Just when I think nothing can shock me anymore, I realize that I’m in a place of never ending tragedy where there is absolutely no respect for life.
On April 18, yet another cop was killed. But this time it was different. This time his 8 year-old son Alejandro Martinez Cruz was killed too. They were in a car that was peppered with gunfire from both sides.
Now the most innocent have also become victims. Some people have justified the killings of cops by arguing that maybe they were involved in drug trafficking, that maybe they were with the bad guys. But, what justifies the murder of a child? The question itself makes me sick.
A little boy has nothing to do with the disgusting business of drug trafficking. Yet his life was interrupted by murderers who do not care, do not think and that frankly should not have the right to live.
The death of Alejandro has infuriated everyone, and destroyed the innocence of his classmates. The news showed images of children crying and questioning why the incident had happened. One of them said, “We played everyday. I’m going to miss him because he’s not going to come back.”
Children should not have to be worried about death and its meaning. They are barely starting to understand what living is. But times have changed and our moral values have deteriorated. Instead of playing and laughing, children are now crying out for help in the worst possible ways.
On April 19, 9-year-old Christopher Vera Tello, who had every right to live, committed suicide by hanging himself. He was left home alone while his parents went to work. Nobody wants to believe it. Some argue that it was an accident while he was playing. I suppose accepting it was a suicide forces us to think of things we are afraid of realizing. However, investigations have determined that it was a premeditated suicide.
Nobody is ready to understand how a child can decide to end his life. How he can become so desperate. I still picture boys dreaming of being astronauts and using their imagination to create wonderful stories. It is hard to imagine a child in so much suffering that he would rather die.
His 28-year-old mother, Maria Isabel Tello Cofi, got home from work a few minutes too late, she tried shaking Christopher, but he was already dead. Maria said that Christopher had been asking questions about death, and that months earlier he had witnessed the suicide of his uncle.
More than ever children are depressed and forced to deal with the reality of death, a reality that many of us refuse to accept because it is so tragic and demoralizing, but it is everywhere.
These incidents portray the black days we are living in. Children die everyday, but not like this; Alejandro murdered by dozens of gunshots and Christopher by hopelessly taking his life before his mother came home.
Everybody has an opinion about Juarez, but where does one begin to clean up this mess? This society is tired of politicians giving the same old useless speeches and the church condemning the violence. That is not enough.
In Mexico, April 30th is a big day. It is celebrated in every school. Parents buy their children gifts and parties are everywhere to celebrate the innocence and enthusiasm of a child. However, this month has been tainted. The innocence of children has been robbed.
Alejandra Gomez writes about Juarez for Newspaper Tree
Juan Arturo Muro
April 27, 2008
There's nothing uplifting to add to this story. These are tough situations with bleak outcomes; unfortunately, when we venture out into the street, we are all exposed to circumstances beyond our control.
In a tiny space in the back of one's mind there must be a thought-out plan of what to do if anything like a shooting crosses our paths.
We must react as best as we can: Dropping on all fours, shielding our children with our body, hiding under a parked car, clutching a rock or a pipe or a pointy stick, the adrenaline fine-tuning every fiber of one's body to the sounds, smells, and pictures of the mayhem being committed.
It is as if one senses every vibration of the cracking muzzle fire bursts--one's intelligence analyzes each repulsive, inevitable murderous droplet of lead exploding by and gauges the distance and proximity to oneself.
One tries to glance or not glance at the masked or unmasked men speeding off in the recent model SUV or double-cab, black-tinted window, short-bed truck.
In that micro-second, one's previous mental preparation will help the body decide its reaction: run, await the fate and hope for the best or fight--to whatever ultimate consequence.
If you happen to be caught in a cross-fire, this mental scenario and your body conditioning will interplay with luck, awareness, and other factors to hopefully, keep you alive.
In the aftermath of an event like this, we can only help the grieving families with moral support and a little money to help out with the costs of dying--and hope it does not happen to us when it occurs the next time.
It is terrible to live in a land where even upright, law-abiding, non-drug pushing/consuming people who are respected and liked by neighbors STILL have to live at the mercy of these carbine-toting animals.