Previously on the Fina Mendoza Mysteries... Ah, that's it.
I'm calling my boss.
If you're lucky, he'll just take away your family pass, or maybe he'll kick you out of the capital for the rest of your life.
But... Are you really going to get arrested, Abuelita?
No.
Maybe, but probably not.
What would Papa say?
Won't he be mad?
Arturo is my son, and he will love me no matter what.
But yes, he might be angry.
My name is Fina Mendoza.
I moved to Washington D.C. with my older sister Gabby because Papa works in the U.S.
Capitol.
He's a congressman.
I solve mysteries.
Abuelita, we saw you on the... Not now, mija.
I have to cook dinner.
Where's your grandmother?
Arturo, buenas noches.
I'm making dinner.
I'm not hungry.
Is something wrong, Arturo?
You know exactly what's wrong, Mama.
How could you?
Arturo, I was just expressing my.
The minority leader read me the riot act, called it a stunt, said I was grandstanding, using my own mother to pressure the Gang of Eight or the Gang of Five, as it is now, since a Democrat has dropped out.
Mijo, I was just exercising my First Amendment rights, my freedom of speech.
Well, your First Amendment exercise embarrassed me in front of my colleagues.
If that was your goal, Mama, congratulations, you succeeded.
I'm going upstairs to change, Mama.
But dinner?
I ate at the Capitol.
I'm going to make a few phone calls and see if I can undo this damage.
Good night Mama.
What did i do?
I, i have to.
I don't know what the figures are, so maybe i should try.
No, i have to.
I have to help the people here.
I have to help.
What just happened?
Papa was mad.
Really mad.
I always thought things would be better once Abuelita got here.
I thought Papa would come home in time to eat Abuelita's dinners.
We were wrong, Gabby.
Things aren't better.
They're worse.
Much worse.
What are you doing, Abuelita?
Where are you going?
Not now, mija.
Are you going on the casino bus to Baltimore?
Fina, you can help me by letting me think.
Vete.
Go away?
Gabby, let me in.
I'm busy.
Gabby, it's important.
Unlock the door, please.
What do you want?
It's Abuelita.
She's leaving.
What do you mean she's leaving?
She's packing everything.
Her toothbrush, that ugly garden angel statue, and even the graduation picture of Mama.
She's going away, Gabby, and I don't think she's coming back.
She can't do that.
Who would take care of you?
What are we going to do?
Papa's so mad at her.
I've never seen him so mad before.
Is he afraid of getting kicked out of Congress or kicked out of the Gang of Five?
And what are we going to do with that abuelita around?
You're going to have to skip marching band and go back to cooking br- I mean cooking dinner again.
We've got to get them to apologize to each other.
Ow.
I don't know.
I'm calling Papa.
We've got to stall Abuelita.
Where's her phone?
Plugged in and charging in the kitchen.
Go get it.
Hide it.
What difference will that make?
How is she going to call or write a share if she doesn't have her cell phone?
Go now.
Gabby, hi.
I told you not to disturb me during... I know, I know.
Not to disturb you during your gang of whatever meetings.
Papa, but listen.
You have to get home.
Right now.
It's Abuelita.
She's leaving.
Gotta go.
Come home.
Hurry.
Got her phone.
Now what do I do?
Hide it.
The sophomore door?
No.
That would be the first place she'd look.
The oven.
Fina!
I know.
The bookshelf in the living room.
The bottom shelf behind Papa's fat biographies of Lyndon Johnson.
Abuelita will never look down here.
She hates leaning over because it hurts her back.
I don't remember packing so many things.
Hey, Abuelita.
What's up?
I wonder when Papa's getting home.
I don't know, and I don't care.
Have you seen my cell phone?
Um, is that the one with the Las Vegas logo on the back?
Where is it, mijitas?
Where?
Where is what, abuelita?
My phone.
My phone!
Don't play dumb with me.
I am very disappointed in you, both of you.
I'm leaving, and that is final.
Lucky for me, your father's house is just three blocks from the subway.
Abuelita, you can't go.
Who will take care of us?
That is up to your father now.
Please, Abuelita, just talk to Papa.
I have nothing to say to your father.
And why not?
Talk to her, Papa.
I have a subway to catch.
It can wait.
Now let's go down into the kitchen and talk.
Fine.
You have to make her stay, Papa.
You have to.
Don't worry, mijitas.
What are you doing, Gabby?
What do you think I'm doing?
Listening.
Mama called eavesdropping a sin.
You always hear something you don't want to hear.
I want to hear this.
Say what you have to say, Arturo.
Be done with it.
Mama, what is this all about, really?
It's more than a disagreement over your immigration protest.
I came to Washington to be of use.
To help you and the girls.
The way I did in Los Angeles after Chris died.
But you do not need me anymore.
None of you.
Of course we need you, Mama.
Everything changed in those months you were living here.
Without me.
The girls have grown up.
They made it very clear that they are embarrassed by their grandmother, that they do not need me to walk them to school or offer an opinion about the clothes they choose to wear.
No, you're wrong, Mama.
They do need you.
I need you.
You are too busy to need me, mijo.
So I thought I would find someone who does.
Those immigrants with our papillas, they need me.
That's why I'm working on legislation, Mama.
And you have to let me do my job.
Talking to TV reporters makes that impossible.
Do you know how upset leadership was when the TV interview aired?
Called into the minority leader's office like I was an eighth grader, like I was caught smoking in the boys' bathroom.
Please, Mama, for my sake, for the sake of the cause you care so much about, stop, please.
I cannot, mijo, for once in my life.
