The Lucky and the Proud

If at first I had slight suspicions, they have now reached fruition. My luck is beyond, and yet falls short of what I could ever have hoped. I can say with absolute surety that I will experience great difficulty in writing this month's article. I do not fear a lack of inspiration or of content in the least, however it may no longer be possible to contain what I have discovered in an article the size of two pages at most. While I have not unearthed as much as there is to know (or even close to that amount), I have learned that this man is something well worth writing about. He is the Whiskey Priest! I overheard his conversation with that small girl who offered him shelter. This is the man that has gotten the police of this area, and especially a particularly dogged Lieutenant into a fury of activity that I have not seen them in for years since the first purges of all things Catholic. And it is here that my luck begins to run dry.

Being a man well practiced in evasion and secrecy, he has proved himself most difficult to track. He vanished soon after I realized who he was. I was forced to tag along with Mexico's most intelligent and efficient police force as the bumbled along behind their Lieutenant until I had leads upon which to begin my own search. I fooled their preoccupied and egotistical leader into thinking the governor had called upon me to accompany him and document his "brilliant and ingenious plan" to rid his country of its "true enemies," the ones that threatened its "lofty and virtuous ideals." Proud and idealistic men fall head-over-heals when you appeal to their vanity in such a manner as this. He swaggered off quite sure of himself and gave me free reign to do as I pleased. I did not have to wait long to find the Whiskey Priest. Quite apart from their knowledge, Mexico's finest lead me right to the man.