BORDER PATROL SHOOTING RESONATES WITH MANY PEOPLE

FABENS, Texas -- The prairie where it all happened is quiet now. A sign
rests near a muddy ditch, "Stop Illegal Immigration," left behind by
protesters who have visited in homage to two former Border Patrol agents,
imprisoned for shooting a drug smuggler in the backside as he sprinted to
Mexico.

It seems almost unimaginable that one moment in this lonely place ignited
the furor that rages two years later.

A jury convicted the agents of assault, obstruction of justice and civil
rights violations. A federal judge meted out punishment: 12 years for Jose
Alonso Compean; 11 for Ignacio "Nacho" Ramos.

As the two men surrendered last month, demonstrators took to the streets,
shrieking: "What kind of America do we have?" There have been hateful phone
calls to prosecutors, warnings to President Bush from some fellow
Republicans in Congress, demands for an independent probe and a pardon.

"Commended illegal immigration heroes," one Web site christened the
convicted officers, whose supporters are disgusted that the so-called
victim -- "a doper" -- went free, while the agents sit behind bars for
"doing their job."

But what happened that February day in 2005 isn't as black and white as the
"us vs. them" spin on the airwaves and the Internet, where facts are
fleeting in the ever-emotional debate over the nation's borders.

Consider one fact missing from the cyberspace chatter: In the El Paso
Border Patrol sector, where Compean and Ramos were assigned, agents have
fired their weapons 14 times in the line of duty since 2001. Each of those
shootings, except one, was ruled a justifiable use of force, according to
the U.S. Attorney's Office in San Antonio -- a "good shoot," in Border
Patrol parlance.

The exception was the Compean-Ramos case.

"They knew it was a bad shoot," a federal prosecutor told jurors at their
trial.

This case is different not simply because of the debate it inflamed but, as
an Associated Press review of court documents, transcripts and exhibits
shows, because of what transpired in a few life-changing moments on that
prairie.

It was 1:11 p.m. on Feb. 17, 2005, 30 miles east of El Paso in a hamlet of
cotton fields called Fabens.

Agent Compean, a Border Patrol officer for five years, was on the radio
calling in some tripped sensors. He alerted his fellow officers that he
suspected some sort of drug transaction was under way, and the agents of
the Fabens Border Patrol station quickly responded.

Oscar Juarez was in his vehicle not far from the Rio Grande, holding the
line against a group of illegal immigrants waiting for just the right
moment to cross over from Mexico, he would testify.

Nacho Ramos, a 10-year veteran, was having lunch at the station.

They, and five other agents, responded. Juarez followed the van north into
Fabens. He hit his overhead lights, but the van sped up and headed back
south toward the border. Ramos joined in the pursuit.

"We got this baby," Juarez radioed at 1:19 p.m.

The van came to a stop at the edge of a steep sewage ditch. Beyond it,
facing south, was a slight incline, then a levee road and an open vega, or
prairie, about half a football field in length. Beyond the vega: the Rio
Grande, then Mexico.

Ramos pulled up behind the van, followed by Juarez. Compean parked his
truck on the levee road. The van driver, Osvaldo Aldrete Davila, got out
and ran for the canal.

"Parate! Parate!" Compean shouted, Spanish for "stop."

Compean pointed his shotgun at Aldrete. The driver raised his hands; they
were empty, Compean, Juarez and Aldrete would all agree. At least two men
- -- Aldrete and Compean -- reported hearing another agent say, "Hit him."
Compean swung his weapon, Juarez testified, but lost his balance and fell
into the ditch, dropping his shotgun. Aldrete took off, headed for Mexico.

The stories diverge from there.

Juarez testified that he was walking toward the van when he heard shooting,
turned and saw Compean firing his handgun. Compean reloaded, he testified,
fired a few more shots and then dashed into the vega.

Contradicting that, Compean insisted he recovered from his fall and managed
to tackle Aldrete, who threw dirt in his face and took off running again.
Compean said he started shooting because he thought he saw something
"black, shiny" in the suspect's hand. Testimony revealed that Compean fired
about 14 times.

Ramos said he heard gunfire, ran into the vega and saw Compean on the
ground. He fired once, he said, because "I believed I saw a gun."

Compean and Ramos walked back toward the ditch. Some 743 pounds of
marijuana were inside the van.

Aldrete testified that he never had any gun or anything "shiny" in his
hands. More striking were the agents' own conflicting stories and actions
- -- and the trial testimony of other Border Patrol officers.

In a written statement, Compean said Ramos was "standing next to me" when
Ramos took the final shot. At trial, Compean testified that he was on one
knee and getting to his feet when Ramos ran by him and fired.

Compean said Aldrete "looked like he was limping." At trial Ramos
testified, "I didn't see him limping."

Border Patrol policy requires that all weapon discharges be reported
verbally to a supervisor within an hour. Once an agent-involved shooting is
reported, a sector evidence team is dispatched to determine whether the
shooting was justified. The FBI is called. The fired weapon is held for
examination.

None of this occurred that day.

Neither Compean nor Ramos reported the shooting. Instead, Compean admitted
he picked up and disposed of his spent bullet casings. Compean also failed
to mention the gunfire in his report, stating only: "The driver was able to
abscond back to Mexico."

Compean did tell at least two other agents he fired at the driver. One was
Art Vasquez, who testified that he found, at Compean's request, five other
shell casings -- and threw them into the drainage ditch.

Vasquez and other agents and supervisors on the scene all testified that
neither Compean nor Ramos ever told them that the suspect had something
that looked like a gun.

Border Patrol brass in El Paso and investigators at the Department of
Homeland Security's Office of Inspector General learned of the shooting two
weeks later from an agent in Arizona. His mother-in-law had received a call
from her childhood friend, Aldrete's mother, whose son was claiming he'd
been shot by the Border Patrol.

Retired Border Patrol agent David Ham, a former assistant chief in El Paso,
trekked out to the shooting scene, to see it for himself as outrage grew.

"They're picking the wrong guys to make heroes," he said.

Ramos' lawyer said the case represents a contradiction between "the reality
on the riverbank and the bureaucracy of regulations."

"They're out there in life-and-death situations, and then when something
happens -- just to hell with them?" asked attorney Mary Stillinger.

Appeals are planned, and calls for a presidential pardon have intensified
following reports that Ramos was beaten in prison.

Two jurors also signed affidavits saying they did not think Ramos and
Compean were guilty of some counts. Another juror, who asked to be
identified only as Bob G., told the AP he stands by his decision.

"They were clearly guilty," he said. "This thing, 'They were just doing
their job.' Well, what kind of job were they doing?"

It's true, that until that day, the agents had been productive employees,
said Luis Barker, retired chief of the El Paso Border Patrol sector and the
agents' former boss. It's also true that the smuggler, whose urethra was
severed in the shooting, was given immunity in exchange for his testimony.
He has filed a $5 million claim with the government.

"But the rule of law still applies," Barker said. "The long and short of it
is, the system worked as it should have."