Little Village Women Who Have Lost Sons, Husbands Gather In Grief, Feeling Forgotten With Crimes Unsolved
CHICAGO (CBS) -- A group of moms in Little Village cried and shared stories as they met this week– united by the same pain as the murders of their loved ones remains unsolved, and they feel forgotten.
Only one mother had planned to speak to CBS 2 Political Investigator Dana Kozlov, but then the number grew and many of them opened up.
At the meeting at the Little Village Community Council, 3610 W. 26th St., every mother, wife, and father in the stark room had lost a loved one to violence in the neighborhood. Most were specifically mothers who had lost their sons.
"Maybe for society, it's numbers, but for me as a mom – and for many other moms that have lost our children to this madness; violence – they're not numbers," said Catalina Andrade. "They're our kids."
Andrade's son, Miguel Rios, was shot to death in July 2020. He had just graduated from high school and was headed to college.
Maria Trujillo's son, Felipe Duarte Trujillo, was murdered near 27th Street and Pulaski Road in August of last year. Then in December came the unthinkable – as another son, Hector Duarte Trujillo, was gunned down not even a mile away at 27th Street and Christiana Avenue.
Hector Duarte Trujillo was Maria Elena Ramirez's husband.
"My husband, he was a man of work; home, and he got shot and killed – and I haven't heard anything," she said. "I haven't seen them do anything."
That is another thing they all share – none of their loved ones' murders have been solved. That fact is made more painful after 8-year-old Melissa Ortega was shot and killed in the neighborhood, and police arrested her alleged killer days later.
Frustratingly, the women who gathered at the community council have a third thing in common. They say their cases are getting little attention from Chicago Police, and in some instances, they believe they're not a priority at all.
"They didn't go to me and ask me," said Maria Vega. "I had to go to them."
She had to go to detectives to tell them about her son, Christopher Torrijos, was shot during a September fight in a parking lot. On video, her son is heard saying he's a "neutron" – not a gang member. They shot him anyway.
"I don't want him to be just like a number," Vega said. "He was my son."
They believe there's strength in numbers, in shared, in anger. They also wonder if police write these murders off – assuming the worst of these victims, and assuming they were part of the violence that took them.
"We're here because we want our voice to be heard," Ramirez said. "We want you to ask us: 'Who was your husband? Who was your loved one that got killed? Who were they?'"
"This is not easy by me being here; like, it's like I'm just putting myself out there, and who knows – you know, I don't know who these criminals are. I mean, if they took my son's life for no reason, I fear for my life too," Andrade added. "I think that if we don't say anything, I mean, nothing's going to be done – and we need to get to the bottom of this."
