A Guatemalan flag for 13-year-old Pascual Melvin Guachiac Sipac hangs horizontally under his hand-painted name on a white cross, faded by the beams of the unforgiving Texas sun.
Guachiac Sipac was the youngest of the 48 people who were found dead one year ago, trapped inside a sweltering 18-wheeler along the abandoned, pothole-filled stretch of Quintana Road between a train track and a junkyard. Another five people died later at local hospitals in the June 27, 2022, tragedy, which is considered to be the deadliest human smuggling event in U.S. history.
In the year since the deaths, a small coalition of Southwest Side residents has taken it upon itself to maintain a memorial along the side of Quintana Road in honor of those who died while seeking work and security in the United States.
The makeshift memorial, comprising 53 white-painted wooden crosses, has stood through storms, wind and even a fire. Now, as the anniversary of the tragedy approaches, the group hopes for a permanent memorial to honor the lives lost.
Leading the effort is personal for Angelita Olvera, a retired school librarian and lifelong Southwest Side resident who grew up on Quintana Road, where her family used to help migrants who hopped off of trains that run nearby through the 1970s.
“My daddy would look for jobs for them, my mom would cook and I would make the tortillas,” Olvera said with tears in her eyes. “I met hundreds and hundreds of men and women that came by our home, so I know some of the stories.”
Christian Rodriguez and Maria Gonzalez, along with Olvera, make up the small group that frequently visits the memorial to maintain it.
Last week, volunteers prepared the memorial in record-breaking heat ahead of a service Sunday observing the anniversary of the smuggling deaths.
“There’s always been like an ‘underground railroad’ for immigrants here, all the way from Mexico through here,” said Debra Ponce, a local climate activist who often visits the memorial.
District 4 Councilwoman Adriana Rocha Garcia echoed that thought, saying that the history of the train, combined with the human smuggling deaths last year, are even more reason to try to rename or dedicate a portion of Quintana Road to the victims of the June 27 tragedy.
“[We want] to make sure that we honor the migrants, and specifically, what they were looking for, which is an opportunity for a better life,” said Rocha Garcia.
As Olvera and Ponce spoke about the history of the area, one volunteer repainted the victims’ names on the crosses, and another picked up trash from the ground around the area. Sunday’s service was planned to be mostly in Spanish so that the victims’ family members can understand.
The group’s dedication to doing the maintenance work on the memorial started from the day the news broke of the deaths. Their work is funded by Olvera’s small retirement fund and donations through the group’s GoFundMe account.
“I was crying. I was in tears. My heart was broken, just thinking about how these people suffered in that 18-wheeler,” Olvera said, describing the moment she heard the news. “They were human beings. … They were just coming here for a better life.”
Two small handmade crosses made in Mexico were the first pieces of the memorial. Soon, hundreds of people a day descended on the area with flowers, candles and other items, including unopened water bottles, an offering for those who lost their lives.
Volunteers often can’t afford to replace the flags showing each person’s country of origin or the flowers, but do what they can every few months. The flags were replaced two months ago but are already faded from the sun.
Of the 53 people who died in the human smuggling tragedy, 21 were from Guatemala, 26 were from Mexico, and six were from Honduras.
Except for visitors to the memorial, hardly anyone passes through the area other than residents who live near the street in unincorporated San Antonio. On Tuesday, a gray sedan sped through the zone with no regard for the tragedy that happened there.
Olvera said it’s a regular occurrence.
During her time tending to the memorial, Olvera said she’s met people that visit from out of state, and she’s met loved ones of the victims who came to pay their respects.
Brenda Velasquez and her mother Rosa passed through the area slowly Monday, then circled back again and watched as people tended to the area. They live two blocks down from the memorial but are originally from Coahuila, Mexico.
“We just came from Piedras [on the border] and we saw a lot of people walking, with children, that are crossing over here. They’re coming because they don’t have jobs,” said Brenda Velasquez.
Her daughter interrupted her to say the country needs immigrants.
“What happened here, that’s what the president should look at, and everyone in the United States,” she said. “They should give Latinos an opportunity.”
People who park along the road and walk up to the memorial often leave teddy bears, bottles of Modelo beer, handwritten letters, rosaries and flowers at each cross. If they want to stay longer, they walk over to two benches available across the street, and observe the memorial from there.
The current remembrance isn’t permanent, so its caretakers are hoping the city helps build a more formal memorial.
Putting a permanent memorial where the tragedy occurred is difficult, said Rocha Garcia. The patch of land on the side of the street is owned partly by the city and by Union Pacific railroad, she said.
Rocha Garcia said Union Pacific would be on board with the city’s plan to use that area, but putting a memorial there would first require an estimated $15 million to fix the unincorporated road. The low level usage of Quintana Road doesn’t qualify for that level of city investment into the street.
“We’re looking at little markers with possibly the name and the country of origin, but then we’re also looking for art pieces that we can install somewhere nearby, maybe a community center,” Rocha Garcia said.
For now, the city’s Office of Cultural Affairs is working with the public works department to determine a price and timeline of the project. Rocha Garcia said she will hear an update in August.
The memorial’s caretakers described the process as slow-moving, and the group still has many questions about the location and timeline of the city’s memorial project. If a memorial isn’t possible, Olvera has some ideas on what to do next, like allowing members from the community to adopt a cross.
Meanwhile, two suspects in the smuggling case that led to the migrant deaths are set to go to trial on June 26 on charges of transporting undocumented migrants in a way that resulted in serious injury, death and the jeopardizing of lives.
If convicted, the men could face life in prison or the death penalty.
Two weeks ago, the brother of 34-year-old victim Jozue Diaz Gallardo traveled from Colorado to visit his cross at the memorial for his birthday. At the foot of the cross, Olvera watched as Gallardo’s brother reflected. He told her he was the one that encouraged his brother to come to the U.S., promising he’d care for him.
In March, the mother of the boyfriend of 25-year-old victim Margie Paz Grajeda called a volunteer to ask if someone would put fresh flowers at her cross for her 26th birthday.
Many of the victims’ families haven’t been able to visit the memorial due to the same risks of the journey that killed their loved ones, Ponce said.
“Father’s Day just passed. There were children in [that truck],” she said with tears in her eyes. “How many of them risked their lives to come here for a family that’s still left behind?”
