In Ciudad Juarez at the U.S.-Mexico border, 25-year-old Venezuelan nursing student Stefany Arango Morillo has been left with the same pit in her stomach. “They didn’t want to do anything,” José Cordova said of the guards. Their concern is matched by anger from watching guards run away from growing flames and thickening smoke rapidly encapsulating migrants.Īnother father rambles off questions: Who started the fire? How did they get fire in there? Did a guard give a lighter to someone inside? “We’re waiting for real news that would be the first and the last, as they say, if they are alive or dead.” They’re unbearable,” said José Córdova Ramos, father of 30-year-old Cordova. “You want to be strong, but these are hard blows. On Tuesday the three men’s names - Dikson Aron Cordova, Edin Josue Umaña and Jesús Adony Alvarado - were among those to appear on the government’s list of victims without any details of whether they were alive. The pain and uncertainty felt by families underscores how the effects of migration ripple far beyond the individuals who embark on the perilous journey north, touching the lives of people across the region. That has left López and her daughter back in their small western Guatemalan town clinging to hope that he may be alive.Īs images of the devastating blaze consume news broadcasts and social media, families scattered across the Americas are reeling in agony as they await news of their loved ones.
Then his name appeared on a government list of the fire victims, but not specifying whether he was among the dead or the hospitalized. That was two days before a fire in an immigration detention center in Ciudad Juárez claimed the lives of at least 39 migrants and left more than two dozen injured. SAN MARTIN JILOTEPEQUE, Guatemala (AP) - The last Ana Marina López heard of her husband, the 51-year-old Guatemalan migrant told his family that he was being detained by Mexican immigration agents at the U.S.-Mexico border.
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