You’re Danged if You Do and You’re Danged if You Don’t
July isn’t really the month that most people, even game wardens, associate with illegal hunting in the wee hours of the morn. But at times, it’s a thing.
It’s not a thing game wardens like to necessarily do, because the number of hours you have to put in to maybe, or probably not, catch someone isn’t worth it. July is best spent working fishermen and water safety and that kind of stuff.
But Retired Game Warden Jesse Garcia was never one to follow trends or go with the flow. Throughout his 31-year career, he was all about catching the guys that were good at not getting caught. And that’s just what he was up to sometime after midnight on July 7, 2001.
Duke Bridge Road in Goliad County is one of those roads that has some open range in between a couple of cattle guards where, if you’re driving it at night, you need to pay extra-close attention to be sure you don’t wreck your ride into somebody’s cow or something.
It’s also one of those places where poachers sometimes take advantage of the lack of fences and the remote location to trespass and/or hunt illegally.
Jesse was parked in a pasture off Farm-to-Market 239 near Duke Bridge Road that afforded a nice view of the area.
Around 1:35 a.m., he saw a vehicle slowly heading his way. When it got close, Jesse could see a dog trotting out in front of it. When it went by, Jesse dropped in behind it with his lights off.
Jesse was following about 100 yards behind when the vehicle in front of him hit the brakes and came to a stop. Then, the passenger door opened, and the dog was picked up and placed inside. Go time. Jesse closed the distance and flipped on the red and blues.
The vehicle stopped. Jesse turned on his flashlight and walked up to the driver’s side door.
“State Game Warden. I need to see your driver’s license and insurance.”
The driver, wearing blood spattered hunting apparel and a dog leash around his shoulders, stepped out and began thumbing through his wallet. Jesse asked, “What’s with the dog in front of the vehicle?”
“I was picking up the dog,” the driver said.
“You wouldn’t be out here hunting, would you?”
“No,” said the driver. There were three similarly dressed and blood-spattered passengers and a total of six dogs in the vehicle, a Chevy Blazer. Jesse got the next guy out.
“What are y’all doing out here with the dog?”
“Nothin’ much,” was all the guy allowed.
Jesse got the next guy out and asked the same question.
“I guess we were trying to find a hog,” the guy said.
Then, Jesse got the last guy out. Same question.
He responded, “The dog kept getting out.”
Hmm. After an awkward pause, the guy said, “I’m not gonna lie, we are out hunting, I guess.”
That’s all Jesse needed to hear. He called a sheriff’s deputy out to help gather evidence, corral the dogs, and transport the four men to the Goliad County Jail where they were booked in for Hunting from a Vehicle on a Public Road.
You know, I guess you gotta give those first two dudes their due.
Despite being confronted with irrefutable evidence of that which they shouldn’t have done, they still looked Jesse in the eye and denied it all.
They were loyal to a fault. But give credit to the other two dudes too.
They took in the totality of all that had been said and done, did the math, and figured that honesty, or some semblance thereof, was the best policy.
Of course, they all went to jail just the same, thus reinforcing that old adage “you’re danged if you do and you’re danged if you don’t” – for poachers, anyway.
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