This happened in May 2007, and was described on the MazInfo news group. It is reprinted here with permission by the author, John Porter. Thank you John.

Part I

Yesterday (Saturday) I set off from our house in Playa Sur headed for the beach with grandson Matthew, age 9 and his mother Tracey. A few blocks from home, at the corner of Aleman and Carnaval, I stopped at the stop sign preparing to turn left (west) on Aleman, waited for a car to go by and then moved out into the median section of the 4-lane divided road. I stopped in the median, as is commonly done in Mazatlan, waiting for a westbound car to go by and just as that car passed, we were struck a terrific blow in the rear of my Chevy van. The van turned 180 degrees and ended up facing back to the south. My immediate fear was for Matthew, who was sitting in the rear seat, but thank goodness nobody was hurt, just shaken a lot. Amazingly, the car was still running and could be moved, so I pulled back across Aleman and parked on Carnaval. Getting out of the car I noticed that my damage was confined to the left panel behind the rear wheel and a dent in the tire rim - nothing too serious. However, looking out on Aleman, the car that hit us seemed to have literally come apart in the road. Pieces were scattered all over the pavement. But the occupants, two young Mexican men, were out walking around and appeared ok. Then the fun began. I found my liability policy in the glove compartment and my first reaction was to call Juan Chong, forgetting that this was Saturday afternoon at 30 and nobody would be in. Then I found the 800 number in the policy and tried to call it on my cell phone, but couldn't get it to ring. At this point a police car had arrived, but so had some assistance for me. I have made the acquaintance of a fine Mexican gentleman, Senor Cortez, who runs a dental supply shop on Carnaval. A few months ago he had been the victim of an attempted robbery by a drug addict who had stabbed him several times with an icepick and I had stopped by afterwards to check on him and express my sympathy. Mr. Cortez had heard the noise of the crash and, seeing me, came up and offered me his shop phone to call the insurance company. The first number was in Guadalajara and they told me to call a second number, also in Guadalajara. My heart started sinking but then at the second number they said somebody would be to me within 30 minutes! I have to admit I didn't believe it at the time, but it was true. Also, a kind neighbor, Kathy (?) had stopped by to see if I needed help (sorry about the last name Kathy, my mind was elsewhere) In the meantime more police had arrived and they were talking to the driver of the other car, who, as I later learned, was claiming I had run the stop sign. So while I was fiddling with insurance, the driver was getting his story on the record. In fact the police never asked me what happened until later at the transito station. A wrecker arrived and towed off the wrecked car and the two guys got into the police car and left. A motorcycle policeman was left and he told me to follow him to the station. I told him that I wanted to take Tracy and Matthew to the house, which was only a few blocks away and also that I wanted to wait for the insurance adjuster. All this was in Spanish but we were communicating and he let me know that he wasn't going to wait long. About the time he was getting ready to make me go or else, the adjuster arrived, after only about 20 minutes from the time I had called. What a relief! It was like seeing the Lone Ranger and the Mounties combined. He also only spoke Spanish - in fact everybody I dealt with except Mr. Cortez spoke only Spanish. My Spanish is serviceable but pretty ugly. Fortunately, I was able to communicate enough to at least keep up with most of what happened during the next couple of hours. The adjuster, Senor Tirado, took charge from that point on. I drove to my house with the policeman in front on his motorcycle and Senor Tirado behind. The neighbors must have either thought I was very important or just being arrested. After letting the family out we then slowly continued our little caravan all the way to the transito office near the Juarez market. At almost every intersection the cop would turn on his lights and stop traffic for us. At the transito I pulled inside the storage yard where the wrecked auto was already resting. We then started doing paperwork and they did an inventory of the contents of my car, so they can't be accused of taking anything I assume. They took my keys but gave me back my driver's license that the motorcycle cop had taken. The car is still there. We were then encouraged to settle the thing, but my adjuster couldn't do much, as the driver was pretty obstinate. The other car was a 1994 Honda and U.S. title had "Salvage" stamped on it. The thing was a wreck before the wreck, but the problem was and is that it is registered to some state agency in Durango. This may or may not cause a problem but who knows why two young guys are in Mazatlan with a junk car registered to a state agency in Durango. We then went to a room in the station with a television showing the Mexico-Iran soccer match. The adjuster had me write out a statement in English for his use. Then we were escorted to what appeared to be booking room, complete with bars and holding cells. At this point I was getting a bit worried, but the main event was a breathalyzer test which apparently the driver of the other car flunked. We were both taken to a medical office right across the hall from the booking area, and when he breathed into the apparatus the Dr. started questioning him about how much he had had to drink and he said only 3 bottles of Pacifico. Of course by this time we were 2 hours after the accident so who knows what his state was earlier. Anyway this seems to be a good thing for our side, but at this point anything can happen. Finally the adjuster gave me a ride back to my house and said a lawyer would call me today (Sunday) and with luck we could get my car back by Tuesday or so. Apparently some kind of trial or proceeding will happen soon. I practiced law for more than 30 years before coming to Mazatlan, but this a whole new ballgame. In fact the lawyer has now called (he also speaks Spanish) and is coming over soon. Stay Tuned!

