Families of Sect Victims Skeptical : Tragedy: They don’t believe the deaths of 12 at a religious ceremony resulted from accidental asphyxiation.

Families of the 12 people who died in a spiritualist prayer meeting gone awry held wakes for their dead Saturday, disbelieving and angry at the official finding that the victims died of accidental asphyxiation brought on by a malfunctioning butane lantern.

“Put down that justice needs to be done here, that someone is to blame and that somehow those of us who did not die will find an answer,” said Fidel Mondragon, 61, of East Los Angeles, whose daughter, son-in-law and two grandchildren died.

Tijuana coroner’s officials declared Friday that, based on preliminary autopsies, the 12 had died of carbon monoxide poisoning after being enclosed in a four-room house during a Wednesday night religious ceremony led by Federico Padres Mexia, a 61-year-old self-styled spiritualist, who remained in a coma Saturday.

“It was definitely an accident,” a deputy prosecutor said.

On Saturday, however, doctors attending six people who survived the ceremony were nearly as skeptical of the official cause of death as the victims’ relatives. Two of the survivors may have been bruised or beaten during the evening rite. Others, doctors said, suffered still-unexplained burns.

“As a doctor, it’s hard for me to accept carbon monoxide as the exclusive explanation,” said Dr. Ariel Perez Munoz, director of Social Security Clinic 20, a public hospital. Doctors said all six survivors had symptoms that were not necessarily caused by carbon monoxide poisoning alone.

Perez Munoz suggested that a combination of factors--including carbon monoxide, methanol possibly ingested during the ceremony and perhaps another poison--most likely caused the tragedy.

Blood samples have been turned over to the San Diego Medical Examiner for further tests, but Perez Munoz said that they may be inconclusive because the victims were found several hours after they had fallen unconscious.

“I feel that we are never going to find an explanation of exactly what occurred,” he said.

Relatives gathered Saturday at the government-run funeral home, where burial services were provided for about $250 a person, seeking someone or something to blame. Most were convinced someone--whether part of a suicidal mission or murder--had tried to kill their families.

If the 12 died because of a lantern, they asked, why were there screams of pain coming from Mexia’s house that night? Why did the daughter of one of the victims stand guard and refuse to let anyone in, claiming Jesus Christ was descending? Why did a survivor speak of drinking from a fruit punch that made people sick?

“We’re poor people, we’re humble people, but we won’t let them fool us into believing that this was an accident,” said Jesus Moreno, whose 14-year-old sister is among the dead and whose mother is in a coma.

Answers to the mystery may lie with the six survivors. But Mexia and two others apparently are in irreversible comas. Another survivor is an 8-month-old. The two other survivors are men who remain semi-coherent and may have suffered some brain damage, doctors say.

One is Moises Merida Gonzalez, 32, who had lain incoherent until Saturday, when he spoke for the first time with a reporter. He had a black eye and other injuries to his face. Asked what had happened to him, he answered only: “I was beaten.” Then he sat up and pulled his shirt over his head.

The other remaining survivor able to speak is Alfredo Osuna Hernandez, 22, whose wife is one of the dead. Still dazed, he said in a short interview Saturday that he did not understand what had caused the tragedy. He had a cut on his face and bruises on his shoulder, but said he could not remember how he got them. The last thing he could remember was several people, including his wife, getting sick and screaming.

“I tried to lift up my wife,” he said. “But I couldn’t.”

Asked why no one left to seek help, Osuna said they were all seated within a large rope circle, and Mexia had told them leaving would be “harmful” and break the spell. Moreover, he said, no one wanted to leave.

Others who had attended the sessions said the events generally opened with Mexia offering worshipers a perfume to rub on themselves as part of a ritual “cleansing.” Afterward, they said, Mexia would usually introduce a “medium.” The medium would stand in front of an armchair and appear to allow God to speak through her, they said.

For the feast of the Virgin of Guadalupe on Wednesday, Mexia had promised a “more powerful” medium from Rosarito Beach, identified by Osuna as Benita Rosales Villalpando. She and her husband are among the dead.

At some point--Osuna’s recollection of the exact sequence of events remains murky--the participants drank punch and Mexia poured alcohol over a tray of what he described as salts and ignited it. It smelled foul, Osuna said.

Osuna said the “spirit of the Virgin” then appeared and entered Rosales’ body.

“She fainted,” Osuna said. “Don Federico said not to worry, that it was not a problem and that she would wake up.”

The woman did awaken a few minutes later, but was vomiting, Osuna said. Soon, several in the room were fainting or retching. Others started screaming in pain.

“A force comes over you, you cannot help but scream,” Osuna said.

Yet, no one tried to seek help, Osuna said. They were all seated inside a large rope circle with 13 knots, and Mexia had told them leaving would be “harmful” and break the spell.

An 11-year-old boy who was standing outside later told reporters he heard voices screaming, “Help, I beg you!” He told his father of the screams, but was told to “stay away” from the house.

Clearly, Mexia’s brand of spiritualism struck a chord among some in poor neighborhoods like Colonia Mariano Matamoros, impromptu settlements of dirt streets, scrawny dogs and tar paper homes.

Mexia arrived several months ago with money enough to build a four-room home with stucco walls and a small satellite dish on top. Although he was apparently little more than a retired cement mason with a bad heart and a $100,000 home in Sun City, Calif., word circulated through the neighborhood that he could earn $4,000 a day north of the border.

What was so compelling about him was that he explained why workers have no work, why the prayers of the faithful went unanswered.

They were living under a spell of bad luck, he said, and he could cleanse them of the bad luck. Then Jesus Christ himself would descend right into their very neighborhood, and after it was all over, hotels would spring up and jobs would appear.

“He said God would come to us, that one could ask things from God and then have good luck,” said Ramon Sarabia, who attended one session with his late mother a few weeks ago. “People thought they would end up being better off.”

At the Funeraria Santa Estela in the Zona Norte, the crowded neighborhood that is the last stop for many immigrants planning to “jump” the border, four bodies lay side-by-side, the family of Rafael Corchado Meraz, a tortilla shop owner who was among Mexia’s first followers. Twenty relatives of his wife, Elodia, had caravaned from Los Angeles with Fidel Mondragon, Elodia’s father. They had bought a new white dress to bury Elodia in, and a pink ruffled one for her daughter, Monica, 11.

“We used to come to Tijuana and have happy times,” said Lupe Martinez, 16. “Now if we come, there will only be sadness.”

Times staff writer Patrick McDonnell contributed to this report.