by John Gibler
“Hey, you, excuse me, sir: Is this the way to Chilpo?”
“Yeah, keep going straight.”
COYUCO BARRIENTOS, 21, FRESHMAN. And so a municipal police squad truck pulled up and cut us off just at the zócalo. The police officers in the back all got out and only the driver stayed inside. So the compañeros in the front of the lead bus threw rocks at the squad truck to make it move. They did that because the police started shooting. At first they shot in the air, but then they started shooting at us. That’s why the compañeros took action. They threw rocks at the truck, smashing its windshield. The other cops ran. And more police were running toward the zócalo, shooting behind them, not even looking to see if they were. . . . I mean, not looking to see if they could hurt someone who wasn’t even involved. But the police driver moved the squad truck and we kept going. The compañeros that had gotten off the bus stayed in the street, running next to the bus to repel another attack. We kept going forward.
CARLOS MARTÍNEZ, 21, SOPHOMORE. The guy driving the bus told us that he didn’t know his way around Iguala, that the bus was broken down, that he had a commitment at a certain time with his wife, you know, an endless list of excuses so that he drove really slowly. He was driving so slowly on purpose, as if he knew something. Who knows? But he drove the bus really slowly.
At that point, a police truck pulled in front of us. I saw through the bus window when the squad truck pulled in front and a number of police got out of the back aiming at us. The compañeros got off the bus. The police started to shoot in the air. We started to hear gunshots—a lot of gunshots. That was where the first shootings began. I got off the bus and when the police began to shoot I threw myself to the ground. The bullets were breaking glass. You could hear the glass breaking, and pieces of it started to fall on my back.
A few blocks later I started to hear music. I looked around and realized that we were at the Iguala zócalo, but people were running and soon the music shut off and everyone started running. By this time all the compañeros who had gotten off the bus, we were all running, fleeing while being shot at. We passed the zócalo. I remember I was running with a number of freshman compañeros. I crossed the zócalo and what we did was get back on the first bus. The bus had kept going, slowly, so we caught up with it and got back on, the first one like before. The bus kept going.
MIGUEL ALCOCER, 20, FRESHMAN. The police started shooting. The compañeros said that the police were shooting in the air, and I think they were. So many squad trucks started arriving. There were three buses in a caravan and I was in the lead bus. I don’t know much about Iguala, but we were on a straight street and on that street the municipal police would pull out from the intersections. At that time the shots were coming directly at us. The driver kept going straight ahead and the police would drive up and shoot at us. Some compañeros under the stress of being shot at got off the bus and picked up rocks. I think there is a zócalo around there. I don’t know what was going on, but there was some kind of a park and there were a lot of people around. A municipal police officer cut us off around there. The squad truck blocked us and the cops shot directly at us. There were also police shooting at us from behind. You couldn’t run anywhere. So some compañeros managed to find some rocks and threw them at the squad truck and broke the windshield. So the cop moved the truck out of the way and we were able to keep going.
EDGAR YAIR, 18, FRESHMAN. At first the police were shooting in the air. We weren’t scared because never. . . . Well, we knew that they couldn’t shoot at us because we’re students and they can’t do that to people like us. We kept going and at every street corner we passed, police squad trucks pulled out, and the bullets were coming more and more directly at us each time. And we had rocks. . . . Whatever we could find. We threw the rocks at the police because they were shooting at us. There were three buses in a caravan. I was in the second bus. We drove down that whole avenue and the cops didn’t even care that there were so many other people around, kids, women, all kinds of people. And the cops didn’t respect those people. As we drove along the avenue, we didn’t care about anything, what we cared about was getting out of there as soon as possible.
IVÁN CISNEROS, 19, SOPHOMORE. We came to what I think was the zócalo, or something like that, I couldn’t see well, when the first municipal police trucks started pulling up. They didn’t tell us to stop; they just pulled out in front and starting cocking their guns and aiming at us. And that’s when we got angry, because before, when we were asking for donations on the highway, the federal police would show up with the same attitude, cocking their weapons, but we would instantly tell them that we were students, and unarmed. And then the police would think about it and their commander or the person in charge would tell them to lower their guns. And so that’s what we did, it’s kind of like a truce, when we say: “We’re students, we don’t have any weapons,” and we show our empty hands in the air, that we’re unarmed, that was when, before, the police would lower their weapons and we’d have to start some kind of dialogue. That’s the way it had been before.
For example, the state police in Chilpancingo say to us: “Young men, you can’t grab vehicles like that, you have to come to an agreement with the bus companies and blah, blah, blah,” stuff like that. But at that moment, the police didn’t act like that. We said:
“We’re students, we’re unarmed,” but the police didn’t give a shit. They kept aiming at us and that’s when we heard the first gunshots from the back of the caravan. I told the others to get off the bus and grab rocks. We started pelting the squad truck that was blocking us. That truck took off, but we still heard gunshots coming from behind. They kept shooting, but I think they were shooting in the air. At that moment, we ran ahead to stop traffic from the side streets so that the bus could get through. All along the way we kept hearing gunshots, they popped in the air.
