25 min.
911 ON THE BORDER
THE TWO GUATEMALAN BOYS huddled under a shiny black blanket that reflected the moonlight. It was their first night alone. Their only link to family was a cellphone, so they texted their uncle, Carlos D.L., in California: “Tío conteste, nos dejaron tirados.” Uncle, they left us here.
Nine nights earlier, around 3 a.m., the boys had crossed the U.S.-Mexico border in Sonoyta with around 15 others and a smuggler. They trekked across the Sonoran Desert, up and down rugged hills and across dry washes, with garlic rubbed on their shoes to repel snakes. J.G., who was 18 at the time, and his 20-year-old cousin, K.G., carried 50-pound backpacks with jerky, Maruchan cup noodles, energy drinks and the Paris Saint-Germain soccer jerseys they’d purchased in Mexico. The four one-gallon bottles of water…
