The Bootlegger’s Legacy Read Online Free PDF Page A

community—he lived it. These were his neighbors and his neighbors’ kids, no matter how bad or rotten they sometimes were.
    Law enforcement was Ray’s life. He had lost his wife to cancer more than five years before, and his only son had moved to Boston to take a job with a top-notch law firm. Ray was proud of his son, but he also agonized over a deep resentment he felt toward him for moving so far away.
    Ray was originally from Macon, Georgia. That was where he met and married his wife. His first years in law enforcement were in Macon. He’d also spent a short time with the Jacksonville, Florida, police force before he answered an ad in a law enforcement magazine for a Chief Deputy Sheriff in Las Cruces, New Mexico. Ray and his wife debated the craziness of moving to New Mexico—the distance, the difference in cultures, all the various risks. They were excited about the opportunity for Ray to advance in his career, but also concerned about moving so far away to such an unknown place.
    Even when the Dona Ana Sheriff’s office offered Ray the job, the mixed feelings remained. After heart-searching discussions, their decision was made. They took the plunge, and they fell in love with Las Cruces and Dona Ana County. Ray’s wife became active in civic matters almost at once and began to feel connected. She had made Las Cruces seem like home to Ray.
    He did well in the department. He and the Sheriff made a good team—the Sheriff was very political, while Ray knew law enforcement—so the Sheriff could spend time at meetings and political events, which he enjoyed, while Ray ran the department, where he excelled. Ray formed some great relationships with the deputies, and they learned to trust him. He always backed his men, and he became a resource for everyone in the department on the best way to handle any matter.
    The job of Sheriff opened up rather suddenly when the old Sheriff was seriously injured in an auto accident. Unable to perform his duties, the Sheriff resigned. The county commissioners scheduled a special election. Many people encouraged Ray to run, and he decided to give it a shot. His biggest hurdle was that he was totally non-political. He answered every question as truthfully as he could, and if he didn’t know the answer he said so.
    Ray’s last name was Hispanic—Ray was not. He’d never paid much attention to his Spanish heritage when he lived in Georgia. He’d never much cared what tribe people belonged to—he treated everyone more or less the same. The old Sheriff had made a mistake when he hired Ray, sight unseen, based on his Hispanic last name, although it had worked out well for everyone.
    There was a three-person race for the Sheriff’s job and both the other candidates were Hispanic, one from the department and the other a car salesman with local political connections. They attacked Ray for being white and an out-of-stater. The white part was never said outright, but often implied. The other candidates captured the majority of votes, but Ray got the most votes of any individual candidate. There was no process in place for a runoff—Ray was Sheriff.
    His first year was a little rough. Ray tried the best he could to be a little more political, or at least diplomatic, but on occasion he still ruffled some feathers. Soon, though, it became obvious to anyone who was paying attention that there had been an overall improvement in the department. After that, he was entrenched in the job. His ability to successfully run a Sheriff’s department and fairly represent everyone’s interests overrode his sometimes less-than-politically-correct, direct manner. He won the next race in a landslide.
    Ray was generally described as burly, about six feet one and just a little on the heavy side. He’d recently grown a mustache, which gave him an old west cowboy appearance. He dressed in his sheriff’s uniform every day, except Sundays and the one other day he took off each week, which rotated. On those days