buttons was charging their way, like a bull. He confronted the group with arms slightly bowed and demanded, “Who is going first?”
There was a moment of intimidated silence. Layne reasoned that he should get it over with while the drug was approaching its peak. Without hesitation he stood and blurted, “I’ll go first.”
The others stared with relief and instant respect for Layne as Bull led him toward the conference room. Layne couldn’t refrain from taking in the agent’s striking green uniform as they walked side by side. His short sleeves had been ironed and starched to crisp perfection, leaving a prominent fold like a piece of paper through the center of the green fabric. The Federal shield on his left breast flashed as Layne moved past it. It was gold and narrower than the police badges he had taken the time to notice. It was the first time Layne had ever seen an agent in person; for him it was almost like seeing a movie star.
The conference room was empty except for two tables. Two of three chairs at one table were occupied by agents in uniform. The table opposite, about fifteen feet away, had one chair for the examinee. Bull showed Layne to his seat, then sat down between the other two agents to complete the panel. The agent to Bull’s right was an overweight Hispanic woman who appeared unenthusiastic—involuntarily detailed to this assignment. The agent to the left was a frail, older Hispanic man who looked like a chain-smoker. His awkward body language made him appear uncomfortable with his duty.
Layne was offended that he would be interrogated by Hispanics about immigration; he considered that perhaps the two agents were unenthusiastic because they were accustomed to apathy while on the border. He tried to clear his mind of negativity as Bull situated himself. Matt had described the Oral Board as another filtration system, a 15-minute melee to thin the herd. “They’re gonna to try to rattle your cage,” Layne remembered Matt saying.
The female agent spoke first, “What is your name?”
“Layne Sheppard.”
She confirmed his name on the file in front of her and said, “My name is Agent Baena. This is Agent Valez, and he is Agent Lopez. Each of us will present you with a real scenario that happened in the field, and you will respond with what you do in the situation as if you’re actually there right now.”
Layne nodded, “I understand.”
She continued, “Agent Valez will start.”
Bull read from a sheet of paper. “You are near the Border Fence with another agent and the two of you apprehend a group of approximately twenty suspected illegal aliens. One of the aliens picks up a rock and reaches back to throw it at you. Your partner shoots and wounds him before he can hit you with it, and the rest of the bodies scatter. What do you do?”
Layne thought for only a few seconds before responding. “I would give medical attention to the wounded alien.”
Bull: “What kind of medical attention? ”
Layne: “I would give him CPR.”
Bull: “You would or you do?”
Layne: “I give him CPR.”
Bull: “What else?”
Layne: “I call an ambulance.”
Bull: “An ambulance in the middle of the desert?”
He felt a jolt of adrenaline that was quickly vanquished by the Valium, which allowed him to think clearly. To make it through this without help would be impossible, anxiety would cause his mind to become blank and stationary, like a blinking cursor.
Layne: “I try to stop the bleeding.”
Bull: “How do you call an ambulance, with what?”
Layne: “With my radio.”
Bull: “Your radio is out of range, so now what?”
Layne: (Pause)“I call for help with my cellphone.”
Bull: “Are you playing games with me, man? That’s really what you would do?”
Layne: (Pause)“Yes. I call for an ambulance with my cellphone.”
Bull shielded his eyes with his hand and shook his head for a moment, then said, “You’re really gonna let twenty bodies go north for one stupid Tonk?”
Bull was almost yelling now.
Layne: “Yes, sir. We can catch the others later; he’s still a human being.”
Bull nodded slightly. The agents seemed to be satisfied with his answer; indeed, it was a test.
The slender agent, Lopez, picked up his piece of paper from the table and read a second scenario as Layne saw stars. He had two more agents to get through. He reminded himself of what Matt had told him, “Don’t reverse yourself.”
The grilling followed a similar pattern, but with less force, while Bull sat with arms crossed to allow the others to interrogate. He seemed to disapprove of Agent Lopez’s passive demeanor. Layne felt weightless and numb until Lopez let up and deferred to Agent Baena. He held his breath with fear of not being able to come up with any response and being forced to say, “I don’t know,” while time crawled and the agents waited.
“Involving the scenario with the wounded alien, there’s an investigation surrounding the incident and you are to meet with an investigator to explain what happened. The agent who shot the alien approaches you and asks that you alter your story because he’s concerned that he will be fired for not following procedure. How do you handle the situation?”
Layne hit a wall. He didn’t want them to think he was a snitch; loyalty was all he had left over from before. He knew what he was supposed to say, but he felt hollow saying it.
Layne: “I tell the investigator exactly what happened as I saw it.”
Baena: “As you saw it, or the truth?”
Layne: “I tell the truth.”
Baena: “Okay.”
Thank God, Layne thought.
Bull shook his head with pronounced disapproval. “Wait a minute, some guy throws a rock at you and an agent shoots him, and you rat him out just like that? I want to be your partner, buddy.”
Layne: “Well, I would talk to the agent first and tell him what I was going to say.”
Bull: “So you could get your twisted story straight with him?”
Layne: “No, to tell him that I am telling the truth to the investigator. I tell the truth.”
Bull: “Why do you even need to go talk to the agent?”
Layne: “To let him know that I am not going behind his back.”
Bull: “I don’t think so. I think the only reason you talk to the agent is so you can get your story straight.”
Layne: “No sir, I just wouldn’t want him to think I was throwing him under the bus.”
Bull: “So you would change the story?”
Layne: “No, I would tell the truth.”
Bull: “Are you sure?”
Layne: “Yes, sir, I tell the truth.”
There was a moment of silence; the agents exchanged glances and Agent Baena said, “We need you to have a seat in the lobby while we make a decision. Agent Valez will come get you when we are ready. But don’t talk with the other applicants about anything that was said in this room. We’ll know if you do.”
Layne left the room in a daze and floated slowly back to the lounge. He felt the hard tile floor through the lack of cushion in the soles of his dress shoes as he walked. The other applicants received him with great anticipation.
As he sat down the lanky blond said, “You look white, dude.”
“I feel lightheaded,” Layne said.
“What