At the Ready

"McGauley is a young man," chimed in Parmley, at that time still president of his chapter. "He's out to more or less kind of prove himself. That's the way young people are, so we prefer to have more mature people who understand the reasons for discipline."

McGauley says Simcox didn't treat his volunteers with respect in Arizona, another reason he decided to form his own group. And he says the Texas Minuteman LLC will do federal background checks, paid for out of his own pocket. He admits, however, that he's let his access to the database expire and must wait to regain clearance before he can start vetting others.

Come October, his group will head for the border, primarily between Laredo and El Paso, setting up quasi-military outposts on land owned by ranchers who've given them permission to patrol. Their goal, they claim, is to observe and report, and generate a bunch of buzz for their cause.

Sal Zamora, a spokesman for U.S. Customs and Border Protection, says his agency's ultimate concern is the safety of anyone who chooses to hang out near the Rio Grande. "The border is a very dangerous area," he says. "Not too long ago, there were two [U.S. border patrol agents] who in essence engaged in gunfire with a group of what we presume to be illegal aliens who were trafficking in drugs. There was an extensive exchange of gunfire in broad daylight… Incidents like that could occur at any given time, at any given place along the border."

"We know how to protect ourselves," says McGauley, "and we will be able to protect ourselves."

U.S. Customs and Border Protection might be tepid in its response to the Minutemen, but not so the Texas chapter of the League of United Latin American Citizens. "The Minutemen are not needed and they're not wanted in Texas," says state LULAC president Roger Rocha. Should someone get shot, be it a migrant, a Minuteman or an innocent bystander, Rocha worries about the potential for a backlash against the Hispanic community. The Minutemen "can claim all they want that they're here just to observe, but you and I know that's not the case," he says. "These people are coming in armed."

Rocha says ranchers can and will be held responsible for any violence towards immigrants: "If they're willing to take on the financial responsibility, that is their decision, but since the Minutemen are already being considered racists, such an action would probably be looked at as a hate crime."

Arturo Sandoval is cruising through a poor neighborhood in Laredo, a few hundred feet from the Rio Grande, when he see three guys walking briskly against traffic on a one-lane road. He makes the block in his white Chevy Tahoe, rolls the wrong way down the street and creeps up behind the three men, who turn and bolt the minute they see he's wearing the green uniform of the U.S. Border Patrol.

The game of cat and mouse has begun, although border patrol agents prefer you not call it that.

Sandoval calls for backup and hits the gas, shooting past the neighborhood's one-story brick and adobe houses, each butted right up to the next. He turns a corner and hops the curb to avoid a police car slowly coming his way. The cop stares and rolls on.

Violence is erupting across the river in Nuevo Laredo, with gangs battling for smuggling routes and city officials getting killed. These three suspects could be drug mules, although they're more likely just economic migrants coming across in search of work. Either way, it's Sandoval's job to track them down.

One suspect splits off from the group and Sandoval goes after the other two, revving his engine while relaying his position on the radio. The two fugitives quickly disappear around a corner, only to pop up a minute later leaning against a wall with a group of people. They sprint at the sight of the Tahoe and turn yet another corner, running smack dab into another border agent, who grabs one of them and wrestles him to the ground for resisting arrest. "Sometimes you don't know who you're encountering when guys don't want to listen to your commands," says Sandoval. "You don't know, first of all, what he has on him."

Sandoval, a Laredo native, says captives sometimes accuse him of selling out his Hispanic heritage; he simply says he has a job to do. He gets on the radio and describes the suspect who split from the group, but that fellow won't be found. He either headed back across the river to try again another day, or to a safe house somewhere in the neighborhood, where he'll save up his energy for the journey north.