The Search

By Miguel Ochoa

A man struggles with his past and sees himself entombed in the body of a criminal. He is tried and found insane despite his protests. He is offered help in recovering his true self. This novel is about his desperate search for vindication. Was he hiding something from himself that impeded his recovery? Was he looking in the right direction and for the right culprit? Did he ever achieve reconciliation? In the end, there is a surprising answer. This novel is about the dangers of self-denial.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jun 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532077869

Miguel Ochoa

Born in Cuba the author is a retired pathologist. He has published extensively both in English and Spanish. Among his previous publications are: Letters to Arthur, The Salamana tree, Ironies and El Ultimo Aldabonazo. His wife Josefina and him have three children and four grandchildren. He presently live in Chicago. Illinois,

Book preview

Copyright © 2019 Miguel Ochoa.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

iUniverse

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.iuniverse.com

1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-5320-7785-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-7786-9 (e)

iUniverse rev. date:  06/28/2019

To my wife

Josefina whose encouragement and help through the years had been invaluable.

30968.png

‘B e

sure you packed everything you need.’

‘Yes, Mom,’ I responded sighing deeply. My mother gave me a stern look, one of those that used to infuriate me. But I wasn’t resentful anymore. My life, I had great hope, was going to change for the better in my new school. For the first time, I told myself, I will be the master of my own destiny and architect of my decisions. It was scary not knowing what to expect, but was confident that, whatever it was, it was going to be an improvement to the present…I was full of optimism about the future!

Ever since the divorce of my parents mother has been changing, becoming more demanding and imposing all kind of restrictions on me. The custody of my kid brother, David, was given to her but, shortly thereafter, he was ran over by a car and unfortunately, despite of all efforts, he could not be saved and died in the spot. It all happened so sudden that for her it was too traumatic and difficult to accept coming so soon after her divorce.

Things were never the same. She became very irritable and withdrawal. I cached her crying alone several times. There was no way to console her because she will answer with denials and silly excuses. I knew that Mom was consulting a ‘soul healer’ who promised to free her from the ‘bad spirits’ who were scheming against her. I actually was becoming afraid of doing something that would make things worse for her… so for me it was a relief to leave.

32919.png

‘It’s time to go,’ she demanded caustically.

I picked up my luggage and climbed in our old car silently. What happened next I would have never guess! We were running late and the traffic to the airport was pretty heavy. Mother was a good driver but she was very anxious to get there. I was becoming concerned about how rapidly she was proceeding.

I told her to be careful, but she would not listen. Out of frustration with the delays she decided to take a short cut. The new road was narrow, dusty and winded through farmland, mostly cattle ranches. After a while it got bumpy and so, much to our disappointment, we needed to slow down.

A little farther down we saw a big red sign indicating that the road was closed for repairs! Mother slumped over the steering wheel in utter desperation. That’s all we need, she kept repeating over and over again. I tried to comfort her pointing out that it was not absolutely necessary for me to arrive at school that same day, and that all I needed to do was to book in another flight. But she was furious and frustrated. Suddenly she turned around, headed back toward the main road and began speeding as fast as she could.

The car was rocking dangerously and I told Mom to slow down because I had missed my flight anyway. She didn’t paid attention to my advice and continued carrying on. Then, at a turn in the road, the engine sputtered and died down.

I exited the car and looked under the hood. The motor was extremely hot and, being an old car, I thought it had overheated. We waited about five minutes and I tried to start the motor again, but unsuccessfully. We were thoroughly disappointed, but hopeful. Through my cellular phone I called the road service of my insurance. They claimed to be very busy but promised to come and take care of us as soon as possible.

Despite of numerous calls we still were there, marooned in the middle of nowhere, two hours later. Not a single car crossed that road during that time and, because of the heat and the possible dehydration, we both decided to walk toward the main road and look for assistance.

It took us about half an hour to reach the main highway hoping that, finally, we were going to find some help. Several cars went by but, despite our frantic calls, nobody stopped. There are times when you lose your faith in humanity and that was one of these occasions.

By then we were getting desperate and thirsty. The heat was becoming unbearable and we were perspiring profusely. We saw a pickup truck approaching noisily and, suddenly, I saw Mom jumping to the road in front of the truck, making frantic gestures for it to stop. The car was not diminishing its speed and I shouted at the top of my voice begging her to jump aside…BUT SHE DIDN’T!

I still can see her flying with the impact!! She died instantly. Following days I lived in a daze. I frankly have no clear recollection of what happened after the incident. Apparently the driver of the truck kept going and was never found. I vaguely remember an ambulance and being restrained in a hospital, but I had no coherent memory of events until several days later.

Mom was gone in the split of a second. I still have nightmares of seeing her flying through the air. Needless to say, after I lost her, my life suddenly changed completely. My father had abandoned us after he divorced Mom and I had no other known relatives to turn for help.

32914.png

Nevertheless, I finally went to my new school. The academic year had already started and I explained to the President what happened. He was very sorry and shaking his head in disbelief, but told me there was nothing he could do for me because my tuition had not being paid yet.

I promised to do so as soon as I could find a job and reminded him about my mother excellent financial record, but he shook his head and sadly told me that he could only take into consideration my present solvency and that past financial records were of no value. Unfortunately, mother savings barely covered her funeral expenses and, to my chagrin, I discovered that a life insurance she had in my name was allowed to lapse the year before she died. So I had no assets to further my education.

I was devastated by the news because I expected that, given my present difficulties, the school authorities were going to be more sympathetic to my plight and try to help me in my tragedy. But the school president, although expressing his shock and sorrow, was nevertheless firm and told me that, unless I could somehow financially cover my tuition, he had no other choice but to let me go.

