The weather in South America is as unpredictable as they come. "Four seasons
in one day" one man said, "changing between extreme wet and dry periods." A
helicopter flies over a vast lake, its rotors creating a wind on the jungle
vegetation below. Juno Mining in imprinted on the side of the craft. The
lake is riddled with dug out canoes and divers resurfacing. Men stand around
in overalls , scattered amongst the natives, again with the Juno Mining
branding as equipment and rigging is installed into the area. South
America's untapped reserves and newly adopted neoliberal economic stance are
attracting mining companies from all over the globe to take advantage of its
wealth of untouched resources. Juno Mining is one such company. The foreman
of the project stands holding documents, as he watches a truck trapped in
the mud.  Despite the tugging and pushing of many hearty men, the truck
stuck hard to the muck, its wheels spinning hopelessly, spitting smoke and
chewed earth into the air. As the truck broke free one of the native men run
over in a terrified panic, closely followed by another man holding something
wrapped in wet cloth. "la muerte esta aqui" he shouted over and over.

Simply translated "Death is here"

In Braddock County, a small house in the suburbs decaying with age stands
with a history as old as Texas itself.

An old gramaphone plays "Serenade in Blue".  Black and white photos line the
fireplace, and a cross with a statue of the virgin Mary hangs on the wall.

Pamela Ewing sits on an old chair looking through a dusty old box as the
music plays.

Cliff walks in. "Hey do you think any of these old vinyls are worth
anything?" he asks.

Pamela shakes her head. "Cliff is that all you can think about?" she asks.

"No no, just asking." he says.

Pamela pulls out an old photo and smiles "Look at this Cliff.  That's you
and me and Jimmy.  So long ago." she says as she thinks back.

Cliff looks and laughs. "I can't believe Aunt Maggie kept all this stuff."

Pam sighed. "Well she did bring us up Cliff.  She was the nearest thing we
had to a mother "

Cliff laughs "Well I bet wherever she is now, she's with Digger.  Still
trying to keep him in line."

Pam smiles and pulls out another photo. "Hey heres one of Digger and Jock."

"Let me see that." Cliff asks.

Cliff takes the photo "Hard to believe they were friends.....a friendship
that has torn this family apart ever since."

Pamela pulls out another photo "Who's this?" Pamela asks.

She passes the old photo of a man and woman over to Cliff.

"The man seems familar." Cliff says "Must of been taken in the 30's." he
notices.

"Maybe Miss Ellie would know." Pamela says slipping the photo into her bag.

Pamela gets up and kisses her brother on the cheek.

"I'll see you later. I have to run."

"Sure thing, Sis, I'll see you later."

Pamela leaves the room, as Cliff sits and looks around, placing the box on
the floor.

At the top of the box is an open envelope that is unoticed. A letter
containing a family secret that has been kept hidden for over 50 years.

Southfork Ranch stood tall as the afternoon sun shone down with the sounds
of cattle blurred in the distance.

A cab with its engine running sat outside the great Southfork gates. A young
girl of fifteen sat in the backseat, watching the ranch. She looked sad, her
dark hair slightly messy and her cheeks tear stained.

"Well honey?" the driver asked

The young woman was Maragert Krebbs, daughter of Ray and Donna. Donna had
left Dallas when Margaret was just a baby, leaving Magararet estranged from
her father Ray.

"Can you take me back to town please? I've changed my mind." she said
quietly.

The man sighed.

"Whatever." he replied and began to drive off.

Margaret looked out the window, and watched the ranch fall into the distance
as the car drove off.