ERNESTO GUERRERO, 23, FRESHMAN. Leaving the bus station we made it about a block and a half when the first two police squad trucks came out of nowhere. At no point did they signal for us to stop, at no point did they try to speak with us, they simply started firing their weapons in the air. We were in a caravan of three buses: the two Costa Line buses that we had just taken, and an Estrella de Oro that was in the rear. I was in that bus, the third one. When we heard the gunshots, one of the sophomore compas who was with us said:
“Don’t be scared, paisas, they’re shooting in the air.”
But when we got off the bus we saw that they were not just shooting in the air, but also shooting at the bus, and they started aiming at us. That’s when we made the decision to defend ourselves. How? In the road there I found four rocks, and four rocks are what I threw. We didn’t have any choice. We had to defend ourselves with whatever was around, or let them kill us without putting up any defense. At least I’m of the opinion that if they’re going to kill me, at least let it be while I’m defending myself. And, well, I found four rocks and I threw four rocks. It was obvious that the municipal police wanted to take our lives. The gunshots were aimed at the bus and at those of us who had gotten off the bus. That was when we decided to get back on the buses. We ran a bit farther down the road. The Iguala police were still shooting at the buses. I didn’t find any more rocks.
How was I to defend myself? I ran. The third bus in the caravan closed its door. The second bus had its door closed too. I ran up to the first bus and that was when I was able to jump on. I stayed there in the entrance, by the door of the first bus.
ANDRÉS HERNÁNDEZ, 21, FRESHMAN. The police had already blown out the tires of the first bus, where I was riding. I realized this when a squad truck pulled out in front of us and parked there to block our way. All the police got out of the squad truck, hid around the street corners and shot at us. So what we did was run up to the squad truck to push it out of the way. We were pushing the truck when a second squad truck came within six or seven meters of us. It pulled up and the police shot at us, brutally, without thinking twice about it. They shot at us and that was when
the first compañero, a student in my group named Aldo Gutiérrez Solano, fell. When we saw that he had fallen it enraged us. We wanted to escape, but the police were shooting at us, so we ran back to hide behind the first bus. In my case, I was there behind the first bus, taking shelter.
CARLOS MARTÍNEZ, 21, SOPHOMORE. We were driving along Álvarez Avenue. Through the window I could see the Periférico. We were so close to turning onto the Periférico when a police truck pulled in front of us. It was a municipal police Ranger-type truck. But something strange happened there. The squad truck pulled up with a guy driving it, and that guy got out, fled, and left the truck there, in contrast to the first time a police truck pulled in front of us and the cop driving then moved it out of the way. This time the cop left the truck there in the middle of the road. And so we got off the bus. I, Aldo, Malboro, a number of us got off the bus and tried to move the police truck. Imagine that this is the truck, here is the hood, and here is the back of the truck. I was here at the back trying to move the truck and Aldo was in front of me. We tried to move the truck out of the way. And then I heard when the shots began, loud. I ducked like this and when I looked at the ground that was when Aldo fell with a shot to the head and there was so much blood coming from the wound, too much blood, too much. I went into shock looking at his body for about three seconds; the shots were still ringing out and I just stood there, looking. Luckily, I wasn’t hit.
“Run,” we shouted, “run!”
We went to the space between the first and second buses. We stayed there throughout the shooting. Only those of us who were riding on the first and second buses took shelter there. We were about twenty compañeros between the two buses and there were police in front of us and police behind us shutting off any escape. They shot at us like you wouldn’t believe, there were so many gunshots, it was intense. At first I couldn’t imagine that they were shooting at us, I couldn’t even imagine that they would kill us. I thought the sounds were, who knows, bottle rockets or some kind of firecracker like that. But when I started seeing the bullets, the bullet shells, I realized they were going to kill us, I realized that they wanted to kill every single one of us.
Aldo was lying in the street for a long time. We started to call ambulances. We called 066 so they’d send ambulances. The number 066 is a federal number. It’s impossible for the federal government to say that they didn’t know what was happening, that the federal police didn’t know, because 066 channels information to the local branch of the federal police that is next to an army base.
SANTIAGO FLORES, 24, FRESHMAN. Farther down the road the police started coming out from the street corners. They started shooting at us again, and when we came up to a mini-Aurrera that was where a police truck shut us off. We got off the buses. We threw rocks at them, but the police got out of the truck and left it there in the middle of the street. We couldn’t keep driving, we were stuck. Other students told us to move the truck. I got off the bus, others got off the bus too. I don’t know if it was from fear or desperation, but we couldn’t move the truck. I remember that Aldo, the student who is brain dead, was there with us. I was in the front, at one of the headlights, pushing toward the back. There were about four of us there. Others were in back of the truck pushing it forward. I mean, I don’t know if it was because we were so scared or desperate, but some compas were pushing from behind and we were pushing from the front and none of us had a clue: they were pushing this way and we were pushing that way. We didn’t coordinate, you know, we didn’t know what to do. And another student was in the driver’s seat steering the wheel this way and that, but no way, we couldn’t move it. And that was when they started shooting at us, firing at us. More police trucks were arriving. And so what I did was put my hands behind my head like this, duck down and run. I wanted to throw myself to the ground because of all the shooting. You could hear the bullets whizzing by.
