Wilson Alexander Juarez Hernandez may not have yet discovered the “why” in his life. Why him? Why did he suffer such severe injuries in the Ciudad Juárez migrant detention center fire? And why, when so many others died, did he survive?
Those questions — asked of himself and of God — have haunted the 23-year-old Guatemalan every day for the past two-and-a-half years. But in his search for answers, he’s found that what matters most is to not lose hope – and to trust in God.
“Quizás,” he said when asked if he’s found his purpose, reflecting on his journey from Guatemala to Juárez, the fire that left him emotionally and physically scarred for life, and his hard-fought road to recovery in El Paso. “Perhaps.”
“Quizas que yo tenga un nuevo futuro en mi país,” Wilson said, a sense of calm in his voice and a look of resolve in his eyes. “Perhaps it’s that I have a new future in my country.”
Wilson, who came to the United States in 2023 in search of work to send money back to his family, will return to Coatepeque, a small town in Guatemala also known as the Village of Gardenias, to restart his life later this month.
Wilson is one of 27 migrants who were severely injured in a March 2023 fire at Mexico’s National Migration Institute detention center in Juárez that killed 40 men. After nearly three months in a Juárez hospital, he was transferred to University Medical Center of El Paso. When released, he was taken in by El Paso’s Annunciation House migrant shelter network, where he’s remained under humanitarian parole by the United States.
“I’ve decided to return to my country, where I was born and where I belong,” he said during a recent conversation with El Paso Matters at the migrant shelter that has been his home for two years. He’ll be accompanied to Mexico City then Guatemala by two Annunciation House volunteers and three members of the human rights organization Derechos Humanos Integrales en Acción based in Juárez. “I feel happy, but I’m still saddened because I’m going to leave behind many, many friends I’ve made here.”
Those friends celebrated him Saturday with a farewell dinner and a Mass, where the faithful extended their hands over Wilson in prayer.
Sporting a blue suit, Wilson couldn’t contain his tears behind the dark sunglasses he wore to try to hide them.
“Todo es posible, todo es color. No tengo miedo porque Dios es amor,” about 50 people in attendance sang during the Mass. “Everything is possible, everything is color. I am not afraid for God is love.”
In testimonials during the Mass, some called Wilson a “miracle,” others said they learned about humility and perseverance from the young man. Others said they are going to miss his quirky sense of humor and his attempts to dance with his walker at hand.
“I have mixed feelings about him leaving,” Annunciation House founder and Executive Director Ruben Garcia said, adding that he’s grateful to have been part of the young man’s journey. “It’s totally understandable that he wants to go home, he hasn’t been with his family for two-and-a-half years since this traumatic event in his life that has forever changed him.”
Garcia said he still sees Wilson as vulnerable because of his disabilities and the trauma that still lives within him.
As he heads back to Guatemala, Wilson carries with him the weight of survival and the hope of a second chance – or even a third. Wilson “died” twice after the fire – his heart stopped for five minutes in an ambulance while being transported from the detention center to the hospital and later for eight minutes in a hospital emergency room.
Since waking up intubated in a hospital bed with severe injuries, Wilson had often asked himself if he’d be better off dead. He suffered severe renal failure and neurological damage, his body was mangled, his hands and feet curled into themselves. One side of his mouth drooped. His vision was blurred. He couldn’t walk, talk, dress or feed himself. The red, indented scar on his neck is a constant reminder of the tracheostomy he underwent to secure his airway after inhaling smoke he described as “black, black, black.”
With months of therapy and healing, he now moves around with a walker, though debilitating cramping in his legs and feet sometimes stops him in his tracks. He’s able to take a few steps on his own, but knows he’ll likely first have to use a cane “como los viejitos,” he said, “like the elderly.” His speech, while still slurred and stuttered, becomes a little easier to understand with each passing day.
He’s also gotten a few tattoos of some of his favorite things: A palm tree at a beach, a soccer ball and a motorbike.
In his time here, he’s also received a GED from El Paso Community College, and has added a little more English to his vocabulary, some of which he’s picked up listening to music. He’s mastered the use of phrases like “oh, my God,” “wow, just wow,” “it’s OK” – and “watdafuk,” perhaps one of his new favorite terms.
And he smiles more each day – perhaps in part to show off his new front teeth that replaced the dental bridge he lost somewhere during his hospitalizations.
But none of that can make up for what he’s missed out on, he said.
Since he left Guatemala, his sister married and recently had a baby, making him a tío for the first time. Another sister graduated sixth grade this month – his mother streaming part of the ceremony for Wilson to watch from afar. He’s missed numerous birthdays and holidays – and everyday family gatherings, outings with friends, and get-togethers with his church youth group.
He looks forward to catching up with those most important to him, he said, and will seek out therapy to continue his road to healing both physically and mentally.
But he has no plans to discuss details of what he went through with his family, he said, at least not those that he keeps private because they’re still too difficult to talk about with anybody.
‘Poverty runs deep’
Like thousands of others, he fled poverty in his country, he said, hoping to find work for a few months or even years to send money back to his family in Guatemala.
