Uvalde, Texas-Kimbury Rubio and her husband Felix have a photo of their murdered daughter Alexandria Anya Rubio (known as Lexi) at Uvalde Plaza next to the City Hall on Sunday night. At the Uvalde Police Station, I went up to the stage and read a part of the mission statement aloud.
“We promise to provide excellent police services to the people to save lives,” Rubio said in a quivering voice. She recalled in the aftermath of a mass shooting in her city that she testified before Congress to seek more gun control.
Then she looked up and lit her voice. “No one can give me what I want,” she said. “I want to get her daughter back. If I can’t welcome her, those who have failed her will never know her peace.”
In the days following the massacre at Robb Elementary School, parents like Rubio and other victims’ relatives responded with shock and quiet sorrow. Residents of this mostly Mexican-American community in South Texas turned inward and pushed out outsiders when they buried the dead during an intimate family gathering and hugged each other.
But over time, the shock diminished and the early anger began as the authorities could hardly explain why it took more than an hour for the police to confront the gunner who killed 19 children and two teachers. It has strengthened. In recent weeks, families have blamed officials elected at city council meetings. And on Sunday, hundreds marched through the city with the first collective call for accountability.
The event, which the organizers called “Unheard Voices March and Rally,” began more than a month after the tragedy, in an elementary school covered with flowers and photographs of some of the 21 victims. Marcher bravely confronted the heat wave, holding up a sign saying “Remember your name” and chanting “Save the children!”.
When they gathered at Yuvarde Plaza, a solemn gathering place for mourners, their deceased relatives took turns reading the names of their loved ones and remembering their shattered dreams of becoming baseball players and community leaders. Attendees included Beto O’Rourke, a Democratic candidate for the Governor of Texas.
Javier Casares, whose nine-year-old daughter Jackie was shot dead, said the seeds of the rally were planted the day he stood on her body and vowed that her death would not be wasted.
“I want you to remember her name,” said Casares. “We promised her to fight her.”
Mr Casares said the family was seeking a detailed explanation of what happened during the May 24 response and demanded that the authorities be held accountable. Head of State Stephen McLaugh calls this response a “serious failure.”
Officials familiar with the internal workings of the Texas House Investigation Commission said lawmakers plan to present their findings at a private meeting with their families within a week or 10 days. ..
Many of the marching people also want more than justice. Some families are demanding stricter gun control and background checks. But in mostly rural and socially conservative counties, where gun culture pervades everyday life and owns many guns for protection and hunting, gun control may prove an elusive goal. Mr. Casares and others said he couldn’t.
A veteran of the United States and a longtime gun owner, he once regarded himself as a solid supporter of gun rights. But something in him has changed since the tragedy, he said in an interview.
Mr. Casares remembered painfully in detail that he had forgotten his truck gun when he rushed to his daughter’s school the moment he heard that there was a shooter inside. When he got there, he said he rushed into an armed police officer and begged him to take over the shooter. He later learned that his daughter was dead at a nearby hospital.
Preliminary law enforcement reports suggested that the corresponding police officer waited about 78 minutes for the shooter to enter a classroom that terrorized teachers and children. Jackie’s memory of Jackie, who described him as a “firefighter” who dreamed of visiting Paris one day, earned him a full account and the Yuvarde school district strengthens its security measures before the next school. The year mentioned that was the reason that motivated him to demand that.
“I’m not afraid to speak my heart and will continue to do so, so these families know they are not alone,” he said.
Much of the community’s anger was concentrated on Pete Aledondo, the school’s police chief. Pete Aledondo was one of the first to arrive at Robb Elementary School and, according to state police, was the case commander at the scene. He denied that he was in charge in an interview with the Texas Tribune, and since then he has been on leave from his post. He also resigned from the city council seat he had won before the shooting.
Vincent Salazar, who lost his granddaughter Leila Marie Salazar in the slaughter, came to the march wearing a black T-shirt with a picture of Leila wearing angel wings. He said he wanted the resignation of all officers who couldn’t break his door and couldn’t stop the shooter in time.
“If you got a badge to protect people and protect your baby, why didn’t they do it?” He asked. “This is the first step, the first march. This is not over yet.”
That anger is evident at recent city hall meetings. At a packed meeting in late June, Velma Lisa Duran, the sister of teacher Irma Garcia, who died in the shooting, blamed the lack of transparency from the authorities. A mourning family like her was tired of “listening to the empty words,” Durand said.
She was clearly upset and emphasized to the mayor the damage that the automatic rifle used by the Rob Elementary gunman could do to her body. “These kids were wiped out โ my sister was wiped out,” she said, adding that attending her sister’s funeral was an intolerable experience. “It was her closed coffin. I couldn’t hug her. I couldn’t touch her. I couldn’t say her last farewell.”
In tears, she asked the mayor to explain why the corridor police officers were unaware that the children under constant attack were not aware that they were calling 911 for help.
“There are many children who may have been saved,” she said. “This shouldn’t have happened. We’re having a meeting after the slaughter. We need to change.
Mayor Don McLaughlin sought to assure Durand and his family that he felt “their pain.”
“No, I don’t,” she replied sharply.
At another point in the meeting, a local activist, Tina Quintanilla-Taylor, who couldn’t run for the school board in 2020, stood up, staring at the TV camera in the room and talking to the politicians of the State Capitol. “Show me your face,” said Quintanilla-Taylor. “Please answer our question. Now.”
A few days after the meeting, she remembered taking her daughter out of school shortly before the attack. Quintanilla-Taylor continues to suffer from the sound of ammunition fired while dozens of police officers are waiting outside. Now she feels an urgent need to keep talking for the lost people.
“We seek accountability from all levels, including local, county, state, and federal levels,” she said in an interview. “I also want people to be more active. Register and vote.” She said, “Vote them” if the authorities did not respond to people’s concerns. Added.
Leonard Sandoval, who lost his grandson Xavier Lopez in the Rob Elementary, believes that activism can change people’s minds. Once a quiet family man, he became frank about his desire to ban all offensive weapons such as those used in Yuvalde. He also advocates unified tactical training for mass shootings for law enforcement agencies of all levels.
He personally urged President Biden to tighten gun control and said he plans to participate in future marches to awaken people from indifference, with the aim of preventing dangerous people from legally obtaining guns. He added that recent legislation passed by Congress has not been sufficiently advanced.
At a rally on Sunday, Xavier’s mother, Felicia Lopez, was surrounded by her family and took Mike with her to urge the State Capitol and Washington lawmakers to listen.
“We are asking for changes in gun control so that they can stop selling them to the bad guys,” Lopez said in a broken voice. “Change the law so that you can’t take your baby anymore.”
Rick Rojas Report that contributed. Kitty Bennett Contributed to the research.