SAN ANTONIO — The woman wearing a black blouse, jeans and sunglasses resting on top of her head walked toward the dirt road between a waste management company and the train tracks on the city’s outskirts, the place where an employee of a nearby business had found the bodies of dozens of migrants inside a trailer four days earlier.
She was accompanied by a family member who lives in the area and Alex Salgado, a Houston-based immigrant rights advocate, who held an umbrella over her head to cover her from the blazing July sun.
The trailer had already been hauled away. So she sat on a chair in front of a growing memorial adorned with plush teddy bears, flowers and gallons of water laid below a long line of 6-foot-tall crosses with the names of the victims of the nation’s deadliest migrant smuggling tragedy.
As artist Roberto Márquez hung a Honduran flag on one of the crosses he’d erected on this semi-rural road, the woman rose from her seat and rested her hand on it. The cross was embossed with her daughter’s name: Adela Betulia Ramírez Quezada.
Gloria Quezada began to cry uncontrollably.
Onlookers who had come to pay their respects to the dead turned at the sound of her sobbing. Soon many of them wiped tears as Quezada continued to cry.
“I felt destroyed, to know that my daughter’s body was there,” Quezada said in an interview later that day. “I imagined her without air, without being able to breathe, knowing she left Earth. I imagined throwing myself on her, being able to hug her, but knowing that I can only imagine her now.
“The reality is she’s gone, and the only thing left now is the cross with her name,” she said. “My little girl is gone.”
“The reality is she’s gone, and the only thing left now is the cross with her name,” she said. “My little girl is gone.”[ad_2]