Families of missing Mexican students face painful anniversary

MEXICO CITY A year later, the Guerrero de la Cruz family, divided between Dallas and the streets of the Mexican capital, still awaits the return of their loved one, or for justice, or whichever comes first. But there is no sign of either.

“The pain doesn’t numb you, and it doesn’t end. It just grows,” said Margarito “Don Benito” Guerrero, whose son Jhosivani had once dreamed of following in the footsteps of his father and two brothers to prune gardens in Dallas. But Jhosivani disappeared Sept. 26, 2014, with 42 fellow students, so-called normalistas from the rural teaching college known as Ayotzinapa.

As the anniversary Saturday of one of the most heinous crimes in modern Mexico approaches, the wound the Guerrero family carries has become emblematic of the more than 120,000 killings and disappearances across Mexico.

Ayotzinapa became a watershed case, a poignant example of “state futility,” said historian Sergio Silva Castaneda of the Autonomous Technological Institute of Mexico a harsh reminder of Mexico’s dubious rule-of-law. It has shaken Mexican society and has generated protests on social media and in the streets of cities throughout the world, including Dallas.

The Guerrero family, in both Dallas and Mexico, has stopped believing in their government, even disregarding the findings of international forensics experts, who said that the latest remains to be identified in the case are those of Jhosivani, 19.

On Wednesday, relatives of the 43 disappeared students, including the Guerreros, began a hunger strike in Mexico City’s main square, the Zocalo, protesting what they call a flawed investigation by judicial authorities. The strike was to last 43 hours, one symbolic hour for every student who vanished.

On Thursday, the families met with President Enrique Pena Nieto to call for an international investigation into the disappearances. A group of mothers is traveling to Philadelphia hoping to raise their case with Pope Francis during his visit.

“The only thing clear a year later is that the government lied to us, lied to its people,” said Eusebio Guerrero, a brother of Jhosivani living in Dallas. “At times we feel like giving up, but how do you move forward? You can’t.”

The disappearances have hurt the credibility of Pena Nieto. The government’s account, known as “historical truth” of events that the students were taken by drug traffickers, and then killed and cremated at a trash dump was challenged by an international inquiry led by a group of experts named by the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights. In their report, the experts found no “scientific evidence” to back up the government account and also raised new questions.

On the night of Sept. 26, police officers and drug cartel hit men are believed to have abducted the 43 students, who were aboard four school buses, and killed six other students or passersby in the Guerrero state town of Iguala. The experts’ investigation suggested that the gunmen may have attacked the buses to recover hidden drugs and money thought to have been hidden on one of them and headed for the U.S.-Mexico border. A fifth bus, possibly the one sought by the corrupt police and hit men, left the terminal about the same time, the investigation found.

“The Mexican government’s failure to clarify even basic details of these tragic events and to provide assistance to all of the victims and families still seeking answers is utterly unacceptable,” said Maureen Meyer, senior associate for Mexico at the Washington Office on Latin America, a nongovernmental organization that promotes human rights and social justice. “Everyone deserves to know the truth about what happened that evening and to see those responsible be brought to justice.”

A year ago, just hours after Jhosivani was confirmed missing, his brother Ivan did what was expected of the eldest of seven children. The gardener from Dallas raced home immediately and spent nearly a year searching through hills, ravines, trash dumps and clandestine graves throughout the state of Guerrero, looking for any sign of his brother. He found nothing.

Meanwhile, his father, Don Benito, sister Anayeli and other family members marched in protest through the streets of Mexico City, Iguala and Chilpancingo. Younger brother Eusebio stayed behind in Dallas, cutting lawns and pruning gardens to earn money to be wired home to help support the search.

Eusebio was haunted by the decision the family had made years before, when Jhosivani was a young teen. No, he couldn’t come to Dallas, they told him. Life as an unauthorized immigrant was a nightmare. The mood against immigrants was growing nastier by the day. Dallas was no place for him.

Instead, they told him, he needed to stay in Mexico, take advantage of the new, more modern Mexico opening up and offering opportunities, especially for those with an education. Jhosivani, a quiet teen nicknamed “Coreano” because of his Asian features, obeyed the family orders and aspired to become a teacher to help prepare a new generation of young people.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t think of those conversations,” Eusebio said. “Yes, it would have been hard for him, just like it is for us, but he would have been alive. Now, we just don’t know anymore.”

Two weeks ago, frustrated, broke and heartbroken, Ivan returned to Dallas with help from his former employer, who helped him obtain a temporary work permit. Ivan was determined to focus on work in the yards in Dallas, hoping that the familiar setting would free him emotionally and help him move forward.

But just 72 hours after Ivan returned, the dreaded phone call came: Austrian experts had identified the remains of a second victim among the 43 students. They said the remains were Jhosivani’s.

The family went into mourning, making no new postings on social media, no demands for justice. Calls weren’t returned.

Then the family broke its silence. Don Benito said he didn’t accept the findings. Argentinian forensics experts also cast doubt on them. The search for Jhosivani and fellow students would go on, with protesters determined to turn September, the month to celebrate the nation’s independence, into a time of mourning.

The rains in the capital city turned ferocious.

Victoriano Ortega, a vendor selling Mexican flags and other patriotic trinkets on Avenida Insurgentes, said business for the special month was slower than normal, but he didn’t blame the rain.

“What’s there to celebrate?” he said. “Ayotzinapa haunts us.”

(c)2015 The Dallas Morning News

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