San Diego and Mexico

Angelika When Michael set off for the Perl conference, sponsored by AOL as every year, to San Diego located about 1,000 kilometers south of San Francisco, I thought to myself: San Diego is nice, the ocean in July is nicely warm for swimming, and just like that, I packed my bags and went along.

San Diego embodies what every tourist imagines California to be: The sun almost always shines, and the surfboard is practically handed to you at birth. If you're looking for the casual Californian lifestyle, head to San Diego and rent a room in a beach hotel. That's exactly what we did.

While Michael was frolicking in conference halls, I was hopping around in the waves, watching sun-tanned, fit boys and girls with one or two tattoos, always in search of the best wave. Greetings from Baywatch. San Diego is known not just as a surfer's paradise, but also for its proximity to the Mexican border. Thus, a day trip to the Mexican border town of Tijuana is no problem at all. And for us, freshly minted Green Card holders, even less so.

Of course, even when visiting the U.S. on a visa, one can enter Mexico and then return to the USA. However, this route is often chosen by people whose visas (usually tourist visas) are about to expire, in the hope of securing another six-month stay in the USA. Naturally, the American immigration authorities are aware of this and therefore frequently scrutinize visa holders thoroughly. And after September 11th, border controls at both the Mexican and Canadian borders were tightened anyway.

But I'm getting ahead of myself: Getting from San Diego to Mexico is super easy. You go to the tram stop, where a friendly employee explains to the American wary of public transport how to insert four dollars for a round-trip ticket into the machine (thank you!). Then you board the tram, known as the "Trolley," to San Ysidro, the last town on the American side.

Finally, after about an hour, when the tram stops, you get off and walk through a concrete tunnel, which looks like an ordinary pedestrian overpass, to the Mexican side. We passed through a turnstile and stood in front of a large sign: "Mexico". Somewhere, two border officers were standing around, but no one asked us for any papers.

From the border, you can easily walk into the city. Signs show the way. But, of course, everyone wants to do business with the tourists and cross-border commuters. That's why, right after the border, we encountered a fleet of yellow taxis. The taxi drivers weren't sitting bored in their taxis; instead, they approached the tourists with wild gestures, trying to lure a customer into their taxi with a fixed price. From the brochure of the tourist office, we knew that it is customary to negotiate the price before getting into the taxi. But, as I said, we were walking anyway.

Interestingly, just a few days prior, there had been a not-so-friendly incident involving taxi drivers, as I read in the local San Diego newspaper: Some angry taxi drivers had blocked an American tour bus with their taxis and threw stones at the windshield, believing that the tour buses coming from the American side were ruining their business. However, the newspaper assured that such incidents are quite rare.

By the way, Tijuana is a typical border city. Those seeking the real Mexico might return disappointed. Tijuana is modern, quite large (1.8 million residents), and among the wealthier Mexican cities. Where the tourists gather, there are countless kitschy souvenir shops, as well as restaurants and pubs where young Americans let themselves get drunk. After all, in Mexico, 18-year-olds can already buy alcohol, while on the other side of the border, one must wait until their 21st birthday.

At every corner, shop owners and street vendors (speaking English, by the way) approached us. We had heard horror stories that they wouldn't leave you alone. However, we found that a friendly "No, thank you!" or a shake of the head was enough to get rid of the sellers. Payment is naturally in US dollars; tourists should definitely not pull out Mexican pesos. Michael and I strolled through the streets, enjoying the hustle and bustle and the bright colors. Laughing, we watched tourists getting photographed on a platform set up behind a donkey. Why the donkey was painted to look like a zebra, we couldn't figure out to this day.

Pharmaceutical companies can only sell medications in Mexico at adjusted prices due to the low purchasing power of the peso, which is why the same drug brand often costs much less there than in the USA. As a result, in Tijuana, there are noticeably clean-looking pharmacies offering inexpensive branded medications.

