Juan Soldado: Rapist, Murderer, Martyr, Saint (review)

Where does guilt end and faith begin? This seems to be the prevailing leitmotiv of this splendid exposition of the life and afterlife of Juan Soldado (Soldier), celebrated saint of Tijuana, Mexico. The book begins with a detailed accounting of the horrific rape and murder of an eight-year-old child, Olga Camacho, on February 13, 1938. The next day a young soldier, Juan Castillo Morales, was arrested, and he subsequently confessed to the crimes. Three days later, invoking the old Ley Fuga (the prisoner was told to pretend to escape as he stood before a firing squad), the soldier was executed. Almost immediately, blood began to ooze up from his grave and his ánima (soul) was reported to have begun to wail his innocence. A cult of lay votive devotion followed and continues to this day, with franchises of veneration expanding north into the United States and farther south into Mexico, joining a frontier pantheon of other renegade saints, such as Jesús Malverde, the alleged patron saint of drug dealers. Perhaps best described as a generalist in regard to what believers ask of him, not surprisingly Juan Soldado is also considered to be the protector of [illegal] immigrants.

Like that of most saints, the soldier's path to sainthood was fraught with violence and grief, and it is here that Vanderwood's grand gift for historical storytelling again becomes apparent. The 1930's were hard times just about everywhere in North America. The Depression had taken its toll on everyone. In Mexico, President Lázaro Cárdenas was nearing the end of a presidency that had brought hope to many but not to everyone. Worst of all, the Cristero Revolt and its aftermath meant that there was to be only one priest for every fifty thousand people. In 1938, Tijuana had a population of fifteen thousand. In the 1920's Prohibition had brought boom times to the city. Casinos, bars, brothels, resorts, and a state-of-the-art race track flourished. The number of tourists was three times that of locals. Many Tijuanenses fared well, and union activists were there to guarantee it. But Prohibition ended in 1933, and the Mexican government abolished gambling. Mexicans in the United States had been forced to leave during the Depression, and they congregated in Tijuana, waiting for better times.

Word spread quickly about the murder of Olga Camacho, and restive locals turned to mob rule, screaming for justice, torching the jail, and destroying whatever was in their path. The border was closed. In these circumstances, a terrified secret military tribunal sentenced the soldier to die. But once he was executed, the crowd became reflective, and some questioned his guilt. Contrition and despair; surely he was a martyr, which soon became the community sentiment. A shrine, feast day (San Juan Day, June 24) with mariachis singing "Las Mañanitas" (Happy Birthday), pilgrimages, statuary, and graveyard picnics were dedicated to his memory.

Today, Tijuana has a population of close to two million people, and it has many more priests in addition to a cohort of evangelicals. The Catholic Church's often conflicted position on such manifestations of popular religiosity was succinctly revealed in Tijuana's former Bishop Jesús Posadas y O'Campo's "God knows" (pp. 262-263). Most devotees are local Tijuanenses and most consider themselves Catholics. Many are middle-aged women, and all ask Juan Soldado to intervene on their behalf so that a favor will be granted. Judging by the monetary donations as well as the plaques, gifts, and thank-you notes, their wishes have been granted and they are eternally grateful.

Tijuana is so close to the United States that many wonder if it is even a part of Mexico. Moreover, for years it was a city without religion but ostensibly not one without...