My younger brother, Daniel, had gone to Tijuana for the weekend. Everyone was worried when he didn't show up for work on Monday. An aunt contacted the morgue today, and he was there, dead, having allegedly fallen down and hit his head and died from the injury. However, I think it is much more likely that he was "rolled" and died by someone hitting him in the back of the head.
This is a very sad day for our family. My brother was only 37. I never would have guessed that his life would end in Tijuana, which, despite being so close to us, is such a foreign and dangerous place.
People regularly disappear there, though it's not politically correct to say this. My late father knew a family of four daughters from Tijuana, one of whom just disappeared off the streets one day while she was walking home from school. He was good friends with the two older daughters, Herlinda and Dalia, and he talked about this kidnapping so often during my childhood, that not a day has passed that I haven't thought of this lost sister. This tale inspired me to be very cautious. I too, often wonder what happened to Herlinda and Dalia's sister.
So when I got an e-mail today from a family member, stating that Daniel had gone to Tijuana on Saturday and hadn't returned, I knew he was no longer with the living. My mother said she knew right away, too. We talked and consoled each other. She really loved him so much.
I will not be visiting Tijuana any time soon. My brother's body will be shipped back to Los Angeles and his funeral will be held soon. There is no way to find out what really happened, who might have killed him or exactly why. I guess it's not for me to know. And you know, sometimes it's better not to know.