Our plans also included a visit to an upscale seafood restaurant that the travel guide had praised. Michael initially grumbled that the idea of eating fish in Mexico might not be so wise, but the fish was fresh and super delicious, and the bill was up to US standards, which meant it was quite high for Mexican standards. However, we dined among Mexicans and not in a tourist hotspot. Of course, I did wonder whether the locals paid different prices than we did.

After a few hours, we set off on our return journey to San Diego. We simply followed the blue signs marked U.S.A. Of course, we hoped for a quick process at the border, but when we arrived, we saw the huge queue of pedestrians. The drivers didn't have it any better: The traffic jam in front of the border posts was considerable.

Kindly, there was a small roofed area for pedestrians, resembling a mansard, to protect them from heatstroke during the long wait. As we patiently stood in line, we observed with amusement the innovative business ideas Mexicans came up with to earn a few more dollars before we disappeared back onto the American side. Street vendors walked through the lines of cars with souvenirs and treats. Buses were ready, and cleverly assured us that we would cross the border in no time if we just boarded the bus, while in the pedestrian queue, we would need at least three hours. But what we liked best were the so-called "Border Bikes." For a rental fee, willing tourists were given a bicycle that looked like a folding bike, and they crossed the border with it.

However, the cyclists couldn't just speed past the cars up to the border booths. They lined up between pedestrians and buses, and progress was slow. Initially, the cyclists might have been a bit faster, but at the xray machine, located inside a building, we encountered them again, and here, the cyclists had a disadvantage because of the added complexity to navigate through security with all their belongings and bicycles. It surprised us, by the way, that the American border officials tolerated the bicycle phenomenon.

For us pedestrians, the whole process unfolded as follows: Firstly, we waited outside in the queue. Slowly, we moved towards the building. Border officials only allowed a certain number of people into the building at a time. We were screened and asked if we had any weapons. Then, we proceeded through some corridors to the next queue. Eventually, we reached one of the immigration authority counters. We presented our Green Card (and only the card, by the way). The officer asked us what we had bought in Mexico and couldn't believe it when we said, "Nothing!" And just like that, after about an hour and a half of waiting, we found ourselves back in San Ysidro, where we boarded the tram.

Sounds simple, doesn't it? It is, too, if you're an American or a tourist crossing the border. But for Mexicans, especially those attempting to cross illegally, it's a different story altogether. In order to stem the flow of illegal Mexican immigrants, the authorities launched the so-called "Operation Gatekeeper" in 1994: The border around San Diego was sealed off tightly, and border agents were equipped with all sorts of technical gadgets, such as infrared cameras, to quickly locate and promptly send back individuals attempting to cross the border illegally from Mexico.

Due to increased security at the San Diego border, many now try their luck further inland, which typically involves long hikes through the desert. This often leads to fatalities, as people succumb to exhaustion, dehydration, or drown during river crossings. In the documentary film "Death on a Friendly Border," which I recently watched in one of my classes and which focuses on the described border section, it was stated that an average of one person loses their life there every day.

Interestingly, there is a group of volunteers on the American side who, at their own expense and in their spare time, replenish so-called water stations with gallons of drinking water every weekend to prevent people illegally crossing the border from dying of thirst in the desert. These water stations are marked with blue flags. There is a "Gentlemen's Agreement" that border officials do not disturb the water stations and do not apprehend anyone in their vicinity. I wanted to mention this just to show that not all Americans adopt a tough cowboy attitude. Many Mexicans, including Mexican President Fox, hoped for border relaxations just over a year ago. There was talk of increasing the number of work visas for Mexico and of a possible amnesty for Mexicans living illegally in the USA, meaning the opportunity to gain legal status - all put on hold after the terrorist attacks.

German Federal Election: Voting from Abroad

Back to work

Two weeks later, the authorities sent me a new card with the same number, but without any employment restrictions. Michael also went through the same process, as his card had the clause "Valid for work only with INS-Authorization" under visa status. With a Green Card, he is now free as well, as he can work for any employer without the need for approval from the immigration authorities.

