Jacob Diaz

You don't have to answer if you don't want to.

She looked down at the tiled tabletop, ashamed.

I thought... I thought you kids didn't love me.

The answer hardened him.

He felt angry at the foolishness of her response.

Even a dog, thought Diaz, wouldn't abandon its puppies.

That's the best you can come up with after 11 years?

He'd have rather heard she simply couldn't afford to feed, clothe, and house them.

Diaz would have accepted anything within reason.

I have plenty of money, you know.

He pulled a stack of bills out of his pocket, then confided that he was an international drug trafficker.

But she didn't seem to understand the severity of the disclosure.

It's dangerous, he added.

I could go to prison.

Oh, well, just be careful.

The entire conversation felt wrong.

Diaz turned cold, emotionally detached, and he longed to be in Acapulco.

Interestingly, during the weeks that I've interviewed Diaz, every time I bring up his mother, he became emotional.

After all of these years, the mere thought of her abandonment brought him to tears.

Diaz randomly pulled up local drug arrests on the Ocala Sheriff's Office website.