Oh my goodness! My dear friends, fellow morbid enthusiasts, and seekers of unfiltered truth. If you were among those who felt a chill run down your spine yesterday afternoon when you saw that incomplete news alert on Facebook, let me tell you, you weren’t alone. It was a moment of collective panic, a sinister premonition that resonated throughout the neighborhood.
There it was, the headline, blood red, urgent, screaming danger. And those three dots, that damned “…See more” that acts like the Devil’s hook, pulling us over the abyss. But your humble servant, El Tundemáquinas Ramírez, risking his neck and his sanity, rushed to the scene, where Calzada Ermita Iztapalapa becomes a racetrack for the reckless, to bring you the real deal.
And what we found, guys, HOLY CRAP! What we found is worse than hitting your mother on her birthday. The story behind the clickbait is a real tragedy that desperately needs to be addressed.
WHO WAS THE ANGEL WHO LEFT US? LUPITA’S DAILY STRUGGLE
To understand the magnitude of the void this tragedy leaves, you have to know the victim. She wasn’t just another statistic, not at all! We’re talking about María Guadalupe “Lupita” Sánchez, a young woman of just 24 years old, but with the strength of an oak. A single mother, one of those lionesses who work tirelessly from sunrise to sunset so that her cub never goes hungry.
Lupita sold tamales and atole every morning outside an elementary school. “The one with the delicious tamales,” the neighbors called her. Always with a smile, even though inside she was exhausted from getting up at 3 a.m. to cook. She did it all for her driving force, her reason for being: little Estrellita, a 6-year-old girl with capulin-colored eyes who was her mother’s pride and joy.
Their dream was simple, my friends: to save up for school supplies, pay the rent for the tiny room where they lived, and, God willing, save enough to open a proper shop. But Death, she who respects neither age nor dreams, had other macabre plans.
THE CHAOS: WHEN HELL CAME DOWN ON FOUR WHEELS
It was 7:30 p.m. yesterday, Thursday. Lupita and Estrellita were already on their way back to their home after a long day. They were walking along the sidewalk, tired but happy because it was almost time for dinner and to watch TV together.
Witnesses—the little lady at the corner store who sees everything, and the taxi driver who knows everything—say the atmosphere was calm. Suddenly, the silence was broken by the roar of an engine that doesn’t belong on these potholed streets filled with minibuses.
A matte black BMW, one of those that costs more than you and I would earn in ten lifetimes, appeared out of nowhere. It was coming “at high speed,” weaving, eating up the restricted lane and running red lights like they were Christmas decorations.
Inside, the driver, a man of about 22 years old whom the neighborhood had already identified as “El Richie,” the son of a wealthy man from the Polanco area, was, according to unofficial reports (because the cops always try to cover up the truth), completely wasted, and who knows what other dirty stuff he’d taken.
The car lost control. It was a matter of seconds, my friends. The luxury sports car mounted the sidewalk right where Lupita and her little girl were sitting.
THE LAST ACT OF LOVE: THERE IS ONLY ONE MOTHER
This is where the story gives you goosebumps and makes you cry. Those who saw everything say that Lupita didn’t think about running. No way! Her mother’s instinct was faster than lightning itself.
Seeing that the metal monster was coming towards them, Lupita grabbed Estrellita and pushed her with all her might towards a hidden doorway, taking her out of the deadly path.
BANG! The sound was dry, terrible, as if the world had broken.
The BMW hit Lupita head-on. There was no chance, no miracle. Her young body flew several meters until it lay motionless on the cold asphalt, while her tamale cart was smashed to pieces, scattering the masa and corn husks like tragic confetti from a party no one wanted to attend.
THE DANTESQUE SCENE: CRYING, BLOOD, AND A COWARD TRYING TO FLEE
What followed was absolute chaos. Little Estrellita, saved by her mother’s push, got up scraped and dazed. Seeing her mother lying there, she ran towards her shouting, “Mommy! Get up, Mommy, let’s go!” Those cries, my friends, those cries of shattered innocence, broke the hearts of the entire neighborhood, who were already starting to come out of their houses when they heard the thud.
This “Richie” kid, the murderous young man, tried to escape. He tried to reverse his car, which was wrecked in the front, but the people from the neighborhood attacked him. “You’re not getting away from here, you son of a bitch!” the enraged neighbors shouted. All hell broke loose! They were about to lynch him right there, with blows of pure rage and grief.
The police arrived and, as usual, they protected the guy with the expensive car before even looking at the victim. The guy came out flashing his badge, saying they didn’t know who they were messing with, that his dad was going to make a huge fuss. What a disgrace!
THE OUTCOME THAT LEFT US ALL ORPHANS
When the Red Cross paramedics arrived, those unsung heroes, there was nothing they could do for Lupita. The young mother, the tamale warrior, had breathed her last on the asphalt, her gaze fixed on where her daughter was safe.
Lupita, my dear, is gone. She died at 24, a victim of the recklessness and arrogance of those who believe that money buys impunity.
And there Estrellita remained. Sitting on the sidewalk, hugged by a neighbor, not understanding why they were taking her mother away covered with a white sheet. An orphan at six years old.
The “Read more” link in that news story hid this hell. It hid the end of a family and the beginning of an ordeal for a grandmother who will now have to take care of the little girl, her heart broken.
THE CLOSURE: WE DEMAND JUSTICE, DAMMIT!
Iztapalapa won’t sleep today. Mexico is in mourning today. We cannot allow this to become just another crime story that will be forgotten tomorrow with the next political scandal.
This “Richie” guy is already at the prosecutor’s office, but his expensive lawyers are pulling strings to get him released on bail, claiming “manslaughter.” No way! That was murder!
From this stand, we demand that this case not be swept under the rug. Whoever is responsible must pay! Let the full weight of the law fall upon this irresponsible person. For Lupita, for Estrellita, and for all the mothers who go out to work themselves to the bone and never return home.
Rest in peace, Lupita, heroic mother. Your sacrifice will not be in vain, because the neighborhood doesn’t forget, and the neighborhood is very, very angry.
WE WILL CONTINUE TO REPORT AND WE WILL NOT BE SILENCED UNTIL WE SEE THE CULPRIT BEHIND BARS! OVER AND OUT, AND MAY GOD HAVE FAVORS!