Furthermore, I filled out the I-9 "Employment Eligibility Verification" form, which every American employer must have on file for both American citizens and "everyone else." Essentially, you are certifying that you are indeed eligible to work and that you are who you claim to be. However, a signed certification alone is not sufficient; the employer is required to review the appropriate documents, such as a driver's license with a photo or a passport, as well as a green card and social security card.

And because I work with children, the state of California continues to require that my fingerprints be taken to check that I don't have any prior convictions related to child abuse.

Starting in September: Fingerprints required for entry into the USA

The Jury System in the American Criminal Trial

Michael A letter from the "San Francisco Superior Court," the city's highest court, arrived by mail the other day. In it, Angelika was sternly ordered to participate as a juror in a trial. As you probably know from American TV series (like "Law and Order"), in the United States, it is not the judge who decides whether the defendant is guilty in a criminal trial, but rather a randomly selected group of twelve laypeople.

The economics/law teachers among you might be shouting: Haha, but in Germany, there are also lay judges! That's right, my dear ones, but have you ever read in the newspaper that a case was overturned by a lay judge? Theoretically, the German lay judges are on par with the presiding judge and in some cases even capable of overruling the judge.

In Germany, however, according to "Ehrenamt Schöffe", there are only 61,000 lay judges -— meaning just one for every 1,500 citizens. I suspect that mostly those who just say, "Yes, Your Honor!" are chosen. Additionally, it's easy for professional judges to overwhelm laypeople with complex legal jargon.

In the USA, it is actually "the people" who decide instead of the judge. According to the Constitution, this is a group of "peers," meaning equals. I find this to be one of America's most impressive achievements. The people thus have a final right of objection in the application of laws. Of course, this raises a whole series of problems: for example, state and defense attorneys regularly put on full-blown theatrical performances during trials to win over Mr. and Mrs. Average from the jury. While judges in foreign legal systems often face little control and can therefore fully indulge their desire for recognition, a judge here in the USA does indeed lead the proceedings, determines which witnesses and evidence are admitted, but generally has to bow to the jury's "guilty/not guilty" verdict. The judge can then independently determine the sentence.

In a trial, after the opening statements from the prosecution and the defense, the jury is presented with the facts. Only what is explicitly stated by witnesses or experts during the trial actually counts. Even if the case has already been on television and, for example, a video of the incident exists, this does not automatically qualify as evidence. If the judge decides, for instance, in response to an objection from the defense, that the weapon with the defendant's fingerprints is not admissible as evidence (e.g., because it was obtained through improper police methods), then the jury must disregard its existence.

If a witness on the stand answers the prosecutor's question, "Where was the defendant at the time of the crime?" with "At my house. We have an amazing collection of weapons," the defense attorney would shout, "Objection, non-responsive!" because witnesses are only allowed to directly answer the questions posed by the prosecutor or the defense attorney and not add anything extra. If the judge then says "Sustained," the part about the weapons collection is stricken, and the jury is instructed by the judge to act as if they never heard it.

Or if the defense attorney asks the witness, "Isn't it true that the defendant is an angel who wouldn't hurt a fly?" the prosecutor would shout, "Objection, leading!" (the witness is being "led," meaning a specific answer is being suggested). The judge would most likely say "Sustained!" and instruct the witness not to answer the question and the jury to draw no conclusions from it. If the judge says "Overruled," the question is allowed, and the witness must answer.

This can complicate a trial that may last for months with hundreds of objections, which are either overruled or sustained, especially for Joe Sixpack on the jury bench, who has to remember what counts and what has been dismissed.

If the prosecution or the defense needs to prove a claim, they must bring someone to testify about it in court. It is not sufficient to have a letter from a state-certified expert or to rely on something that is generally known, such as the fact that the highway 101 is extremely busy at six o'clock in the evening. In the latter case, a police officer would come to court and testify under oath: "Highway 101 was extremely busy on Monday, March 7th, at six in the evening." Otherwise, it doesn't count.

