this impression is accurate then the police were behaving contrary to the law. It would be interesting to investigate as to who gave the order to prevent the Coyote meeting. Was it the District Attorney? The State Police Chief? The Governor?
CASE STUDY # 5: [Arsenio D., a short, stocky, articulate man in his early 50's. He related his story in Spanish.]
Up to this point there can be little doubt that the major players thus far are policemen.
CASE STUDY # 6: [Dolores V., an attractive young mother of about twenty years. She spoke English and at times in Spanish.]
The policemen evidently believed something violent was going to happen so they relied on their guns. They behaved as if they were dealing with violent individuals, even if they were women and children.
Dolores felt the whole thing was one big farce but she realized the gravity of the situation when they took her baby away from her.
Spending time in jail was no picnic. As Dolores testified, the charges were dropped as easily as they had been created.
CASE STUDY # 7: [Alejandro B., a short stocky man in his early 40's. He was still emotionally upset, especially over the incidents concerning his family. He spoke Spanish.]
With gunfire raging in the Tierra Amarilla Courthouse the police now had reason to go on a manhunt. Would there have been any shooting if the people had been allowed to assemble for their planned barbecue?
When Alejandro made it back to camp it would have been very simple to have gotten shot, such was the atmosphere of suspicion. Instead he was tied up like an animal and hauled off to jail.
CASE STUDY # 8: [Cesar R., a very articulate, muscular, bespectacled man in his early forties. He spoke in Spanish.]
There seems to be no evidence that the people giving testimony were armed or looking to break the law. While shots were fired, ordinary people don’t seem to have been privy to the chain of events that led to shootings.
None of the men “wearing black masks” were identified, then or later. Francisco O. and Anastacio F. were the only ones recognized.
There are many stories about La Mano Negra, the Black Hand, a sinister, underworld organization, in northern New Mexico.
CASE STUDY # 9: [Flavio Z., a short, stocky, individualistic man in his early fifties. He spoke in Spanish and English.]
It is quite obvious that the victims in these incidents were unaware of what their rights were. Neither did they have experience in dealing with the law for they were not told about charges except in the most general of ways and they don’t appear to have thought to demand a lawyer. The police could do and did whatever they wanted.
CASE STUDY # 10: [Roberto J., a National Guardsman from Albuquerque. He is a land grant heir himself.]
Only the Governor can call out the National Guard (at the State level).
It would be interesting to uncover the rationale as to why the Guard was deemed necessary. They were equipped for a serious military encounter that would include tanks.
As it turned out, the Guardsmen were players brought in only because of someone’s imagination. The State of New Mexico wasn’t at risk, at least not due to “raiders.”
CASE STUDY # 11: [Juan C., outwardly calm and self-possessed, but fiery when aroused. A rancher in northern New Mexico, he is about fifty or so. He spoke in Spanish.]
The police continue to be the principal players. Citizens aren’t feared by the police.
CASE STUDY # 12: [Ambrosio U---, a broad shouldered mustachioed man of about forty. A WW II veteran, he spoke in Spanish.]
The pattern of citizens on a barbecue/picnic remains constant.
Ambrosio and the others were kept behind a barbed wire fence then later in a garage. This was later to be called “protective custody.”
The group was being held for reasons to which they were not privy. What are the legal ramifications of this situation in a free country like the USA.?
There was no subsequent investigation to see if anyone became ill due to their imprisonment.
The people at the time were so elated to be free they didn’t realize they had been victimized.
CASE STUDY # 13: [Rudolfo G.---, a very soft spoken man of about middle age.]
What happens to civil rights when the police have a gun leveled at you?
If you are too poor to hire an attorney to defend you what is the alternative, jail time? What does that say about the American justice system?
CASE STUDY # 14: [Gabriel L.---, rather thin and pale, a man of about forty-five.]
It must be kept in mind that these people had never been charged with anything. But suspicion was certainly in the air and no one was exempt.
Clean water was not provided to those being held by the authorities.
It appears the police were not working in coordinated efforts. Some were treating people like criminals while others learned most people had done nothing wrong.
CASE STUDY # 15: [Elvira L---, mother of three children. She spoke in a very calm manner, in Spanish.]
Women and children were “under suspicion” just like everybody else.
CASE STUDY # 16: [Domingo G., about thirty-eight years old. This man was still angry over the incident he experienced.]
It would appear these incidents took citizens by surprise. How would people living in a police state have reacted?
CASE STUDY # 17: [Carmela D., the mother of two children incarcerated at the Canjilón camp. She spoke in both languages.]
Strong family ties are apparent. Is there also resignation to forces stronger than one’s authority?
Would the various families have respect for the law in future?
CASE STUDY # 18: [Maria N., fourteen years old. She spoke in English.]
Everyone resented having their pictures taken but it was done anyway.
It would appear the Guardsmen and police were buzzing around the young females.
CASE STUDY # 19: [Gary T., a fifteen year old boy. He spoke English.]
What kind of respect/disrespect would all these incidents engender in the young people involved?
CASE STUDY # 20: [Mike M., a young man of about nineteen, a student at Highlands University. He spoke in English.]
Police were taking no chances. How did mistrust or suspicion become so enormous? Has it always been there?
CASE STUDY # 21: [Dennis I., a very muscular, broad shouldered man of about forty. He spoke English.]
It is a most serious punishment to lose one’s job. What was done about it?
CASE STUDY # 22: [Linda E., sixteen years old, a student.]
What is the nature of democracy if you are charged with a supposed crime but all charges are dropped when you hire a lawyer?
SUMMATION
The basic characteristic of New Mexican history since the American takeover in 1846 is the land swindles perpetrated by American authorities like government officials, judges, and lawyers. The swindles have been written about but never publicized. To this day, no book has been written on the Santa Fe Ring, the loose arrangement of influential or powerful people running Territorial government for their benefit from 1850 to around 1912.
The incidents that transpired at Tierra Amarilla on or around June 5, 1967, made headlines around the nation. Gunshots always attract the media and reporters poured into northern New Mexico expecting an attention-getting story. As it turned out, some nineteen individuals, described by some as raiders, became the objects of a manhunt. One individual “raider” was described as vowing that no one would take him alive. Despite the efforts of police and National Guards, none were caught until they turned themselves in. The individual portrayed as particularly violent had his mother turn him in to authorities in order to collect the reward offered for his capture.
The real story, that of land swindles perpetrated on an unsuspecting populace, was hardly touched upon by most reporters. The swindles have been mostly ignored to this day but they are a part of documented history and at some time in the future they will out for the world to understand.
The Tierra Amarilla story actually became
one of government authorities trampling on ordinary people’s civil rights
and there appears to have been no market for something of that nature
because reporters didn’t publicize it. It must also be observed that the
victims themselves didn’t file lawsuits against the State Police, the
National Guard, or the State of New Mexico, whom they say victimized them.
Do the victims understand the real workings of American democracy?
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