It only took 13 days of living in Juarez for me to see a dead body. 13 days. What will I see in the next 10 years?
Stacey and I were headed back from the grocery store when we realized we couldn’t turn back into my neighborhood. And then we saw him. The newspaper salesman who sits on the corner of Juan Pablo II and Calle Arizona was doubled over with bullet wounds to the chest. My husband just bought a newspaper from him in the morning.
(Photo by Spencer Platt/Getty Images, taken after another murder in Juarez on March 20, 2010)
My thoughts on the motive? It wasn’t a stray bullet, or a random act of violence. It was a man who failed to pay the quota. Here is Juarez everything seems to be divided up into territories. If you don’t pay money to the mafia to sell things on a certain corner, you may pay for it with your life.
My thoughts, prayers and love go out to this poor man, his family and the rest of this country that is being affected by these irrational acts of violence on a daily basis. Maybe I shouldn't be sharing this right now, but I feel the need to tell the truth about my time here in Juarez. I cannot say any more at this time.