Even if a juror knows something from the newspaper, is a crime expert, or knows the defendant as a lousy crook, they are not allowed to use this knowledge in their decision-making. Jurors are only allowed to consider what they learn during the trial. For this reason, in high-profile cases (such as the O.J. Simpson case from a few years ago), they are often sequestered to ensure that they do not watch television or read newspapers. In a trial that lasts for months, this is akin to a prison sentence.

The jury system also sometimes leads to excessive damage claims. Some time ago, there was a case where a car manufacturer had placed the fuel tank in an unsafe location for cost reasons. As a result, a car caught fire in an accident and several people were burned to death. The anger of the relatives over the company's business practices is understandable; they sued for damages.

The jury members saw it the same way and wanted to see the company suffer. Following the motto "It doesn't cost anything," they agreed that the company should somehow pay 65 billion (!) dollars. I believe that's the defense budget of the Federal Republic of Germany. Or like the woman who burned herself with McDonald's coffee and received several million because McDonald's hadn't written "Caution, hot!" on the coffee cup. The jury members probably thought: I've been sitting here in court all day, let's make it really exciting! By the way, sometimes the amount is later reduced or the verdict is completely overturned; the judge is allowed to do that if it's too ridiculous, at least in California.

The judge explains to the jurors at the end of the trial in relatively plain English and in great detail what their task is and what they are allowed to consider. For example, everything the prosecutor or the defense attorney said is irrelevant —- only witness and expert testimonies count. The jury's task can be summarized briefly: they determine whether the prosecutor has succeeded in proving the defendant's guilt "beyond reasonable doubt," meaning conclusively. If there is the slightest doubt, the verdict must be "not guilty."

After attending the entire trial (jurors are not allowed to ask questions, only to observe) and being instructed by the judge about their duties, the jury members retreat behind closed doors to reach a unanimous verdict (at least in California; different rules may apply in other states). If they fail to do so because one juror disagrees, it results in a "hung jury," and the trial must be repeated.

The jury must limit its verdict to the existing legal framework. A juror cannot say, "I don't like this law, so I will say 'not guilty,' even though the scoundrel clearly violated this bizarre law." The judge will also instruct the jury that the potentially imposed sentence should not influence the decision of 'guilty' or 'not guilty.'

But of course, all the instructions are of no use against the entrenched prejudices of the jurors. This happened in the case of Rodney King, a Black man who was brutally beaten by white police officers in Los Angeles. The jury was all white and acquitted the officers, even though a video tape showed the scene in detail. However, the prosecution's strategy, which did not even call Rodney King to the witness stand, was also somewhat hollow. The next day, racial riots broke out in Los Angeles.

On the other hand, the black football player O.J. Simpson was acquitted of the murder of his wife, even though the facts overwhelmingly pointed to a conviction. After the verdict, a black jury member saluted the defendant with the "Black Power" gesture.

Judges are directly elected by the people here, by the way. You often see election posters with slogans like "Vote for Judge Smith!" whereas in Germany, it goes through connections to the state government, which either nominates their socialist buddies or anti-abortion hardliners.

The court also invites many more jury members than are actually needed. This is because both the prosecution and the defense are allowed to reject an unlimited number of people for valid reasons and a limited number for purely tactical reasons. This takes place before the trial, in the so-called "Voir Dire." For example, if the death penalty is at stake in a trial, the first question to a potential juror is: Are you against the death penalty? If the answer is "yes," the person is immediately dismissed. This is considered a "valid reason" in the procedural rules -- however, it means that in such trials, only 65-70% of the population is represented, because the rest are against the death penalty. Lawyers also try to exclude people with strong personalities, as they can sometimes create group dynamics and cause unwelcome surprises. These are strategic reasons.

The excellent book "Last Chance for Justice" by Laurence Geller and Peter Hamenway describes in detail how the process works and the conflicts that can arise. Normally, the trial takes place near the location of the crime. However, if it seems that a fair trial is not possible due to local bias, it can be moved elsewhere.

