The Citation Encore began its decent while Joe Doorley, my Supervisor, and I discussed the next phase of the operation. The plan was to land, taxi, refuel and wait for the arrest team on the ground to join us. Best case scenario would have them showing up with Michael Alfonso, our FBI Top Ten Most Wanted Fugitive, in handcuffs. We’d then fly back to Chicago where he would face justice for three outstanding homicides. The worst case, the arrest team would show up empty handed. It was June 2003, and Alfonzo had been on the run since 2001.
Several military trucks loaded with armed soldiers followed us as we taxied toward the fuel pumps. The tower instructed the pilots to stop short of the fuel station and the trucks took positions around our plane. Soldiers piled out of the trucks with some taking kneeling positions, while others remained standing –but all had their guns pointed at the plane.
Joe asked the pilot what was happening, but they had no answers. Joe asked me, the only Spanish speaker on board, to go out and talk to whomever was in charge. As the door lowered, he reminded me that we had guns and handcuffs in the plane, and no one would be allowed into the Citation. The pilots chimed in advising that the plane was sovereign US property.
I walked down the few steps onto the tarmac, and an officer approached. He introduced himself as “Teniente Garcia.” I shook the Lieutenant’s hand and introduced myself and the purpose of our visit. He advised me that we had landed at “Guatemala’s Zona Militar Numero 6.” I relayed the information through the door to the pilots and they replied that their filed-and-approved flight plan included this airport.
I translated this information to the Lieutenant, who didn’t seem convinced, but asked me to wait while he spoke to his superiors. A few minutes later he returned and handed me a slip of paper. It looked like an invoice with “Q 650” hand written on the bottom line. Lt. Garcia explained that he had obtained approval for our refueling requirements, and that we could wait for our arrest team, but due to the late notification, he regretted that we were being fined 650 quetzals.
I nodded knowingly and told the Lieutenant I would discuss this with my Supervisor. Inside the cabin, Joe, who now had his Glock out, as did the pilots, just shook his head and smiled when I told him we were being “fined” 650 bucks.
Joe asked how much cash I had on me. I told him about a hundred. He said he had about four hundred and the pilots, between the two of them had about thirty (typical).
Then one of the pilots asked to see the note. He pulled out a calculator (again, typical) and crunched some numbers. He looked at Joe and me with a grin. He explained at the current exchange rate 650 quetzals was about eighty US dollars.
We all began laughing as a tense situation had now become comical. Joe handed me a one hundred dollar bill and told me to tell the Lieutenant to “Keep the change.”
Lt. Garcia couldn’t have been happier. After we parked the plane, he invited Joe and me for a drink in the Officer’s Club. The arrest team arrived later that afternoon, empty handed and we headed back to ORD.
Author’s Note: About six months later I appeared on a Mexican TV show, similar to America’s Most Wanted. In July 2004, a tip came into the US Embassy and Alfonso was arrested while sitting in a Vera Cruz barber chair. He’s serving life without parole. Joe passed away last June. This was one of his favorite stories to tell over a few beers.
