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The Life and Times of don David del Hacienda de los Pelicanos

8 mins read

By David Taub

Attorney No. 3 (A3) quickly developed and implemented his Mexican secret plan, otherwise known as “Silent and Swift.” Apropos of Mexican Axiom No. 1, “Nothing ever happens quickly in Mexico,” it was four frustrating months later when A3 called David and asked, “How quickly can you get to Merida?”

David told him that personal issues prevented him from departing for at least a month. But this unforeseen delay allowed David to get his second Covid-19 vaccination. Bullet proof.

Thereafter, David headed to Merida post haste: Savannah to Miami, Miami to Merida, on March 1. David had absolutely no idea of Plan A details, or when and how it would be implemented. He did know that his physical presence was required in situ.

Don David arrived in Merida about noon; it was 95 degrees, which required a quick change into shorts and a T-shirt, regular attire for the duration. Later, A3 joined don David to discuss Plan A.

Don David was stunned when A3 told him to be outside his friends’ house at 5 a.m. the next morning, with all his luggage in hand; that was all. It was a long night of anticipation, anxiety, and excitement. Several very cold Yucatan-brewed beers eased the transition to a new reality.

Promptly at 5 a.m. the next morning, A3 arrived in an air-conditioned rental SUV. First stop was to pick-up another attorney, part of A3’s coterie of legal beagles. Little did don David realize, his as yet unseen “army” would consist of four attorneys, plus many other “supporters.”

The drive to the outskirts of La Hacienda de los Pelicanos took about an hour. The sun was rising gently from the east as they headed south. They stopped at the nearest village to the hacienda. And waited.

Don David asked no questions. A large pickup truck pulled up, filled with rough-looking “hombres” in the truck bed, and multiple bodies packed tightly in the double cab. The hacienda’s loyal gardener also arrived with several villagers in tow (each man carrying traditional machetes). Last to arrive, in two large police trucks, was the Chief of Police and three officers.

The gardener, Fernando, had been spying on Los Bastardos’ business activities at the hacienda, and had advised A3 that an early morning arrival would be best, as the hacienda would be virtually empty. Alas, not so!

A3’s carefully constructed “tribe” pulled into the hacienda at 7:30 a.m., greeted by half-dozen cars parked everywhere and lots of folks milling around. Every member of the “army” had a preassigned task to perform, and they took to it with enthusiasm and vigor.

The blacksmith cut off all the locks and installed new ones with heavy chains. The legion of attorneys went from table to table, and room to room, explaining to the visitors why they had to leave immediately, showing everyone an official copy of don David’s deed verifying that he was the real and only owner; turned out that Los Bastardos had told everyone that they were the owners. Bad career move.

The visitors asked plaintively, “Can we finish our breakfast?”

“Of course,” they were told.

Within a half hour, all tourists had packed-up and swiftly departed, greatly relieved that this invasion of rabble was not part of a local drug cartel operation.

The lawyers then engaged every employee of Jazabel’s, especially the two ladies who managed the kitchen. They were told that don David, the true owner of the hacienda, had arrived and they were no longer needed, were to depart immediately, and not to return.

Maria, the senior staffer who was very loyal to Jazabel (who had lent Maria lots of pesos in the past) immediately called Jazabel to tell her that don David had arrived and “an army of angry hombres” was chasing everyone off the hacienda grounds.

Her feet were frozen to the kitchen floor; Maria foolishly put her phone on speaker mode. The kitchen was filled with police and lawyers. Jazabel screamed over and over to Maria, “DO NOT LEAVE THE HACIENDA GROUNDS!”

The police laughed and after a few minutes of Maria’s continued reluctance to depart, they unceremoniously escorted her out the front gate. By 9:45 a.m., everyone had been sent away. Guards with fierce appearances took up positions at each of the hacienda’s entrances. After barely two hours, the hacienda was now totally and rightfully in don David’s possession. The illegal squatters were in the rearview mirror.

The guards erected three large banners that A3 had made, noting, in Spanish and English, that this hacienda was “private property” and trespassing was prohibited. Since that day, only invitees entered the hacienda grounds; no former employee of Jazabel’s was invited.

The lawyers and a few guards escorted don David into the master bedroom of the Casa Principal, and locked him inside, for his own protection, they explained. No one knew what Los Bastardos might do, so protection of don David was high priority. They were paid well; no extra body-bags were in the “army’s” truck bed. It only took about an hour to find out what Los Bastardos would do next.

Dog-gone word limits. Stay tuned for Chapter 3.

“Well, all I know is what I read in the newspapers.” – Will Rogers. 

“Well, all I know is what I read in the newspapers.” – Will Rogers. 

David M. Taub was Mayor of Beaufort from 1990 through 1999 and served as a Beaufort County Magistrate from 2010 to 2015. You can reach him at david.m.taub42@gmail.com.

David M. Taub was Mayor of Beaufort from 1990 through 1999 and served as a Beaufort County Magistrate from 2010 to 2015. You can reach him at david.m.taub42@gmail.com.

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