This happened in the case of the unpleasant dog-owner duo in San Francisco, whose fighting dogs killed a resident. Almost any twelve-member group of San Francisco residents would have sentenced the two fools to the maximum penalty because the case caused such outrage. To ensure a fair trial according to the American Constitution, the case was moved to Los Angeles. The dog owners were still convicted.

Since there are always a bunch of ongoing cases, people are constantly being selected to sit on some jury for the next trial. And the selection is truly random -- everyone from punks to company executives can be chosen. Once selected, it's hard to get out of it. It's common for someone in the company to be absent because they have to fulfill "jury duty." At AOL, there's even a checkbox for this when filling out a leave form. Employers are generally not required to continue paying wages, but they cannot fire an employee for fulfilling their civic duties. Depending on the state, there might be compensation from the government, but usually not more than a few dollars a day. And it's clear that a year-long trial can naturally spell the end for a career that had just begun hopefully.

The summons, by the way, indicates that proper attire is desired. It is advised against wearing tank tops, shorts, or flip-flops. Anyone who already envisioned Angelika serving on the next murder trial like O.J. Simpson's, perhaps even speculating about a televised broadcast, will unfortunately be disappointed: only American citizens are eligible to perform this duty. The reason Angelika still received a summons is that there is no registration requirement in the U.S., so the city of San Francisco has no idea who actually lives there. As a result, they tap into the DMV database and send summonses to all driver's license holders without a criminal record. Since this includes many "Resident Aliens" (i.e., permanent residents without citizenship), the summons comes with a form allowing recipients to indicate that they fall into this category. This is exactly what Angelika did.

Quite a pity, really! It would have made for great newsletter material!

Since even the newsletter reporters are not allowed to take photographs in the courtroom, we simply took the images from Angelika's favorite TV series "Law & Order," which, as a lawyer once told us at a party, depicts quite realistically how typical criminal trials proceed.

Just like in "Law & Order," it rarely comes to a trial in reality, because most of the time the prosecutor and defense attorney make a so-called "plea bargain." The prosecutor proposes a sentence, typically slightly below the usual penalty, which the defendant and their attorney accept because the laws have become so incredibly strict that the jury usually has no choice but to convict based on the legal situation.

For example, in California, the "Three Strikes" law applies: Just like in baseball, where "three strikes" means the batter is out, for someone who has already been convicted twice of moderately severe or violent crimes (it is enough to simply break into a private home), the third time automatically means: life imprisonment. It does not matter if the third offense was trivial. There is actually a case in California where someone was sentenced to life imprisonment because they stole a pizza the third time. That means at least 25 years!

Two million prisoners are sitting in American prisons. That's 1% of the population! I believe that is almost a world record. By the way, the correctional facilities are mostly located in remote areas. On our excursions, we have passed by a few of them. You can tell on the highway because suddenly there are signs that say you shouldn't pick up hitchhikers anywhere in the area.

Latest from the Beer Front

Michael By the way, besides Beck’s, Americans consider the brand 'St. Pauli Girl' to be German beer. I could barely convince a colleague that there's no way that's German. Unfortunately, I then lost a bet over it because, according to their website, the brew is supposedly made in Bremen (is that really Germany?). However, I have never seen it for sale anywhere in Germany. It also tastes awful, so I don’t think anyone in Germany would buy it."

Recently, I noticed a small advertisement at our table in a well-known bar, where two affectionate gentlemen were actually promoting a brand of beer! Major American beer manufacturers find themselves in a dilemma: the gay community in San Francisco not only loves to party and drink beer, but on average, they also have quite a bit of money to spend on it. A group that undoubtedly needs to be targeted with advertisements!

On the other hand, brewing companies don't want to shake up traditional values. The good ol' boy from Texas must not, under any circumstances, believe that drinking Miller beer is somehow "gay" -— otherwise, he might never again casually chug Miller with his football-loving drinking buddies. Consequently, the big beer companies only run targeted ads in areas where the target group is disproportionately represented. I'm waiting for the day when the billboard installers accidentally mix up the ads for San Francisco and Houston, Texas.

