Hasidim are the most conservative of the Jewish Orthodoxy, how is it you’re driving a car on the Sabbath?”
He inhaled and then took a very long time to look me in the eye. “Excuse me?”
“It’s Saturday, Mr. Aaron, and even I know that it’s forbidden. As one of the thirty-nine types of work the Torah prohibits on the Sabbath, isn’t starting a car a form of lighting a fire? I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but you hit the ignition, the engine burns the fuel . . .”
His mouth moved and finally something came out. “Oh, my . . . Umm. We’ve been traveling, and we must’ve lost track of the days.” He reached down and turned off the ignition. “Thank you for reminding us.”
“I know that some Orthodox and Reform Jews drive on the Sabbath for specific purposes such as going to synagogue, but the nearest ones are down in Cheyenne and up in Billings, and since you said, numerous times, that you were going to the Black Hills today . . .”
He cleared his throat and mumbled something unintelligible.
I reached in across the steering wheel, pulled the keys, and stuffed them in my jacket pocket to keep my hands free. “Also, not only does this happen to be a Saturday and the Sabbath, but it’s also Rosh Hashanah.”
His eyes grew very wide.
“Happy New Year, Mr. Aaron, it’s the start of the high holidays.” I adjusted my Ray-Bans and placed the web of my thumb onto the hammer of my .45 Colt. “The Day of Judgment is to come.”
I glanced back and watched as Saizarbitoria stepped from his unit and, walking behind their trailer, came up on the passenger side. “In all honesty, I probably wouldn’t have noticed myself, but it was on a holiday calendar up at the high school where I was doing a DARE talk with some of the wayward students who had to come in for detention on a Saturday. DARE is the Drug Abuse Resistance Education program; I’m not sure if it does a lot of good, but it gives me a chance to go in and talk to the kids and maybe convince them that there are better ways to spend their time.”
He didn’t move.
“Rosh Hashanah is the pronouncement of the Day of Judgment as I recall, but it’s not final until Yom Kippur, so you get ten days to alter your behavior, correct?”
“Um, yes.”
I moved back, pulled the handle on his door, and swung it wide. “How about stepping out here with me for a moment?”
Sitting there with his seat belt still attached, I guess he was gauging his options, but there really wasn’t any way out. Slowly, he unfastened the belt and turned, sliding from the vehicle as the man in the passenger seat reached down for something in the glove compartment.
Sancho’s Beretta .40 lodged behind Joseph’s right ear, his voice as cool and calm as a loaded number 6 bear trap. “Sheriff’s department—don’t you move.”
I walked the driver back to the U-Haul and thumped a forefinger on Buffalo Bill’s studded chest. “You see this extra set of sheet-metal screws up near the bulkhead, Mr. Aaron?”
He nodded his head and then dropped it to study his shoes.
“There’s no paint on them, which leads me to believe that they were added after the others, possibly to provide a hidden cavity within the trailer.” I stepped back and measured the cargo space with my eyes. “Now, I’m guessing, but from the dimensions, I’d say it’s probably close to two hundred pounds of marijuana in there, which means you and your friends are facing felony charges of possession of a controlled substance, possession of a controlled substance with intent to deliver, and conspiracy with intent to deliver a controlled substance to the tune of well over a million dollars street value.”
The Basquo brought the other men around the van and had them leaning against the side with their fingers laced behind their heads and their legs spread wide, a Glock 19 with rubber bands wrapped around the handle lodged in the back of his duty belt.
I turned the driver toward the
He inhaled and then took a very long time to look me in the eye. “Excuse me?”
“It’s Saturday, Mr. Aaron, and even I know that it’s forbidden. As one of the thirty-nine types of work the Torah prohibits on the Sabbath, isn’t starting a car a form of lighting a fire? I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but you hit the ignition, the engine burns the fuel . . .”
His mouth moved and finally something came out. “Oh, my . . . Umm. We’ve been traveling, and we must’ve lost track of the days.” He reached down and turned off the ignition. “Thank you for reminding us.”
“I know that some Orthodox and Reform Jews drive on the Sabbath for specific purposes such as going to synagogue, but the nearest ones are down in Cheyenne and up in Billings, and since you said, numerous times, that you were going to the Black Hills today . . .”
He cleared his throat and mumbled something unintelligible.
I reached in across the steering wheel, pulled the keys, and stuffed them in my jacket pocket to keep my hands free. “Also, not only does this happen to be a Saturday and the Sabbath, but it’s also Rosh Hashanah.”
His eyes grew very wide.
“Happy New Year, Mr. Aaron, it’s the start of the high holidays.” I adjusted my Ray-Bans and placed the web of my thumb onto the hammer of my .45 Colt. “The Day of Judgment is to come.”
I glanced back and watched as Saizarbitoria stepped from his unit and, walking behind their trailer, came up on the passenger side. “In all honesty, I probably wouldn’t have noticed myself, but it was on a holiday calendar up at the high school where I was doing a DARE talk with some of the wayward students who had to come in for detention on a Saturday. DARE is the Drug Abuse Resistance Education program; I’m not sure if it does a lot of good, but it gives me a chance to go in and talk to the kids and maybe convince them that there are better ways to spend their time.”
He didn’t move.
“Rosh Hashanah is the pronouncement of the Day of Judgment as I recall, but it’s not final until Yom Kippur, so you get ten days to alter your behavior, correct?”
“Um, yes.”
I moved back, pulled the handle on his door, and swung it wide. “How about stepping out here with me for a moment?”
Sitting there with his seat belt still attached, I guess he was gauging his options, but there really wasn’t any way out. Slowly, he unfastened the belt and turned, sliding from the vehicle as the man in the passenger seat reached down for something in the glove compartment.
Sancho’s Beretta .40 lodged behind Joseph’s right ear, his voice as cool and calm as a loaded number 6 bear trap. “Sheriff’s department—don’t you move.”
I walked the driver back to the U-Haul and thumped a forefinger on Buffalo Bill’s studded chest. “You see this extra set of sheet-metal screws up near the bulkhead, Mr. Aaron?”
He nodded his head and then dropped it to study his shoes.
“There’s no paint on them, which leads me to believe that they were added after the others, possibly to provide a hidden cavity within the trailer.” I stepped back and measured the cargo space with my eyes. “Now, I’m guessing, but from the dimensions, I’d say it’s probably close to two hundred pounds of marijuana in there, which means you and your friends are facing felony charges of possession of a controlled substance, possession of a controlled substance with intent to deliver, and conspiracy with intent to deliver a controlled substance to the tune of well over a million dollars street value.”
The Basquo brought the other men around the van and had them leaning against the side with their fingers laced behind their heads and their legs spread wide, a Glock 19 with rubber bands wrapped around the handle lodged in the back of his duty belt.
I turned the driver toward the
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