The Shameful ‘John Does’ of Mexico, the US and Central America

Now that I have been in the United States reporting on Central American and Mexican immigrants for several days (the articles are published in the Friday, Saturday and Sunday editions of Milenio), there have been several moments that shook me up.

One was when I interviewed Benny Martinez, chief deputy at the Brooks County Sheriff Department, located 70 miles north of the border between Reynosa, Tamaulipas and McAllen, Texas. The man, wearing a black hat and cowboy boots, showed me his “human remains” books. These are the volumes of files and photos of the corpses of immigrants from Mexico and Central America that he and his men find thrown in the county’s thickets — they have located 401 since 2009 — after they are abandoned by traffickers and die due to the severe weather conditions (temperatures over 40 degrees Celsius) or are devoured by wild animals like coyotes.

Unless one has become a cold, ruthless, sick human being, it is impossible not to be moved, not to feel an overwhelming pain for the tragic fate of these people who, year after year, flee the misery and violence that exists in their countries (our countries) and embark on dangerous journeys in search of a better life. As the chief deputy told me as he pointed to photos of the dead immigrants, “This is reality. This is not something from Hollywood. This is not something from stories. These people are not going to wake up. There they are, already dead. They are not actors. It’s a sad thing …”

Yes, it’s a sad thing. Benny went through the pages of the books, one by one: the horrendous photos, that macabre gallery of terror. At times, I did the same thing while my colleague and cameraman Jose Luis Arias recorded. On several occasions, we remained silent, not knowing what the hell to say and with a knot in our throats, as we heard Benny’s memories and explanations regarding the circumstances in which the dismembered or rotting remains were found. Most of the time, he told us, they did not know to whom they belonged; the immigrants decide to travel without identification, or traffickers confiscate their ID cards. They are simply men, women and children with broken, mutilated lives.

The other event that shook me was the tour through Sagrado Corazón [“Sacred Heart”], located in Falfurrias, a town of 5,000 inhabitants that is 138 kilometers north of the border. The few hours that cameraman Miguel Naranjo, photojournalist Jesus Quintanar and I were there were also difficult. It is the cemetery for unknown immigrants. For over 20 years, Brooks County has paid up to $2,000 per corpse to a few funeral homes to bury the bodies. It is thanks to the decision of the merciful local citizenry that the remains of these people do not end up in mass graves (although recently two of these have been discovered). Metal plaques are placed over the modest graves, which read: “unidentified man,” “unidentified woman,” “unidentified remains” or, the term that Americans use to refer to anonymous corpses, “John Doe.”

It is outrageous that this heartbreaking human tragedy continues on end. The governments of Central America, as well as Mexico and the United States, have done nothing to stop the tragedy; they should be ashamed and walk with their heads down. The thousands of dead immigrants are their “John Does,” and in 50 years, their scorn and their sick indifference will be recorded in the history books.