376
JUAN FRANCISCO BLANCO
“Okay folks, you’re all under arrest. We’ll just have to go see
what my uncle, the judge, has to say.”
“We can’t go to jail!” Jonathan who had run up behind
Bardala said in a loud voice, “We’re just kids!”
“Well, I guess we could just check your name in our driver’s
license database. What’s your name?”
“Tital Almanza.”
“Your date of birth?”
“June 21, 1993.”
“Look! Look! Here’s a copy of Tital’s driver’s license in with
the truck title and other papers. Can you use that?” Ronú said
when he discovered the copy.
“That makes everything easy; it has your number on the copy.
All I have to do is enter the numbers, let’s see, 631433629.” The
officer entered the numbers in his handheld computer and up
popped Tital’s face.
“Looks like my uncle’s jail is going to be empty tonight. My
cousin’s going to be sad, too. He impounds all the cars and
trucks. I would turn your trucks around and go back to find your
original driver’s license. You sure don’t want to see my brother
who patrols just down the road to stop you. He’s not nice like I
am. You folks have a nice day. I’ll help you get turned around.”
The officer turned on his blue lights, and allowed the two trucks
to turn around, and head back east.
“I hope we can find your license. Could Brilloso find it in the
grass?” Jonathan radioed.
“He better find it,” Tital muttered.
Fifteen minutes later, Tital pulled into the same rest area
where they parked before. There was only one old, two-ton Ford
truck sitting right where they had been parked.