Raymundo “Ray” Garza, 62, retired border patrol K9 handler turned part-time dog trainer, had avoided every community event in his San Antonio subdivision for three straight months. His wife had left him eight years prior, and he’d grown so set in his lone-wolf routines he barely spoke to neighbors unless it was about their unruly dogs. The reason for his recent boycott was simple: Marnie Cole, 58, HOA board president and owner of the downtown flower shop, had slapped him with a $175 fine after his rescue rottweiler, Duke, dug up the community rose bed planted by the local elementary’s 2nd grade class. He’d called her a tinpot tyrant to his buddies over beer, and ignored every reminder email she sent, even when she hand-delivered a note to his porch. He’d hidden behind the curtain when she knocked.
The October food truck rally was the first event he couldn’t skip. His buddy’s brisket truck was making its first appearance, and Ray had promised to stop by, a stash of his homemade pork tamales tucked in the pocket of his worn denim jacket for trade. The air still held the faint stick of daytime heat, cut with the smell of smoked meat, elote slathered in cotija cheese, and cherry limeade fizzing in plastic cups. He was three people back in line when he caught the scent of jasmine cut with barbecue smoke, and felt a soft elbow brush the scar on his left forearm, the one he’d gotten from a drug runner’s knife in 2017.