It started one day in the early ’90s, when a white van stopped him in front of the Fruit Stand grocery store in Hastings and asked if he needed work. He did. But as soon as he met Evans he knew he had found trouble. Evans was mean in a way that made Goodman feel suddenly aware of how far out of town they were. There was no phone. Chain link and barbed wired surrounded the property. The crew leaders looked hardened, “like they just come out of prison.” The field workers called them henchmen.

One of them gave him a pair of bloodstained work boots.

“He said ‘These belong to the last guy who ran. If I catch you trying to get down that road, you’re going to answer to me too.’ ”

Eventually, Goodman ran anyway.

“I went through the ditch in the back of the camp. As soon as I got down the road I saw some lights behind my back. It was a white van. One of the henchmen grabbed me by the back of the neck, threw me in. That’s how they’d do you. You couldn’t go down that road.”

He never saw any money for his work. Rent was deducted from his wages and workers were only given credit at the company store in an age-old scam that left them immediately and perpetually in debt. Alcohol and crack cocaine were available on credit as well, feeding addictions and deepening obligations. Goodman was a drinker, and his debt piled up.

Occasionally he’d work up the courage to make a run for it, and one night it worked. From experience he knew to leave at 3 a.m., to leave his shoes behind to buy extra time, to get right through the drainage ditch, into the woods. He knew to stay still when the white van headlights scanned from the road, to move only after they passed. By 5 a.m. he made it into town and took shelter with another contractor, whom everyone called Jitterbug.

The next day Evans found him at the new camp, but Jitterbug wouldn’t let him come in. From the road, Evans promised he would get Goodman back eventually, and said it would be a sorry day for him when he did. But now Evans is in prison, and Goodman is smoking peachy cigars on the porch as free man.

From Slavery of migrant farmworkers continues in the US to this day

Jewel Goodman, 57, lights a cigar while sitting on the porch of his home in Hastings. For eight years he was held in what the Department of Justice would later call “a form of servitude morally and legally reprehensible” in its case against Ronald Evans. Evans is now serving a 30-year federal prison sentence. Below: A no trespassing sign hangs at the camp where Goodman was held against his will.



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