When we were getting to the space between the first and second buses I heard that the compas were shouting that one of us had been shot. “You shot one of us!” But the police didn’t pay any attention to them. They kept shooting and shooting. “You killed another one of us, you killed another, stop shooting!” But the police didn’t care. We raised our hands in the air to show that we weren’t going to do anything to them, that we surrendered, but the cops didn’t care. We asked them for help, saying: “Help us, he’s still alive!” Because a couple of compas said that they saw that Aldo was raising his hand, they said he was still alive. They screamed: “Help us, don’t be assholes, he’s still alive!” But the cops ignored them.
The shooting lasted a long time, so, so, so much time before they brought an ambulance. The ambulance took some twenty or twenty-five minutes to arrive. It took so long to arrive, but that was when they took the compa. We were there, shouting that we would turn ourselves in and the police ignored us. You looked around the edge of the bus and they shot at you. You held out your hand and they shot at you. One compa who stepped out from the buses, a bullet cut right here across his chest, the bullet sliced right across.
JORGE, 20, FRESHMAN. They were shooting at us all down the street, they were chasing us up to this intersection, I don’t know what it’s called. That’s where the police truck cut us off. The police got out and left the truck there. Since we wanted to keep going, with a number of compañeros, we got off the bus to move the truck. When we were moving the truck, the police ran back to take cover and from there they began to shoot at us. We were trying to quickly move the truck when they started shooting at us. And almost immediately a compañero fell when they shot him in the head. Well, I got scared and, you know, seeing how he fell, the majority of us ran and hid behind the first bus. Some of us jumped quickly aboard the first bus. From there we could see that the compañero who got shot was still alive, he was still moving. The bus driver told us to go get him out of the street but when we tried to get off the bus again, the police shot at us. We couldn’t get back off the bus. There were about ten of us who got back on the bus. So we went to the back of the bus and took cover there while the police were shooting at us. They didn’t stop shooting. We shouted out to them, but they ignored us.
IVÁN CISNEROS, 19, SOPHOMORE. We were coming to the intersection of Juan N. Álvarez and Periférico to head out toward Chilpo when police truck 002 came out of nowhere and cut us off. We got off the bus and went to move the truck. The police officers all got out of the truck and ran. When we tried to move the truck we heard the police shooting at us. That was when they hit Aldo, who was beside me. I ducked down and grabbed the truck to push it from the bottom and start to move it, lift it, push it and that was when they hit the compañero Aldo. He went down. When we saw that he fell we all froze, as they say, and we got scared for real then. We saw that this had gotten real serious. When we had heard the gunshots we said, “Those are shots in the air,” but who knew?
When we saw that the compañero went down, that was when the fear hit. We started to shout to the compañeros on the bus: “Compas, get down here!” We screamed to the police that they had killed a compañero, because we thought that the guy was dead. With a bullet to the head, you’d think that someone would die instantly. But he was just bleeding. We ran to the back of the first bus. We tried to take Aldo with us, but the bullets were flying by so close, we couldn’t do anything. We left the compañero there and went to the space behind the bus. We shouted to the compañeros on the second bus to come down, and we wanted to shout the same to those on the third bus, but the police were already machine-gunning that bus. We couldn’t see it, we just heard the shots. We shouted out to the police that they had already killed one of us, that what more did they want, that they had already fulfilled their mission. We shouted out to them, sarcastically: “You should act so tough with the narcos!” We didn’t know that they were also the narcos. We tried to help the compañeros on the third bus, but as soon as we peeked around the edge of the bus, as soon as we tried to do anything, the police fired at us and the bullets flew over the concrete. We
couldn’t leave from behind that part of the bus, between the first and second buses.
When they shot the compañero, we started making calls to the students back here on campus. We called David, the student president. We called the other compañeros to tell them we were being shot at. I started to post about it on the social networks, that we were being shot at, that people should call the press or any media, that we were in Iguala, and they had killed one compañero. I started to post photos of the compañero who had been shot. I called my dad and told him what was happening. He told me to stay calm, and that the most that they could do was arrest us and beat the crap out of everyone. He thought that they would have to eventually let us all go.
At that point I was thinking: “Okay, well, fuck it, they’re going to grab us.” When we saw that more squad trucks were arriving, we thought: “They’re going to corral us, they’re going to come at us from both sides, and they’re going to arrest us.” But that’s what we were thinking, you know, that they were just going to arrest us. This is what we thought: “Yes, they’re going to beat the shit out of us, but we’ll be okay when it’s all over.”
JUAN PÉREZ, 25, FRESHMAN. Once we could see the highway just up ahead, a police truck shut us off; it pulled in front of us, the driver jumped out and ran, leaving the squad truck there in the road. The bus stopped. The bus following us also stopped. A bunch of us compañeros got off the first bus and tried to move the truck out of the way. About fifteen compañeros were at the front of the truck to push it. My compañero—we called him Garra, The Claw—and I were in the back of the truck. There were just two of us there. In a matter of seconds the cops shot at us, and in that instant a bullet hit his head. He went down, falling slowly. We screamed: