On the first anniversary of 9/11, four men huddle on a busy street corner in Douglas, Arizona, clutching armfuls of homemade crosses and pretending not to notice the steady drizzle or the lightning strikes illuminating the nearby Mexican mountains. After a brief prayer for "our brothers and sisters who are so angry," the men begin to move up the puddled sidewalk. Every few feet, one of them holds a cross above his head and yells out the name of a victim over the sound of sloshing tires:
"Jesus Vidal Ramirez."
"Presente!" the other three answer.
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