Blog #049 – Are We Going To Jail?

We’re safely out of Panama and in Costa Rica now so we decided it was time to share an unusual event.

Are We Going To Jail? This is just about how things could have gone today. Thank God they didn’t! It all started while we were having our coffee and listening to the morning net on channel 68. One of our friends, Paul made an odd statement. He said, “Make sure you all pay your $5.00 to migration.” We looked at each other and said, “What 5.00?” So we asked what he was talking about? He explained that every 90 days you must pay $5.00 to migration if you have a mariners visa – yep, we do. It’s a one year visa for cruisers and so we asked how it affects us if we didn’t know about the $5.00? He said it’s a $50 fine if you are even one day late. $50, Oh crap! We’ve been here five months and did not know about this. How did we not know about this? So this generated a long discussion on the net and people said it’s all very clear just read your migration paperwork. We looked and we did not have any migration papers in all of our check-in file. Someone asked what day they had stamped on our passports. We checked…..oh, crap!……no stamps! What???

So what’s the fine for not having your passport stamped into the country for almost five months of being here? Hmmm…On July 3rd, 2017 when we arrived we had several different government agents onboard our boat for an hour. They looked at our passports and we gave them copies, we paid $220 in fees. We were told everything was complete. Did we check our passport for stamps – of course not, it was assumed they would stamp it. Migration was one of the agents on-board. (ya, ya…I know what assumed stands for).

We went to the Port Captain first and looked around for wanted posters on the wall. Ok, it looks like he did not get the memo. I checked all the telephone poles for our pictures to see if I could collect a reward for turning Liana in…no pictures. We gathered all the cash we had in case we might be able to bail each other out or needed it to bargain for smokes and pastries in prison. We wondered what a Panama prison is like? Will they put us in with the general population or with the hardened criminals? Will they put us on bread and water or will we get hot meals? Do you think we will be in orange or stripes? We had lots of questions at this point. The Port Captain said our paperwork looked good, except – “How come migration did not stamp your passport?” Good question. He said we all came out to your boat together – “Was there a problem?” We answered no, not that we recall. We must be careful in these foreign countries they may use what we say against us. I wonder, do we need an attorney or some guy to break us out… who would we call if we needed that?

So the Port Captain did not put us in hand cuffs yet, no leg irons, he did not even have anyone guard us like in the movies where they finally catch the fugitives. After many words over the phone speaking for a long period of time in Spanish and glancing back at us, I presume to see if we were going to make a break for it, he shook his head a lot and used the word Americanos as if we were part of some unsavory group. But to our surprise he sent us off on our own to go to the local airport and meet with a migration agent.

I believe this was to give us a chance to run so they could release the attack dogs on us kinda like toying with our lives. We did not take the bait. However, we considered stowing away on the next outbound flight that was warming up on the runway. We could have made a run for it like in James Bond and grabbed the landing gear with them chasing us. We would just dodge a few bullets and we would be free. But we controlled the urge to flee and knocked on the office of migration. A large woman pretended as if she did not know why we were there and had us take a seat. Before we went in Liana said to let her do all the talking and she just might keep us out of jail. I said ok I have your back. I looked over all the exits and counted all the guards I may have to take out while she conversed with the dark skinned official.

The clock was ticking, soon she would know we were the fugitives they were looking for and if she flinched we would be making a run for it. She didn’t flinch. She played it cool. She said our paperwork all looks fine except – “Why did you not check-in with migration?” It was a cold blooded question, I was pretty sure she was baiting the trap. Well, Liana played it cool and dodged the question like a professional negotiator and said, “Isn’t your office responsible for sending someone out to the boats for this purpose?” She wasn’t expecting us to know the procedure and said, “Well yes..unless..well, we might have been too busy or in a meeting or something.” Then Liana and I both knew at the same time who she was. We had seen this lady before, on our dinghy when we checked-in to the country. She was the one – it was her all along – hiding behind the badge and the pressed white shirt. It was her. She did come to the boat but was to afraid to climb the ladder. She was afraid of water and small boats and clung to our dingy like she was trapped in a tippy life boat in the middle of the Indian Ocean with rabid tiger sharks waiting for her to slip up. She was the one who failed to stamp our passports. She is the culprit. If this was a trap we have figured out their plan and have fingered the one who set us up.

She fumbles through file cabinets and records and says she is calling her superiors. The burning question for us was why? Were they going to pin false charges on us and turn us into spies if we wanted to keep our freedom – quid pro quo? Were we being set up to smuggle coffee from Columbia for Starbucks. We had lots of questions…maybe the cartel was trying to put Juan Valdez out of business and we were going to be the mules to smuggle their coffee to customers. Whatever it was, this could not end well for us. But one thing we knew. She knew, we knew, she knew, and we knew too… so anything could happen next…like in the showdown at OK Corral. Liana looked her in the eye and migration lady blinked. She quickly grabbed our passports and stamped them July 3, 2017 and scribbled initials under the stamp and told us, ok no problem we took care of it.

In shock Liana and I asked what’s next? How big of a fine? How much jail time with good behavior? How much do we owe The Godfather for fixing it? “Nothing,” she said, “we made it a six month visa for you. That’s all Good-bye.” Our thoughts were going crazy…You mean they are not going to impound our boat or fine us hundreds of thousands of dollars payable in Swiss franks! No jail time..no pound of flesh…how could this be…

Then we remembered. We knew why. We prayed. Praise God, we whispered under our breath as we calmly backed out of her office. So that was our morning how was yours?
Love Steve & Liana
PS: I’m sure this will be a blog….but not til we get out of Panama!