Brownsville mourns — and wonders — after family slain
Web Posted: 10/22/2006 12:55 AM CDT
Jesse Bogan and Jeorge Zarazua
Express-News Staff
BROWNSVILLE — The contents of four open caskets, especially the two small white ones that each cradled a young boy draped in baptismal suits, pulled tears even from grown men Saturday.
The mourners were viewing what remained of the Escobedo family, shot multiple times beside Florida's Turnpike in the early morning darkness of Oct. 13.
The ruthless deaths of Jose Luis Escobedo Jr., 28, his wife, Yessica, 25, and sons Luis Julian, 4, and Luis Damian, 3, left people across the nation asking the same questions.
How could anyone be angry enough to wipe out an entire family?
Who, even in their wrong mind, could level a gun at a young mother trying to shield her boys, then fire at them all as if they were tree stumps?
"I don't have an answer for this, it's such a horrible story," said César Garcia, 54, who cried while taking a smoke break after viewing his niece.
Mourners patted Yessica's thick black hair, or rested a hand on the boys, each with his own stuffed animal — a lion and a puppy — or touched Jose Luis, in his black wedding jacket trimmed with ostrich leather at the shoulders.
"I don't understand. I don't understand. I don't know what they were thinking, how anybody did this," Garcia said.
There are other questions.
The family had moved from its Brownsville neighborhood of laundries, inexpensive taquerias and used-auto-parts stores to rent a home in a gated community in southern Florida with a $3,300 deposit. But Jose Luis was a small-scale used-car dealer looking for construction jobs.
The case has produced no arrests. Florida investigators initially said the shooting didn't appear to be a carjacking and may have involved someone the family knew.
Since then, police have refused to comment. They are said to be looking into the case of Jose Luis' brother, Jose Manuel, 28, a federal fugitive who failed to meet the terms of his release on a 10-year sentence for conspiracy to transport and possess cocaine in the Houston area.
Except to say they haven't heard from him, family members declined to talk about Jose Manuel. His birthday is the same day as the killing and just one day before his brother's. The two looked nearly identical.
The only suspicion that relatives have shared was about a shady Florida associate of Jose Luis who visited here in June. Since then, he apparently complained about money issues with the man, but no one could say with any confidence what their relationship was.
Asked Friday if the killing appeared to be drug-related, as many here suspect because of how it was carried out, Brownsville police Lt. James Paschall declined to answer directly because his department isn't leading the investigation, but said: "I think it's very obvious. The situation speaks for itself."
Starting over
Apart from a traffic violation, Jose Luis Escobedo had no criminal history, according to police and public records. Relatives said they weren't aware of him or his wife being involved with drugs, though people close to them have been, as with many families living along the Texas-Mexico border.
Relatives, including some who had spent weekends with the Escobedos for years, said they weren't sure why the family pulled up stakes and moved to Florida.
They speculated it was for a fresh start, and possibly so Jose Luis could buy and sell used cars. He would buy one or two at a time, or sometimes help drive vehicles back to Brownsville from faraway auctions for colleagues.
"They didn't have any real reason, they just wanted to try something else," said Monica Moreno, Yessica's aunt.
Relatives said Jose Luis may have been depressed and in need of a new beginning since 2005, when he found the body of his father, a former fisherman, hanging in his bathroom. In recent years, a cousin also committed suicide and an aunt in San Antonio died of cancer.
They mostly won't talk about his only brother.
Released March 7 on his own recognizance from a federal prison in Oakdale, La., Jose Manuel was to report to a federal prison work camp to finish about six years left on his sentence, but didn't show up, said Mike Truman, a Washington-based Federal Bureau of Prisons spokesman.
"He was eligible to (be released) because he had no violence in his background," Truman said. "He met our criteria to be placed in a camp."
Initial searches of the U.S. Marshals Service database didn't show him as wanted. A representative of the agency in Lake Charles, La., said a warrant for his arrest was issued recently, but declined to give the date or describe the extent of the search.
Robert Hobbs, a federal prosecutor based in Beaumont who is familiar with the 2003 case against Jose Manuel, said the fugitive brother "certainly needs to be fully explored" in the investigation.
He was among some 20 defendants in a "very significant heroin and cocaine" trafficking case, a loosely organized organization based in Houston with buyers in Pennsylvania, Louisiana and other states, Hobbs said.
Hobbs declined to comment on Jose Manuel's release from prison in March, around the time Jose Luis moved to Florida, to be joined by his wife and boys a few months later.
They apparently were all expecting to come home, relatives said. Investigators found airline tickets for an Oct. 14 trip to Brownsville, the day after they were killed.
Brownsville to Florida
In Florida, Jose Luis and Yessica were 1,500 miles and a lifestyle away from where they grew up. They had lived in the same neighborhood and started dating at Simón Rivera High School.
Yessica, whose father is a bricklayer hobbled by diabetes and whose mother helps manage a cold-storage warehouse, played softball in school. Her childhood home on Chilton Street, one of the first built there, is now surrounded by modest brick homes. Kids are everywhere.
After graduation Yessica pursued a two-year degree. Jose Luis dropped out of school to work, mainly on his dad's gulf shrimp boat, "El Camarón," and later in Corpus Christi refineries and the used-car market.
The couple honeymooned at Disney World and lived most recently in his parents' house, protected by a leaning chain-link fence and overgrown front and rear with tall grass.
