Based on Ghost in the Rocks by RJ Luce

In Ghost in the Rocks, RJ Luce delivers more than a gripping eco-thriller. He offers a complex portrait of federal law enforcement on both sides of the U.S.–Mexico border—where the lines between protector and predator are as shadowy as the jungle trails and desert passes his characters navigate.

Luce’s protagonist, Jacob “Whip” Sawtell, a veteran wildlife biologist, is no stranger to working in cooperation with federal agencies. Yet, the moment he steps into the Yucatán forest to investigate the disappearance of his anthropologist friend, Charlie Davis, he quickly realizes that traditional systems of protection are compromised. When he later finds himself pursued through the jungle by armed men in camouflage—possibly military, possibly mercenary—the tone is set: in Luce’s fictional world, not all uniforms mean safety.

Luce doesn’t stop at Mexico. In fact, one of the most intense scenes in the novel takes place after Sawtell returns to Arizona to monitor wildlife corridors. Perched near a remote mountain pass, Sawtell becomes the target of unknown shooters—men with assault rifles and night vision. As he escapes and attempts to report the incident, he is intercepted by U.S. Border Patrol agents. But rather than protect or investigate, the agents violently detain him, mock his profession, and treat him with suspicion. The agency that should be upholding law and order instead becomes a tool of aggression and intimidation.

The agents—identified by aliases and acting with unchecked power—represent a critical view of post-9/11 border enforcement culture. In this portrayal, Luce reflects real-world criticisms of the militarization of the U.S. Border Patrol and its erosion of civil liberties, especially in remote areas where oversight is minimal. Even as Sawtell explains his work with the University of Arizona, his identity is disregarded, his movements questioned, and his life placed at risk.

Meanwhile, Mexican authorities are nearly absent, hinted at only through corrupt gatekeeping and unspoken threats. The disappearance of an entire team of archaeologists goes largely unacknowledged by local law enforcement. The implication is chilling: those who threaten corporate or criminal interests—especially environmental and academic investigators—are disposable.

Still, Luce does not cast all agents of the state as villains. Through characters like Dan Quinn, a law enforcement officer with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and one of Sawtell’s trusted allies, he acknowledges the crucial role that ethical enforcement officers play in preserving both public safety and ecological integrity. It’s not the profession itself Luce indicts—it’s the abuse of authority and the institutional rot that can seep in when justice takes a backseat to politics or profit.

Ghost in the Rocks blurs the line between thriller and documentary. By threading real laws, documented abuses, and existing agencies into his fictional narrative, Luce shines a light on the fragility of justice in contested lands. He compels us to ask: What happens when those charged with protecting us become indistinguishable from those we’re protected against?

In Luce’s hands, federal conflict isn’t just a backdrop—it’s a battleground. And in today’s world, that makes his novel more than fiction. It makes it essential reading.