“La pobreza del país es muy, muy grande. Entonces unos venimos por el ‘cash,’ a trabajar para mejorar nuestras vidas,” he said. “Poverty in my country runs very, very deep. So, we come for the money, to work to better our lives.”
He traversed from Guatemala to Juarez in 14 days. He found shelter at the local church, and on the streets, and worked wherever he could find it, including at a restaurant. He considered staying, earning more money than he had ever made in Guatemala.
But a few days later, he decided instead to attempt to cross into the United States. He was detained by law enforcement officers in Juárez near “La Equis,” the giant red X sculpture by Mexican artist Sebastián, where he admits he was waiting to meet a coyote he now believes set him up.
He was taken to the National Migration Institute detention center, which he describes as overcrowded, dirty and smelly as toilets overflowed. There was little food and water.
Two detainees were charged with setting their vinyl sleeping mats on fire in protest of the conditions. Nine others, including immigration officials, private security guards and the then-head of the National Migration Institute, were jailed on an array of charges, ranging from murder to criminal conduct for failure to perform their duties.
An investigation by El Paso Matters, La Verdad and Lighthouse Reports later found a number of lapses in safety protocols, including missing, misplaced or malfunctioning fire extinguishers, smoke detectors and sprinkler systems. Surveillance video obtained by the news organizations showed an unhurried attempt by guards to find the keys to the cell’s lock when the fire grew out of control and an agent with the National Migration Institute could be heard saying “a ellos no les vamos abrir,” or “we’re not going to open (the cell) for them.”
VIDEO: Smoke & Lies: Uncovering the truth about the Juárez fire
Of the 11 people charged, four remain jailed awaiting trial, including two Venezuelan migrants accused of starting the fire, a private guard and one immigration agent, La Verdad recently reported. Charges against Francisco Garduño Yáñez, the head of the immigration agency, were suspended in January this year on several conditions, including that he issue a public apology, according to La Verdad.
Garduño is set to give that apology Friday, Sept. 26, in Mexico City, where survivors and family members of those killed in the fire will be allowed to give victim statements, said Blanca Navarrete, director of Derechos Humanos Integrales en Acción.
Families and survivors from Venezuela, El Salvador, Honduras, Guatemala and Colombia are expected to attend.
“It’s going to be an empty apology, there’s no genuine regret over the damage that was left behind,” Navarrete said in Spanish. “He’s only doing it to have his charges suspended.”
Navarrete first met Wilson when her organization started working with families and survivors immediately after the fire, and says she’s in awe of his progress and strength.
“The decision to move back home to Guatemala is an important step,” she said. “He would tell us that the American Dream he came in search of no longer exists. He feels overwhelmed by what’s happening in the country and feels immigrants are not welcome here.”
‘No pasa nada’
Rather than focus on who’s at fault for the fire or on the current political climate, Wilson said he prays for those who died – and those like him who survived but now have to live with the trauma.
He’s hopeful that his life can begin again in Guatemala, perhaps start a business selling fruits, vegetables and fish, maybe expanding to raise cattle and sell beef.
“In my country, there’s some of everything. I don’t need anything else,” he said, adding that he looks forward to the fragrance of Coatepeque’s lush gardenias and the sweetness of tropical fruits that abound. “There’s lots of natural foods, coconut, mango, banana, papaya, watermelon, and fish, chickens, cows.”
Coatepeque, a town of just over 40,000 people in Guatemala near its border with Mexico, is a rich agricultural region popular for its coffee beans. It sits near the Suchiate River and a short drive from the beaches of the Pacific coast – beaches that Wilson says he can’t wait to visit again.
With some compensation he received from the Mexican federal government for the incident that happened under the watch of the National Migration Institute, Wilson was able to send money home to build a humble casita – a room with a restroom and kitchenette.
“It’s something, it’s better than nothing,” he said about the compensation.
VIDEO: Death Trap: Cristhian’s story of survival in Juárez migrant detention center fire
Eventually, he said, he’ll want to pursue personal relationships.
“I don’t want a girlfriend yet,” he said. “I don’t want to think about that yet. I want to think things over clearly. I want to have a good future.”
“Todo a su tiempo, todo a su modo, no hay prisa de nada,” he added. “Everything in its time, everything in its own way, there’s no rush for anything.”
His priority is to have good health above all, he said, something more valuable than “cash.” That was a hard lesson to learn, he said, and would now advise others not to risk their health – or lives – to trek to the United States unless they have no other options.
Wilson’s grateful for another second chance, he said, and thanks God for the opportunity to just keep living. Not everybody gets to, he laments.
“Entonces yo digo, no pasa nada, es OK. Yo no le tengo miedo a la muerte.
Yo ya estuve muerto,” he said. “So, then, I say, no worries, it’s OK. I don’t fear death. I had already died.”
The post ‘Where I belong’: Severely injured in Juárez fire, Wilson readies to leave El Paso for Guatemala appeared first on El Paso Matters.
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