The newsletter top product

Michael The "Newsletter Top Product" of this issue are the nose pacifier from Biore. Nose pacifier? Huh? This is what happens when a couple lives abroad for years and doesn't experience any corrective influence in their daily language use: they invent new German words for things they didn't know before. What do you call sticky patches that you stick on your nose to pull out blackheads from your pores? See, you probably don't know a word for that either. The French company Biore offers these practical patches here in the USA, which you stick on your moistened nose, wait ten minutes, then peel off and admire the blackheads that have been pulled out.

Fact is: Every now and then, you get a pimple on your nose. It's annoying and painful. But if you stick a Biore nose strip on every two months and effectively remove the blackheads with the inherent Biore super adhesive, it won't get to that point. Good mood thanks to Biore nose strips. If only I were on the Nobel Prize committee ...

New on TV: The Shield

But recently, a colleague at AOL drew my attention to "The Shield." I told my TiVo to record it for me, and what can I say, I was so electrified and shocked that I devoured the show from beginning to end without interruption. The show is insane, brutal, and unpredictable. It takes place in a police precinct in Los Angeles, whose chief, Aceveda, is a Latino who has worked his way up, wants to establish himself as a politician, and outwardly maintains a squeaky-clean image. However, behind the scenes, things get intense: The "Strike Force," consisting of the bald bruiser Vic Mackey, the unassuming gang-buster Curtis Lemansky, and the insanely dim-witted Southerner Shane Vendrell, solves stubborn cases, but mostly using illegal methods. Suspects are beaten during interrogations, confiscated cocaine is stolen, or nasty gang members who can't be legally caught are framed with a freshly fired weapon. Additionally, racial conflicts are fully played out and minorities are harassed, just like in any police precinct in the world. Addressing this in the USA is outrageous!

The fascinating thing about the show, however, is that the viewer sides with the thugs, as beneath their rough exterior beats a soft heart: they might take in the baby of a drug-addicted prostitute for a night or make evidence disappear that would incriminate someone who is actually innocent. Naturally, the police chief goes ballistic every time he learns about such actions and wants to get rid of the chaotic team, but somehow the street-smart Vic always manages to avert disciplinary complaints or mislead investigation committees, because he has eyes and ears everywhere and is on familiar terms with the underworld.

Additionally, there are other lovingly developed characters, such as Detective Wagenbach, who is generally called "Dutch" but is sometimes insulted as a "Nazi" because of his name. He is often despised as a wimp and a desk jockey. Then there's the Black officer Julien Lowe, who wants to be an "honest" cop but hides his homosexuality and is cruelly blackmailed by Vic, preventing him from testifying against the strike team.

Record of the Month

Michael Last month, I announced that I would review the new album by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. This band hails from Los Angeles and, for me, epitomizes California. Not the death penalty California or the white suburban double-garage California, but the California of chaotic cities like Los Angeles or San Francisco, where there are still crazy people like the Red Hot Chili Peppers who don't care about anything and exude new ideas. According to my favorite show "Behind the Music," their bassist "Flea" once hammered on his bass at a concert until he had a hole in his thumb! And from the series "Behind the Perl," I confide in you today that under the (almost exclusive) influence of the album "Blood, Sugar, Sex, Magik," I wrote "Effective Programming with Perl5" back then, a long, long time ago. Now it's out!

But, to my amazement, the record was number one on the German charts, and even the Bild newspaper, which I regularly read online to Angelika's dismay, had reviewed it! However, I have one more thing to add, which you probably won't learn from German media: "On Mercury," the 13th song on the record, has Mexican influences. Mexican folk music is quite comparable to German Oompah (beer tent) music and is as much a part of California as döner is to Bavaria. In the "Mission" district of San Francisco, you often see Mexican street gang cars (by the way, they prefer souped-up Acura Integras like our unsouped-up PERL MAN) cruising by, with Oompah music blaring and cool characters hanging their elbows out the window. The circle closes.

Greetings from the West!

Angelika and Michael