Hired part-time at J.C. Penney's after being a temp for the Christmas season, Yessica earned about $6 an hour doing paperwork for jewelry repairs, said sales manager Ann Valadez, who praised her performance and character.
On her last day of work in March, she brought strawberries dipped in chocolate for her co-workers, a dessert she was known for making.
"We wished her well and told her she'd have a job if she came back, and that's the last we heard of her," Valadez said.
Within months, she and the boys had joined Jose Luis in Greenacres, Fla., about 65 miles north of Miami, in a barely furnished, renovated white stucco three-bedroom home with a two-door garage, a fenced backyard and screened porch.
Jeff McElroy, the owner of the house in a neighborhood proud of its parks and landscaped medians, said he never met the family but they paid their $1,650 monthly rent on time.
Neighbors said they rarely had visitors and were rarely seen, except for the Fourth of July and when Jose Luis stood outside with a cell phone pressed to his ear.
A former landlord in Brownsville, Benito Rodriguez, 46, who works in nearby West Palm Beach, Fla., said Jose Luis checked in with him monthly to ask for work at construction sites, but never at the right time.
"He said he was selling cars, buying cars," Rodriguez said.
But neighbor Maureen Mendez, 51, was surprised to hear that claim.
"No way," she said. "I would have noticed."
Mendez said she could remember only one time that Escobedo had about five vehicles parked at his home, about two months ago.
She last saw the family members the day before they were killed and remembers noticing their recycle bins were out early that Thursday — peculiar because most neighbors put their bins out on Thursday night or early Friday morning for pick-up.
"I thought they must be going on vacation or out of town," Mendez said.
Loud pops
Early the next day, some 60 miles north of the Escobedo home, a series of loud pops awoke Janis Rich, 67. She looked at the digital clock atop her nightstand as she and her husband got out of bed and walked toward their windows. It was 2:24 a.m.
They heard eight or nine bangs in quick succession and waited, wondering if neighborhood kids had set off fireworks or if a car had backfired on the nearby Florida Turnpike, which wasn't unusual.
"We didn't hear any cars," she said. "We didn't hear any voices. It was just pitch-dark."
At about 7:45 a.m., a Florida Highway Patrol trooper stopped in the area after seeing a parked vehicle. Its driver, whom police refuse to name, pointed out bodies in the grass.
Each had been shot several times, according to autopsy reports.
Within days, passing motorists created a makeshift memorial of flowers, a large teddy bear and a smaller stuffed toy, a yellow duck.
It was where Yessica was found in the fetal position, her arms clutching her two children in a "defensive posture," said St. Lucie County Sheriff Ken Mascara. Jose Luis was on his back adjacent to her. Mascara told reporters it didn't appear the victims tried to flee and could have been kneeling or lying when shot.
Several bullet casings and fragments were recovered. Escobedo's 1998 black Jeep Cherokee turned up a few days later about an hour's drive away in a warehouse area between Interstate 95 and Palm Beach International Airport.
Suspicion
Back in June, the music had thumped at Stilettos, a strip club nestled among chain restaurants and car dealerships here on U.S. 83. Jose Luis sat beside a heavily tattooed man with precious stones mounted in his teeth.
They were visiting for a few days, said Jose Luis' uncle, Jose Torres, 30, who said the stranger looked "like he came from a bad neighborhood."
"For his age, what the heck does he do?" Torres recalls thinking at the time. "Who the heck would have money to put diamonds or whatever the heck he had on his teeth?"
Torres said the man had at least $300 in $1 bills stacked up for the dancers.
Today, he wonders if the man may have information about the killings. Jose Luis had later complained by phone about how the man "didn't want to pay his share of the rent," said Torres, one of several family members interviewed by police.
Torres said it would be hard to believe that his nephew was involved in an illegal scheme because he saved his money, worked hard and "wasn't the type of guy to get into trouble."
"His brother was the one who liked the easy money," he added.
Torres spoke about his own involvement with drugs when he was young.
"But you learn everything comes to an end," he added. "That person who did (the killings), he had to be high on some type of drugs, that I assure you. ... All I want, I want to be there in court to see his expression for murdering my nephew, his two boys and wife."
Saying goodbye
Taking a break from preparing two days of visitations and a funeral, Liza Salazar, 25, a cousin who grew up with Yessica, reflected on a stack of family photographs. She had made copies for a collage, a task that seemed to simultaneously make her laugh, cry and feel ill.
The photographs showed family trips to the beach, a young husband and wife lying in a hospital bed smiling before a baby was born, two young boys sharing a bath, the boys dressed like Batman and Robin for Halloween.
"I just feel like throwing up every day," Salazar said, adding that the boys followed their mother around everywhere, "like little ducks."
Standing nearby, Miguel Guerrero, 28, one of Yessica's two brothers, said he dealt with it by understanding that "sometimes God wants good people up there with him. So you have to accept that."
He regrets not paying more attention to their phone calls, so he could pass along names or details that might help police. He did remember a recent conversation with 4-year-old Julian, whom he urged to come home to see his grandmother.
"He'd say, 'No, my house is very big, very good ... you bring Grandma,'" Guerrero said.
Asked if there was a darker side to the family's life that may have led to the killings, Guerrero said it didn't matter now.
"Two kids were killed and brutally, with a woman still holding them," he said. "It's not about what they did, it's about what happened to them."
jbogan@express-news.net
Staff Writer Jeorge Zarazua reported from Florida. News Researcher Kevin Frazzini contributed to this report.
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