Part II

The term "Magical Realism" describes an entire school of Latin American literature in which fact and fiction are intertwined and reality cannot be distinguished from dreams. It is not surprising that a Mexican author, Juan Rulfo, is considered to be the originator of this form of writing.

At the end of my last post the attorney for our insurance company was going to come to my house on Sunday. He didn't appear, but telephoned to say he would call me on Monday and then went on in rapid Spanish saying, to the best of my understanding, that things were complicated because I was guilty! I asked him twice to slow down and repeat what he was saying, but I just couldn't understand him. So Monday morning I went to Juan Chong's office, hoping to get a clear idea of what was going on, only to learn that Juan was in Guadalajara until Wednesday. However, his very competent assistant called the attorney. The assistant listened to the attorney, getting a puzzled look on his face, and then asked the attorney to repeat what he had said. Hanging up, he said "that guy is very difficult to understand". Anyway, the police at the scene, who had never talked with me, had apparently reported that I was at fault and under the Mexican system this decision now has to be overturned - it is in effect taken to be true unless, after some further proceedings, a court overrules it. I recollected at this point that the two guys in the other car had gotten into the police car with two investigating officers and ridden to the transito station with them. Did some sort of meaningful interchange take place on the way to the station? Who knows! However, the attorney told Juan's assistant he would call me later Monday to let me know when to come to the office of the Policiá Ministerial. This place is up around Rio Fuerte street between the bus station and Avenida Del Mar. He called about noon and my friend Peter Murphy gave my wife Rose Ann and me a ride over there where I met the lawyer and his assistant for the first time. He was there with another set of clients who had been in a wreck the day before and literally had to leave the hospital in order to come over and protect their rights. The man is a prominent architect and developer from Los Mochis and his wife has a business here in Mazatlan, but they were as confused as we were. Fortunately they spoke English and helped me try to understand what my lawyer was saying. The inside of the Ministerial office was crowded so we all moved out to a shaded tienda on the sidewalk across the street. We remained there for almost 4 hours in the heat, both Rose Ann and I along with the couple from Los Mochis! The lawyer started out by repeating that I had been found at fault. If I wanted to contest the matter, it would take about 3 days to get my car back and we would do the paperwork now. However, if I wanted in effect to plead guilty, I could get the car back now. He seemed to be urging me to admit fault, but this made no sense to me because a guilty plea by me would mean the insurance company, his client, would have to pay the other driver for damages. Why would a lawyer want me to do something that would damage his own client? By the way, the damage to my car is not an issue because I only have liability insurance for damage to others, so I have to repair my own car no matter what happens. I told the attorney that he should talk to the adjuster who had been at the scene of the accident and thought I was not at fault. So the lawyer called the adjuster who apparently told him that it was not my fault. At this point I was getting very confused, so I called Juan Chong's office and told them I needed to talk to Juan even if he was in Guadalajara. They immediately gave me Juan's cell number and I dialed it and Juan answered the phone. I told him that I wanted to cooperate with the insurance company (in fact that's part of the insurance agreement) and wanted his input. He said, "Let me call the adjuster and I will call you back." Within ten minutes Juan was on the phone and said the adjuster thought I was not at fault and we should fight the case. I told him that was my thinking also. He also said he would be in the office Wednesday and I should come by and talk. So, I told the lawyer what Juan had said and, although he appeared to be unhappy about all this, he told his assistant to prepare the necessary papers. We sat there another couple of hours waiting and then the assistant appeared with two pages single-spaced of a "denuncia" to be signed by me. By this time I was not taking anything for granted and so I carefully read the document to make sure I was not pleading guilty or something worse. Fortunately I read Spanish better than I understand it. In the denuncia I am making a claim against the other driver for my damages claiming it was his fault. After going over this document I signed it and then the assistant led us to another building, stopping on the way to make copies. The other building was about a block away and housed the Poder Judicial del Estado, the judicial power of the State. So we had gone from the police over to the judicial arm. There we waited about 30 minutes outside an office of the state prosecutor (procuradaria). We than sat down with a nice lady who asked a number of basic questions such as name, occupation, age, etc. and then took copies and the originals of my car title and permiso. The resulting document was essentially a verification under seal of the allegations in the Denuncia. I signed this document and had to put my thumbprint in purple ink on each page. The clerk than stamped everything. The whole thing will apparently be delivered back to the Policia Ministerial office and "in two or three days" the lawyer's assistant will call me to go back there and do something else that will result in getting our car back!