I remembered mumbling something to the effect that, given my impeccable academic performance, I surely was going to obtain some government and institutional grants, but he pointed out that the school only could take into consideration those that were already awarded, and that nothing in my records indicated that I even applied for any. I also asked him about the possibility of a student loan but, again, because of the solvency issue, after my mother’s dead, I was not going to be eligible for one. Finally, I asked if the college could provide me with a temporary job to help me pay, but, with a sad expression, he indicated that the available jobs were woefully insufficient to pay for my academic expenses.

My future plans appeared to be shattered and I had no idea what was going to happen to me. I tried to get financial help and moved Heaven and Earth trying, at least, to obtain partial coverage from commercial banks and loaning agencies, but the interests were exorbitant and it was impossible for me to get any. The excuse was that I didn’t have a credit history. How could I possibly get one if I’m not given a chance?

My situation was critical and I couldn’t see any favorable conclusion. Without an education it was impossible for me to get a good job…and without a job I couldn’t have a good education! It was a vicious cycle from where I couldn’t see any way out.

In my errant’s I was spending the meager savings left over after Mom’s funeral. I was refusing to believe that there wasn’t any decent job I could find and kept looking with increasing desperation. Then, finally, I found somebody that would offer me work in a shipping company. I was assign to the recording and inspecting office. It was not an ideal thing, of course, but I hoped that it will let me get by until I found something better.

For a while the arrangement ran smoothly and there were no complains. I was saving as much as possibly hoping, eventually, to get enough to proceed with my studies. Then, one day, a couple of inspectors from the Custom Service came to see me. They were very polite and, after asking general routine questions, proceeded to indicate the reasons of why they wanted to talk to me.

The officials of an entry port had found a package, sent from our company, containing neatly packed pieces of elephant tusks. The shipment was earmarked for a Hamburg wholesaler. The authorities found the stuff when inspecting the cargo, which was labeled as cosmetics.

As they explained, the findings triggered an investigation which necessarily included us, despite of the fact that the merchandize in question was supposed to be sealed at the source before shipping. The return address was blurred, so there was no way of tracing the sender.

The officers then proceeded to ask what was my role in the shipping process, namely if I, at any time, do check the merchandise before sending it to the destination. I adamantly stated that such was not the case, that our only obligation was to make sure the cargo was duly recorded and safe to be transported. I added also that, if we suspect something is wrong, the packages are scanned for explosives or firearms, but that other smuggled objects were hard to detect and impossible to be ruled out by this non-invasive procedure; the only we were legally allowed to perform.

The officers, apparently, were satisfied with my answers and left after thanking me for my time. I, nevertheless, was still concerned and worry not knowing what was going to happen next. Yes, I knew that my responsibility ended with the adequacy of the shipping process, but…could that be enough to exonerate me from any suspicion of wrongdoing?

Time passed and I came to believe that my explanation had been accepted. I was getting use to my job and continued saving some money for my education, which I was determined to continue as soon as possible. Then, about two months after the visit of the officials from the Custom Service, I was called to the office of the CEO of our company. I immediately thought it must be something of extreme importance, because it was very unusual for high ranking executives to bother directly with menial labor matters.

With great concern I entered his quarters. He was sitting in a revolving chair at his desk, paging a voluminous dossier and did not even glance at me. Finally he slowly removed his thick glasses and motioned me to sit in a chair opposite to his in the massive, elegantly carved, ebony desk. ‘Mr. Rosko-he growled in a deep guttural voice-I had been notified, by the Department of Transportation, that we are under investigation in relation to an export item that included material that was not intended to be there. I understand they talked to you about it.’

‘Yes, they came to see me two months ago and I explained to them that our duty was to make sure a package is safe and secure for shipping, but that we were not responsible for what is the nature of the contents,’ I told him knowing that he has to be aware of what I said to them.

The CEO shook his head in disappointment. ‘Mr. Rosko-he shouted in a ringing tone-what you said is absolutely inaccurate! We have to make sure the merchandise is safe and contains no unintended material.’

‘How I’m going to know that?’ I protested.

‘There is no way to know unless you scan the contents,’ he asserted reproachfully.

I was left not knowing what to say in my defense. Yes, I knew about the indications for scanning the contents of a shipping package, but I was told that we have to use our discretion, because to scan all items would have imposed a prohibitive economic burden to our operations.

I mumbled something to the effect that I didn’t think the package contained anything unusual because it looked pretty common…and that identification of package contents in scans was very difficult anyway. But the CEO accused me of using poor judgment. He then explained that the Custom Service had initiated an investigation that could impact the good name of the company.

I was stunned at the news which, to me, was totally unexpected. Frankly, I didn’t know what to say. He then darkly suggested that probably there will be consequences.

These last words kept ringing in my ears. What he meant by that? Was my job in peril…or even was there a chance for a more ominous outcome? Above everything else…what was I supposed to do? What were the risks for me in remaining working there? The situation was very nebulous and I didn’t see a clear way out. The CEO then proceeded to dismiss me dryly, promising to get back to me in case he needed.

Was there any possibility that I be sent to jail for my involvement in the shipping of the smuggled objects? By the way the CEO talked I realized that, if the investigation continued, the company would not hesitate to place all the blame on me. But I felt that my argument about what my job description was will, if matters came to a head, save me. After all, I was only in charge of overseeing the adequacy of the packing and checking for proper routing destination. Nobody, even my boss, could blame me for something it was not my job to do! It was not my responsibility to inspect the contents!!

32910.png

Then something terrible happened! One evening, when I was working late because of a heavy load of incoming packages, I needed to go to the receiving department to clarify the destination of an article. The receptionist had already left, so I went directly to the processing section.

There were several fellows busy packing under glowing lamps, which gave a faint illumination to the scene. I began to approach the group to explain