I have a chance to make my voice heard. to make a difference in this world, I will not be silenced.
Not even by my own son.
This is not good.
Promise me you'll at least sleep on it, Mama.
Please.
Abuelita?
Mama?
Arturo.
Me voy.
Take good care of the girls.
I thought for sure Abuelita would be home by dinner time.
I'm hungry.
I guess I better find something to cook.
That's okay.
I'll order a pizza.
I don't understand.
Why hasn't she called?
We have to tell him, Gabby.
Tell me what?
I hid her phone.
You what?
I told Fina to do it.
We thought Abuelita couldn't leave if she couldn't call her ride share.
That's why she hasn't called you.
She doesn't have her phone, papa.
We're sorry.
Not to worry, mijas.
You were using your heads trying to keep her here.
Who are you calling, Papa?
Your Tia Catalina.
Hello?
Cat, it's me.
Do you know where Mama is?
What?
Did you lose her?
Not exactly.
We got into a fight.
She said she wasn't appreciated by anyone in this house and the next thing we knew she disappeared.
She isn't back in California by any chance?
No, Arturo, she's not here.
I'm calling the police.
No, no, no, wait.
Don't do that.
She's fine.
She called you?
Where is she?
Listen, Tutu, you know Mama.
She just needs to let off some steam.
Give her some time.
How much time?
Patience, Tutu.
Patience.
Patience.
Goodbye, Tutu.
Bye.
Hey, maybe she borrowed a computer and sent me an email.
Fina, what's this all about?
What's what all about, bubba?
Gabby, you order the pizza.
Here's my credit card.
With anything I want?
Sure.
Even pineapple?
Yes, but please make the call on your phone, upstairs.
Oh, I get it.
Good luck, Fina.
What's wrong, Papa?
I just got an email from the Capitol Police.
Oh.
It was that mean Capitol policewoman.
All I did was try to show her, Chick Charney, the bird that pooped on the president, but by the time she followed me over there, the bird had disappeared.
Maybe your grandmother was right, letting you run around the Capitol unsupervised, treating it like your own personal playground.
I wasn't playing, Papa.
I was detecting.
Enough, Fina.
If you put half the effort into your fractions, that you put into your detective hobby, It's not a hobby, Papa.
Monica needs me.
She needs to hear the message.
I need to hear the message.
What message?
It's a message for Monica about her restaurant.
Or it could be a message for... Fina!
Was it my fault, Papa, that Abuelita left us?
Miita, your grandmother's disappearance has nothing to do with you.
She's just mad at me.
What are you looking for, Papa? cookies.
We've got to have some around here somewhere.
Abuelita's been too busy to bake anything lately.
Ah, the last of the sugar cookies.
They're not homemade, but they'll do.
Want some milk to go with them?
They're pretty stale.
Sure.
I remember one time, Dee with Dom and I, we were really little.
And your abuelita, she found out we'd been playing down by the train tracks.
She yelled so much...
Her head practically exploded.
It scared me.
I didn't realize that she was scared too.
Scared that we'd get hit by a train.
Why were you playing by the train tracks?
Because Tommy and I love trains.
We'd seen the old ones at Griffith Park and wanted to see a real one up close.
I think Abuelita was right to yell at you.
I do too.
But she stopped being mad at you, right?
Eventually.
And eventually she'll stop being mad at me again.
And eventually Abuelita will come home?
I'm sure she will.
Can they really take away my family pass, Papa?
They can.
You are disrupting the work of the Capitol Police.
But Papa... Lucky for you, that's not what they're asking.
You can keep your pass, but you have to stay out of the Capitol.
At least for now.
You're only allowed inside unsupervised for two reasons.
One if you're on your way to look for me, or two if you have some official business in the capital.
But, Papa, I was there on official business.
I was looking for the bird that pooped on the president.
That is officially not your business, mija.
You are to, and I quote here from the email, leave the bird hunting to the professionals.
Do you understand?
But nobody's looking for the bird anymore except me and... Fina!
Yes, Papa.
I understand.
Do I get a punishment?
Hmm.
Why don't you clean up the cookie crumbs and set the table for our pizza?
But Monica still needs my help.
I have to find that bird.
The Fina Mendoza Mysteries are written and produced by Kitty Felde.
Our cast includes Amy Solano as Fina Mendoza, Christine Avila as Abuelita, Monica Vigil as Gabby, Imelda Hinojosa as Tia Catalina and Stephen Cuevas as Papa.
Andrea Felix-Cervantes is our stage manager.
Music is written and performed by Andrew Barkin, and our logo designer is Imelda Hinojosa.
Season 2 of the Fina Mendoza Mysteries podcast is based on the book State of the Union by Kitty Felde, published by Chesapeake Press.
Get an autographed copy of the book at the website chesapeakepress.org.
And that's also where you can find out more about the cast and the crew of the Fina Mendoza Mysteries and find a free download of the 56-page teacher's guide to the book and the podcast, just by signing up to our newsletter.
Every week, that newsletter includes facts behind the fiction in the Fina Mendoza Mysteries.
Next time on the Fina Mendoza Mysteries...
I know I could get into real trouble if I got caught inside the Capitol, but Monica needs me and nobody else seems to care.
Abuelita says sometimes you have to do something that makes other people mad if you want to change something that is wrong.
Ignoring Monica's bird is wrong.
That's coming up next on the Fina Mendoza Mysteries.
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Thanks for listening.
And now you can get the Spanish version of State of the Union, Estado de la Unión, translated by Jorge Flores Gonzalez.
It's published by Chesapeake Press and available now wherever great books are sold.
