Kimberly Guerrero

They were talking as they came, both men swinging back and forth like cowboys headed for a gunfight.

"'Morning, ma'am.'

"'Good morning.'

"'Cecil here tells me you and the girl are Blackfoot.'

"'That's right.'

"'Now, I know that we got Blackfeet on the American side and the Canadians got Blackfeet on their side, so can we just keep our records straight?'

What side do you come from?

I knew exactly what my mother was going to say, and I could have told them if they'd asked me.

Canadian side or American side?

Asked the guard.

Blackfoot side, she said.

It didn't take them long to lose her sense of humor, I can tell you that.

One guard stopped smiling altogether and told us to park our car at the side of the building and come in.

We sat on the wood bench for about an hour before anyone came over to talk to us.

This time it was a woman.

She had a gun, too.

Hi, she said.

I'm Inspector Pratt.

I understand there's a little misunderstanding.

I'm going to visit my daughter in Salt Lake City, my mother told her.