Translated by Sara Koopman
My name is Norma Ledezma, and six years ago my life changed with the
disappearance and death of my daughter Paloma Angelica Escobar
Ledezma. Paloma worked in a maquiladora from 6 a.m. to 3:30 p.m.,
Monday through Friday; in the afternoon she went to high school; and
on Saturdays she took computer classes at a school located downtown.
. . . On Saturday, March 2, 2002, Paloma left her house at 3:15 p.m. to
go to her computer class. She should have returned home at about 8:30
p.m. or 9 p.m., but she didn’t come home. She never came home.
We started searching for her immediately, that same night, with fam-
ily and friends, but it was useless. The next day we filed the appropriate
criminal complaint, but the police did not search for her right away. The
whole family started looking. We put up flyers with her photo all over
the city, but it was useless. We looked for her, without stopping, for
twenty-seven days. During that time the assistant deputy district at-
torney, the district attorney, and the governor of the State of Chihua-
hua, Patricio Martínez, met with us. They assigned several commanders
and agents to search for her (that was what the governor promised me),
but it was all useless. They didn’t find her.
The only clue was testimony from a young woman who said that she
had seen Paloma on March 2 in a black car very close to the school, and
that outside the car was a man named Francisco who worked at that
[computer] school, and that she [Paloma] looked half asleep, as if she
were drugged. That’s what the young woman who supposedly saw her
said. That was the only clue. Days later, they called saying that she was in
the southern part of the city. The police told us that she was fine, that
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