Chapter 11: Mai's L.A. Story

We all took care of personal needs and reconvened in the great room. As folks came in, I thought about how we should handle the discussion from this point on. I knew why Mai went to LA and I deduced that she was going to tell a pretty good story. We would find out what she did there and how she and Merlin found each other.

As I mentioned, I had been doing quite a bit of research on modern slavery in America. While Mai was gone to L.A., I hadn't really discussed my research that much with Heather or An. This was mainly because I didn't want to agitate them and have them constantly worrying about Mai's safety, while she was active in LA. I was already doing enough of that for all of us.

Tim and I had privately discussed my research and came to the conclusion that we would have to wait for Mai to give us more information. Charging off to Los Angeles to help her would be exciting and satisfying, but just plain stupid because of our ignorance and lack of any support resources. Mai would let us know if she needed help, and we had to give her the respect she deserved and allow her to work without our interference.

I looked around the group.

"Would there be any objections if I launch into a summary of what I've found, when I researched modern slavery in America?"

All I saw were nodding heads.

Merlin spoke up, "Why don't you do that? I'm sure you have a more detailed view of the situation here in the United States. Later, if you all don't mind, I might be able to add some more information to what I've already given you on the international situation."

"OK, Merlin. Well, here goes. First of all, with all the attention our country has put on modern slavery, they still can't call it what it is. The politically correct buzzword is 'trafficking', or sometimes, 'human trafficking'. It sounds like someone peddling vegetables. It seems, these days, we have to make all labels neutral.

"Just to set the mood, let me first mention a few figures. It is estimated that there are conservatively over 27 million slaves worldwide, at any given time. In the United States, very conservative estimates by the CIA are that over 50,000 slaves are brought into the country, for the sex industry alone every year. The average age is thirteen.

"The enforcement here is so pitiful that when brothels with slave sex workers are raided in major cities, the slaves are jailed on prostitution charges. Their owners bail them out and quickly move them to another jurisdiction, before anyone even questions their status. The slaves believe there is no hope and that the authorities are part of the owners' organization.

"Some examples of how these women and girls become slaves are; slavers in poor countries tempt their victims by advertising good jobs for high pay in exciting cities, or by setting up bogus employment, travel, modeling, and matchmaking agencies, to lure unsuspecting young men and women into the trafficking networks. In many cases, slavers trick parents into believing their children will be taught a useful skill or trade, once removed from the home.

"The children, of course, end up enslaved. In the most violent cases, victims are forcefully kidnapped or abducted. With globalization, and cheap transportation, you can move people easier and quicker than guns or drugs, and you can use them over and over again. You don't just sell them once and call it a day. It's very, very profitable.

I picked up a sheet I had printed from an Internet site, and looking at Mai, said, "Let me read you just the opening paragraph of this news item I picked up about the garment industry."

'On August 2, 1995, the American public was horrified by press reports about the discovery at an apartment complex in El Monte, California, of seventy-two Thai garment workers who had been held in slavery for up to seventeen years, sewing clothes for some of the nation's top manufacturers and retailers. The workers labored over eighteen hours a day in a compound enclosed by barbed wire. Armed guards imposed discipline. Crowded eight or ten into bedrooms built for two, rats crawled over them during their few precious hours of sleep. From their homes in impoverished rural Thailand, these women and men had dared to dream the immigrant's dream--a better life for themselves; hard work with just pay, and decent living conditions. What they found instead was an immigrant's nightmare--a garment industry that reaps exorbitant profit from its workers, organized to disclaim any responsibility for the inhumane consequences.'

I went on, "What did our authorities do? They arrested all the worker/slaves, and held them in abysmal conditions for immigration violations! They had no legal counsel and when worker advocacy groups were finally able to interview them, they were brought to the interviews in shackles, shuffling along in orange prison jump suits. Even with a great deal of outside agitation, it took months to free some of them and try to get our government to treat them as the slaves they were, rather than illegal immigrants.

"Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or ICE, states they don't have to give any of the immigrants any 'rights', because ICE maintains that they are engaged in an 'administrative' process and therefore the rights of an accused person don't apply. These rights we take for granted are only applicable to criminal cases and not administrative detentions.

"The situation I just read to you isn't unique. It is still going on today. I read this one because I felt it succinctly described just the conditions that An and Mai lived under for many years. It is just one way in which human beings are enslaved and treated worse than animals for profit."

Mai had slid over by An while I read the article and they were holding each other.

"I'm sorry to have brought up something so traumatic to you both. I couldn't help but get light headed when I first read this, thinking of the two of you living like that. Those feelings were followed by the most intense rage I have ever felt. I wanted to kill something. I wanted to give pain to those evil people who deserve no consideration from our society. They should be hunted down and killed like the vermin they are."

Mai and An gave me a small smile and wiped their eyes.

Mai said, "There are a few less vermin now Grandpa, but it's like stamping out cockroaches. Every time your foot comes down there's another one skittering across the floor."

Tim looked at me and said, "Tell us how you really feel, Sean."

Lucky for him he was smiling.

I started again.

"The ways slaves are brought into the country and the uses they are put to are limitless. A couple was caught in one of the northeastern states, after they had purchased an East African girl for $1200 and used her as a house slave for several years. She was made to do all the work in the house and sleep outside the owners' bedroom door on the floor in case she was needed.

"When she reached puberty, she was continually sexually abused by both the husband and the wife. When they were finally caught, she was considered and treated, as an illegal alien and the owners were given a misdemeanor conviction for 'depriving someone of their freedom'.

"Maybe she was lucky. Twin East Indian girls were purchased for around the same $1200 each and they went on to make their owners an average of $400 each per hour, as prostitutes.

