Breathe
By Yohali Reséndiz
I have been writing about aggressors for 19 years without understanding what it is that triggers them from within to be capable of committing acts of violence against those they "love".
Christian de Jesús Rojas Martínez was a medical student at the Instituto de Ciencias y Estudios Superiores de Tamaulipas and, as I write this column, he is still at large after beating his girlfriend, who is in the IMSS in that state and is reported to be in serious condition.
At what point did Christian let his future fade away?
Whom has he or whom has he turned to in order to stay hidden, nesting like a rat?
What would you do if you were the parent of a young man facing such serious charges today?
Would you, as a mother, aggravate the situation by approaching him with resources to evade his actions?
Eleven years ago, I covered a femicide that for me was a turning point in my career.
After stabbing Martha Karina, his girlfriend and classmate, the mother of the femicide decided to help her son, who also threw away a promising future.
I remember that my first contribution to the case was to discover that that night, the night of the femicide, was Martha Karina's birthday. Her friends and colleagues had organized a party for her, only no one knew that she was no longer alive.
Hours earlier, Martha Karina's house had sung her mañanitas. Her father, mother, sister, Christian (Martha Karina's boyfriend) and her uncle were there. After the cake, everyone left the house and only her uncle, Martha Karina and Christian remained.
After two months of relationship, Martha Karina decided that birthday afternoon to end her relationship with him and asked him not to attend her party. Christian took the knife with which they had cut her birthday cake minutes before and stabbed her more than 27 times, with the uncle as a witness (he was disabled in a wheelchair and could not speak well), and escaped.
After that, he had the cynicism to arrive at Martha Karina's party.
The music faded out.
-Where is Martha Karina, güey?
-She's not coming, these stains," he pointed to his shirt, "they have Martha Karina's blood on them. Look at my tennis shoes, they are stained, I just stabbed her.
Everyone laughed.
-Don't give me that, man, call him and tell him to come here.
Christian began to ask them for money, and once he had "heeled" them all (he collected 600 pesos), he left the place and found another colleague who had just activated his car alarm.
-I had a fight with my mother and I'm going away for a few days, take me to the bus station.
-There you are, I'll give you a ride.
Arriving at the Vallejo bus terminal, Christian asked for another "parito."
-Lend me some money, güey.
-I only bring a card.
-Buy my ticket and I'll deposit it for you.
Christian's friend did not know he was helping a femicide escape and bought him a ticket to Pachuca.
I discovered all of the above when I entered the case, and without a camera or per diem or anything else, by decision of my then head of information at Grupo Imagen, I decided to go and look for Christian... and I found him.
The Mexico State prosecutor's office had been on the case for nine months; I had been on the case for only two weeks.
Those days and nights I was putting together the puzzle of each step of the femicide and I discovered a great possibility of knowing where he was hiding and I did not let that opportunity be taken away from me by an information chief who, by the way, had never covered a story in the street in his life.
I will never forget the beating of my heart in my throat and ears as I entered the room where he slept.
There was the blood-stained Timberland sweatshirt and his iconic cap. When I asked the clerk where "my nephew" had gone, she said, "He works at an ice cream shop downtown."
It took me almost six hours to find that place and there, in front of me, was the murderer.
-Can I have a chocolate ice cream?
When Christian extended his hand to me, our gazes met. He knew I was the reporter looking for him (I had no idea); a shiver ran down my spine. I took a breath and tried to stay calm. I paid. Christian was slow to give me back my change and I told him if he didn't have enough change to leave it, and I turned around, praying to God that nothing would happen to me, because I felt like he was going to tackle me to stab me or choke me.
When I got to the corner, I called the prosecutor's office to let them know.
-I am Yohali Reséndiz, I am in Pachuca, I have just found the whereabouts of Martha Karina's murderer. I am among these streets, he is dressed like this and like that, and the place is called this....
A woman's voice on the other end of the line (I would later learn that she was the femicide prosecutor) told me: "Sure, mija, only today is Saturday and it's my day off, but send me an email with all this information and between Monday and Tuesday we'll go get him.
I cut.
-I took almost two hours to get here and if they don't come for him, I'll make public what he just told me... it's on tape.
The coordination between prosecutors was immediate and in less than three hours, in front of me, Christian was arrested and in the evening he was presented to the media as part of an "intelligence" strategy of the Prosecutor's Office to find his whereabouts.
I kept quiet.
Months later, Martha Karina's mother, the same one who had requested my help to enter her daughter's case, learned the truth when she listened to a hearing.
-And why didn't you run away when you sold the ice cream to the reporter?
-I knew it was her. I didn't leave because when I saw her I thought I was surrounded. Then I thought I was going crazy because no one was stopping me and I tried to calm down and then, I was stopped.
After Christian was captured I knew why some people think I am some kind of policeman and journalist. And yes, I have collaborated with some prosecutors in the capture of several sex offenders and femicides....
Of all the cases I have covered, only in one I was able to approach the mother because she, like Christian's mother, had also helped her son escape. But when he was about to be captured, he took his own life with the gun he was defending himself with and I asked her:
-Wasn't it better to hand it over?
-He is my son; murderer, kidnapper, rapist, whatever, he is my son and for a mother there is no greater pain than to look at her own failure and know that she has failed them.
I have read that scientifically behind a criminal mind there is a heart that beats slower, on average 60 beats per minute (at rest), but I believe that those who violate, assault or take the lives of those they love never knew the infinite value of having a heart.
I just can't understand how you can destroy what you love....
The opinions expressed are the responsibility of the authors and are absolutely independent of the position and editorial line of the company. Opinion 51.
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