Can't sight media.

Lika Miller's dad was a smuggler.

My dad was basically a small time border selling out to the locals type dude and he didn't

really do it for money because we were always broke.

Buddy liked to smoke and he liked to drink and he thought smuggling a little drugs here

and there part of the adventure itself.

That kind of amateur outlaw stuff was actually pretty common along the US-Mexica border in

the 1980s.

Lika and his dad lived on that border in a little village on the Mexican side called Paso

Lejitas.

It was literally a stone's throw from the Rio Grande, next to an unofficial unpatrolled

crossing, a place where you could just drive your truck through the shallow river to get

to the other side.

Life in Paso Lejitas seemed kind of timeless.

People shared meals, took turns at chores, watched over each other and they liked Lika's

dad.

He was worldly and kind.

Sometimes stepping in to teach the children when he wasn't off on some escapade.

But this thirst for adventure, it would catch up with Lika's dad.

He got in the way of the wrong people and so did Lika.

It was a balmy spring night in March 1987 and Lika had been out all day with his brother.

When the two 15-year-olds got home, it was dark and the boy sensed something was off.

...