Time to Reflect

The man who told me this story is no longer in the land of the free. He is in a prison in a tropical country that for reasons of international relations and domestic politics shall remain nameless. It would not be indiscreet, however, to describe the country as being located in the narrow waist between the Americas, that the language of the majority of its inhabitants is a form of Spanish, and that its principal exports are unripe fruits and the less advantaged of its citizens.

Our protagonist, an American in his mid-fifties, was once a person of influence in the capital city of that country. Living there for decades, and enjoying the status and privileges of a well-to-do expatriate, he moved easily within the circles of the ruling class, which typically was made up of military men trained in the U.S. From within this oligarchy, through coups that might deniably have been directed from Washington, came the country's presidents. Once in a while, the country's leadership might comprise a junta of several officers who made a great show of sharing power, until the strongest among them gained enough control of the armed forces to send his erstwhile partners into exile in Miami.

In such a climate, rampant corruption kept pace with inflation, and the country's meager natural resources were exploited, converted, and then diverted into secret offshore bank accounts for the benefit of the oligarchs and their families. Our protagonist was then well placed to facilitate the process, and in so doing, he ensured that he also became a beneficiary. So lucrative was his enterprise that in time he became a prominent citizen of the country, acquiring a fine house in a guarded colonia, a beautiful wife, and several mistresses

All went well for a dozen years, until a new revolution brought to power a young colonel of peasant stock, a campesino who was legendary for his bravery and incorruptibility. That he was also a Marxist added to his luster in the eyes of the common people. This new leader and his devoted followers did what they could to clean out the Stygian stables of the impoverished country. Our protagonist was arrested, tried, and convicted of a number of crimes against the people, and sentenced to fourteen years' hard labor.

(End of story, until I can think of a better denouement.)