I really think it's all just a dream.

Part III

At the conclusion of last week's episode, I had been told that my car would be released in "two or three days". This past Friday, after only a week, I finally "admitted" guilt, managed to get the car back and paid a fine. Tony Soprano and I both survived the week. Juan Chong returned to town on Wednesday and in his polite and gracious manner explained to me that no matter what I thought about my innocence I was up the rio without a paddle. He also explained that my innocence or guilt meant nothing to the insurance company. In effect, all the foreign drivers are in a pool of insurance and an individual's rate won't go up because of claims, although all rates may go up at times. So on Friday when my lawyer called me to return to the Policia Ministerial I was prepared to throw myself on the sword. I spent three hours in the Ministerial office filling out forms and orally giving personal data to a clerk for the third time. I must say that all the public funcionarios that we dealt with during this entire process were unfailingly courteous and polite. Then my lawyer took me over to the Transito Police office where a clerk calculated my fine somehow based on the charges. My total fine came to 1713.60 pesos but I was surprised when I was given a "descuento" of 514.08 pesos so the fine came out at 1199.52. Why a descuento? Who knows and nobody could explain it - perhaps something to do with the Paris Hilton effect. In addition to the fine I paid 199 pesos for storage of the car for a week and 150 pesos for the breath test the other driver and I were given, so the total payment came out to 1548 pesos, a lot less than some speeding fines in the U.S. The fine was paid there in cash and with receipt in hand the lawyer's assistant went with me to get the car, which had been moved in the meantime to a storage facility that was located out behind Venadillo on the northern outskirts of town, just before the cuota road to Culiacan begins. The storage yard was on a dirt road and reminded me of pictures of an elephant graveyard. Hundreds and hundreds of cars were covered with a thick layer of dirt so the colors were almost indistinguishable. The old man in charge managed to find my key from a huge bundle in the office but had no idea where the car was. He and I and the lawyer's assistant spent about 20 minutes walking through ankle-deep sand searching for the car. I was beginning to think we would have to file a claim for a missing car when it suddenly appeared about 50 feet from the office, covered in that mantle of dirt. I drove off. Hasta la vista!

What I have learned:

1. Don't ever drive in Mexico without liability insurance. Keep a copy of the policy in your car and put the telephone numbers in your cell phone.
2. Don't move your car after an accident unless you are able to work out a private deal with the other driver. If you have a camera, take pictures.
3. Make sure you give the police your side of the story. If you can't speak Spanish find somebody who does or at least watch what diagrams the police are drawing and object right there if you don't agree.
4. If you don't speak Spanish get somebody who does to go with you to any meetings or proceedings. Nobody in the system seems to speak much English, so don't try to wing it.
5. Even if you are in the right, don't unnecessarily prolong the agony, just bite the bullet and pay up.

John Porter