"Does slavery pay? You bet it does. Penalties are almost non-existent. Prosecution is difficult because of the often illegal immigration status of the slaves. We have few laws that are effective.

"The Victims of Trafficking and Violence Protection Act, passed in 2000, is supposed to help by providing funding and connecting various agencies to assist in combating slavery. Unfortunately, it is working like most government programs; incompetently.

"The human traffickers, or slavers, as I prefer to call them, are rich, influential businessmen. They have the power to impede or halt investigations of their interests. Look on the Internet and you will see dozens of cases where the rich and influential got off with fines or a hand slap for actually importing and using human beings for slave labor and sexual abuse."

I took a deep breath.

"The number of slaves, the routes, and schemes that enslave them, and the uses they are put to, are many. It is mind boggling when you think of the size of the problem. I am convinced that slavery is so profitable worldwide that it is condoned, or even supported by many governments.

"Knowing where to start in fighting it is stymieing me. I know we haven't gotten that far in our discussion but I can see where you, Mai, and you, Merlin, are heading. I can assure you, we want to help."

Mai looked around, and then at Merlin.

She said, "I guess this would be a good time to tell my story."

Mai took a deep breath, "Here goes. I think you can understand the guilt I was feeling after we escaped and especially after the great life Grandpa and Grandma made for Mom and me. I couldn't stop thinking about the people we had left behind when we escaped. It ate at me, but I knew I had to wait for my powers to mature, if I wanted to be successful in fighting those who held my friends in slavery.

"It was a confusing time for me. Like Merlin, I was trying to come to grips with my talents and learn their nature and limits. Like Merlin, for me the transition through puberty seemed to be the period where my talents grew and manifested themselves fully.

"I was reaching that point when Grandpa and I were attacked on the beach. I should have known we would be attacked, but there were gaps in my precognitive abilities. Luckily, we were able to handle the attack."

I looked at her with raised eyebrows, "What's this 'we' crap, Kemo Sabe?"

Mai laughed, "Well, you did take two out before you got hit. Anyway, it woke me up that I needed to get moving and do something. Maybe I wasn't as rational as I should have been, but I was suddenly very scared for all of you, and determined right then to get my people out of slavery and punish those who held them. I made sure you, Grandma, Mom, and Tim would be OK while I was gone and teleported to Los Angeles."

"How did you know where to show up in L.A.," I asked.

"Good question, Grandpa. I have to have an image of a place in order to teleport to it. I hadn't seen anything of Los Angeles except the building we were held in and the loading area outside. So, that's where I went.

"I appeared in the parking area near the loading docks outside our building and immediately started sauntering away from the area. In a diverse and industrial area like that, no one pays any attention to just another slant eye walking down the street."

"We were wearing swim wear when you disappeared," I said.

"I didn't think to mention that. One of my talents is to manipulate matter, to an atomic level. It is the same one I used to heal you and repair the health problems you and Grandma had. I just manipulated molecules in the surrounding atmosphere and created clothes. Like Merlin, I didn't know some of my talents until I needed them, then they just happened."

I said, "What's the story on those idiots that attacked us on the beach?"

"Well, Grandpa, we left a bit more of a trail than we thought. Picture this scenario. A woman slave and her daughter mysteriously escape. At the same time, the contractor who picked up the sweat shop's scrap material stops coming. They put two and one together, and came up with us leaving with him.

"After that, it was a matter of going through the Latin community and questioning folks about the scrap collector. They found out about his move to Minnesota.

"The trail went cold for them until our attack hit the news. It was too much of a coincidence that a Vietnamese mother and daughter were attacked in the area of the city where they traced the Latin contractor to.

"The part that messed up my thinking was my disbelief that they would go to all that trouble to get to us. Apparently, from the information I got from the other slaves after I freed them, Mom and I became heroes to the other slaves. The owners were worried that our story would cause more unrest and escapes. Security really tightened up after we escaped and the physical abuses increased. That part makes me very sad and guilty.

"Anyway, they lost track of us again because they couldn't get any information from the authorities in Minnesota. The Police and County Attorney really put the lid on our case. Then, after the lottery win they picked us up again.

"Someone was gossiping about the strange family group that chartered the Gulfstream V, for a move to Florida. The combination of an older Caucasian couple with two Asian women was interesting gossip. Our description was what they needed to start tracking us again.

"They easily found our destination and again lost us until the gossip started circulating about the strange family that paid cash for an estate on Jupiter Island. They set up surveillance and identified us when we were out and about away from the estate.

"They tried to get around the security you set up but were unable to. Our security while traveling around the area stymied their plans too. Finally, they decided they would attack through the most vulnerable avenue; the sea.

"It was just dumb luck that you and I were walking that day, and stumbled upon them. They intended to land, hide out until dark, and infiltrate our estate at night from the beach."

"What were their intentions?" I said.

"Their orders were to capture Mom and me and bring us back, to be made examples of in front of the other slaves. If they were unable to do that, they were to torture and kill us, and document it on video, to show the other slaves."

"Isn't this pretty expensive and extreme just for two slaves?" I said.

"Grandpa, first of all you can't believe the wealth these people have. This was nothing to them, financially. Also, they were driven by the hate and fear they have. Can you imagine the anxiety when you are controlling hundreds of slaves and have to keep them secure and hidden from the authorities? The biggest fear they had, was that Mom and I would somehow expose their schemes and cause their empire to be damaged.

"I learned most of this when I visited the leadership of the business cartel that runs the sweat shops in Los Angeles. The person who ordered our capture or death was in the second level up from the sweatshop we were in.