When he crossed the U.S.-Mexico border, Spc. Richard Torres was carrying a small arsenal in his car: an AR-15 assault rifle, a .45-caliber handgun, 171 rounds of ammunition, several cartridges and three knives.

At a checkpoint, Torres didn't try to hide the weapons. But he insisted he hadn't meant to cross the border with the guns, which in Mexico are restricted for use only by the military. While searching for parking in El Paso, he said, he inadvertently drove onto a bridge leading to Mexico and could not turn around.

Now the Iraq veteran is in a Mexican jail while a judge decides whether to believe his account: that an experienced soldier accidentally ended up in a border town where drug cartels pay top dollar for exactly the kind of high-powered weapons he happened to have.

"I want to go home. I just want to go," Torres said last week at the jail in Ciudad Juarez.

Prosecutors have said only that the arrest reflected the government's commitment to battling "every type of delinquency and organized crime."

Torres, 25, said he had been driving all night to get from Fort Hood, in central Texas, to Fresno, Calif., where his mother lives. He planned to celebrate her birthday and put the weapons in storage while he deployed to Honduras to join the war on drugs. The guns were Torres' personal property and not required for his military duties.

He arrived in El Paso just after sunrise, he said, and decided to park, walk into Ciudad Juarez for breakfast, then get back on the road.

But during his search for a parking space, a gas station attendant seemed to direct him toward the bridge, Torres said. He crossed the Rio Grande and became concerned when he drove past signs warning him he was about to leave the U.S.

"Entering Mexico 1/2 mile," one green placard reads.

"WARNING," a larger sign reads, "ILLEGAL TO CARRY FIREARMS/AMMUNITION INTO MEXICO. PENALTY _ PRISON."

By then, he said, he had passed the only U-turn areas on the bridge, and it was too late to turn around because Torres had driven into vehicle-inspection lanes enclosed by concrete barriers.

He sought help from a Mexican border guard, who told him he could turn around further into Mexico. But 15 feet later, Mexican federal police stopped his car at a checkpoint. Torres, who does not speak Spanish, said he showed them the guns and his Army ID.

He was arrested and initially charged with smuggling illegal weapons, as well as possession of restricted guns and cartridges. He said he now faces only the gun-possession charge.

Court documents in Mexico are not public, and the U.S. consulate is not authorized to discuss his case. When American citizens are accusing of breaking a law in another country, the State Department generally does not intervene except to ensure the foreign government follows its own laws.

Investigators with the U.S. Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives concluded that Torres was not smuggling weapons into Mexico to sell them. ATF spokesman Tom Crowley said the agency reported its findings to Mexican authorities.

A lawyer has been appointed to Torres, but his case is mostly being handled behind closed doors. His Army assignment in Honduras is on hold.

At the jail, Torres said he sleeps on a thin mat on the floor of his cell, which has a bathroom and shower, that he shares with four other men.

He said he has managed to win over his cellmates, who have assured him of protection in the violence-plagued jail. They have also offered him food from their visitors, he said. One man loaned him a clean shirt.

"It's not as bad as the movies make it out to be," Torres said.

The jail operates on a cash system, and Torres relies on the U.S. consulate to bring him money from his wallet for phone calls or extra food. But that money is rapidly running out.

Maj. Steven Lamb, a 1st Cavalry Division spokesman, said Torres's absence from the military is not considered to be his fault _ but his future remains murky.

"There are just entirely too many variables," Lamb said.

Gloria Medina, who raised Torres as a single mother, said he wasn't a good student so she let him finish high school through a home-study program. He then stocked shelves at Wal-Mart and worked in construction before joining the Army two years later.

He's "grown into a fine young man," Medina said.

When he is released, Torres hopes to finish the final four years of his Army contract, then go into the tile business with a buddy and take care of his mother.

"She's been there for everything," Torres said.