PART 1
“If you want to stay alive, don’t go home tonight.”
That’s what the officer told me, looking at me as if he’d just seen my death certificate, not a simple traffic ticket.
My wife, Mariana, had pulled the SUV over on the Mexico-Querétaro highway with a calmness that, at the time, seemed normal to me. We were headed to San Juan del Río to have lunch at her mother’s house. It was Saturday, hot, and the traffic was heavy. The officer stopped us because Mariana was going 138 in a 110 zone. She slowed down, smiled with that confidence she always had, and handed him her license.