As more details emerge from Sunday’s horrific shooting at the Gilroy Garlic Festival, we learn more about the victims and their stories. Today, we’re learning that, in addition to the death of 6-year-old Steven Romero, 13-year-old Keyla Salazar also died in the massacre.
She was killed by the gunman but may have saved another relative’s life by staying behind amid the shooting to walk with a relative who uses a cane.
Keyla Salazar, 13, was identified late Monday by the Santa Clara County Coroner’s Office, as the third victim fatally shot by a 19-year-old gunman while attending the Gilroy Garlic Festival.
Salazar’s aunt, Katiuska Pimentel Vargas, told the Associated Press Monday that her niece was eating ice cream with family members when they heard gunshots and began to flee. Salazar stayed behind to keep pace with a relative who uses a cane and was shot with a bullet that otherwise might have hit the woman she was waiting for, Pimentel Vargas said.
Pimentel Vargas told BuzzFeed News the teen would have turned 14 on Aug. 4 and was going to start the ninth grade this fall.
Friends say Keyla’s step-father was also shot and remains in the hospital.
“I have no words to describe this pain I’m feeling,” she wrote on Facebook Monday in a post honoring her late niece.
“We just want Keyla to be remembered as someone that is beautiful,” Pimentel said. “She really cared a lot about other people. She loved animals. She had big dreams and aspirations and her life was cut short.”
A local car dealership in Gilroy started a GoFundMe page to raise money for Salazar’s parents after her death.
”Together we can help with this heartbreaking loss,” Mann wrote. The page had raised over $22,000 as of Monday night, nearing the halfway point of its $50,000 goal. Family and friends shared the crowdsourcing page to Facebook Monday to ask for donations.
“Please donate. She is my friends daughter and unfortunately lost her life in a senseless act. Please keep her family in your prayers,” Jeannette Godinez also wrote on Facebook.
Colorado has a history of mass shootings that date all the way back to the 1999 Columbine Massacre. Just a few months ago, 10 people died from a mass shooting in a grocery store in Boulder, CO. And this past weekend, more people lost their lives at the hands of a madman with a gun. This time, the shooting happened in Colorado Springs.
Over the weekend, eight people were shot and killed. The shooting happened at a birthday party in Colorado Springs. The police say that the suspect shot the family because he was jealous that he wasn’t invited to the party.
“When he wasn’t invited to a family gathering the suspect responded by opening fire and killing six victims before taking his own life,” said Colorado Springs police chief Vince Niski about the shooting.
The Colorado Springs shooting victims were all family members and all Latino. They are: Melvin Perez, 31, Mayra Perez, 32, Jose Gutierrez, 21, Joana Cruz, 53, Jose Ibarra, 26, and Sandra Ibarra, 28. Three children, aged 2, 5, and 11, also witnessed the shooting, but survived. According to police, the murders left all three children orphaned.
"Children at the attack weren’t hurt and were placed with relatives."
*suffered no physical injuries To say children present at a mass shooting they witnessed, in which they needed to be "placed with relatives" because a parent is likely dead, were not hurt, is undeniably false.
The shooter was 26-year-old Teodoro Macias. Macias and Sandra Ibarra for a year. Macias took his own life after his rampage.” “At the core of this horrendous act is domestic violence,” Chief Niski said. “The suspect, who was in a relationship with one of the victims, displayed power and control issues in this relationship.”
The Colorado Springs shooting is sparking a national discussions about domestic violence, misogyny, mass shootings, and gun control legislation.
“In Colorado, we’ve had domestic terrorism incidents where lots of people were killed,” said Colorado Springs Mayor John Suthers. “We’ve had random acts like going into King Soopers or a movie theater. But let’s not forget about the lethality of domestic violence.”
According to police, Teodoro Macias had no criminal record. Sandra Ibarra never reported any incidents of domestic violence. But family members told police that Macias was “jealous” and “controlling.”
Macias tried to isolate Ibarra from her family–hallmarks of violent and abusive partners. The couple had been fighting the week before the shooting.
Right now, the extended family of the victims are struggling to make funeral arrangements because the amount of loved ones that have died is “overwhelming”.
Each month, 57 women in America are fatally shot by intimate partners, and most mass shootings are related to domestic violence. The presence of a gun in a domestic violence situation makes it five times more likely a woman will be killed. https://t.co/T5DTyjI5tC
Thankfully, a family friend has set up a Facebook page to raise funds for the family’s funeral expenses.
In the meantime, the Colorado Springs community and the nation at large are reeling over another mass shooting. This time, the epidemic of domestic violence fueled this mass shooting. “Women in the U.S. are 21 times more likely to be shot and killed than women in any other high-income country,” wrote gun control activist Shannon Watts on Twitter. “Every country is home to domestic abusers, only America gives them easy access to arsenals and ammunition.”
It’s 1970. Groans of discomfort permeate a Los Angeles County Hospital hallway as a Mexican-American woman is in labor. This is going to be her first child.
Little does she know that it’ll also be her last.
“This is an example of erasure,” director Kathryn Boyd-Batstone told mitú.
For Rosa, details a harrowing reality for many women of color in 1970s California. Inspired by the 1978 Madrigal v. Quilligan case, the story follows Eva, a mother faced with the pivotal decision to join the Madrigal Ten after discovering she was unknowingly sterilized.
Wanting to highlight each individual experience, Boyd-Batstone described her heroine as “a fictional composite character” inspired by multiple plaintiffs from the Madrigal Ten.
At first glance, Eva’s story prominently resembles the experience of plaintiff Melvina Hernández.
Hernández, at 23, signed a document that allegedly consented to an emergency C-section. Fearmongering by doctors and nurses highlighted a perceieved risk of mortality, pressuring her to sign a document she couldn’t read.
Four years later, she was informed that she had actually signed for a tubal ligation.
The history of eugenics is an ugly one, acting as a form of silent genocide.
In Eva’s case, medical professionals take advantage of her. Doctors and nurses took advantage of her language barrier and the pain of child labor.
The story, while historical, is relevant in the current context of the Trump era’s immigration policies.
Last year, an ICE nurse whistleblower reported the nonconsensual mass hysterectomies of migrant women detained at the border.
“Although the court case happened over fifty years ago, we are still in a time where reproductive rights are not respected,” Boyd-Batstone said. “This is not an issue of the past, and so the fight continues.”
A mistrust that remains prevalent in the 21st century.
The Madrigal Ten is a testament to the fight for reproductive rights and women of colors’ autonomy.
In 1975, Dolores Madrigal alongside nine other women filed a class-action lawsuit against L.A. County-USC Medical Center for the nonconsensual tubal ligations that occurred during child labor.
A complicated ordeal that received little funding, 26-year-old Chicana Civil Rights attorney Antonia Hernández impressively took on the case. Boyd-Batstone who read the court documents said, “it became obvious that at the time the hospital did not have adequate steps in place to make sure their patients could give informed consent.”
Dr. Karen Benker, the only physician to testify against the hospital, told the New York Times in 2016 that “voluntary informed consent” didn’t exist in the early 70s.
That is until after the National Research Act of 1974 following public outcry from the Tuskegee study.
Following Roe v. Wade, the Madrigal Ten case sought to end the forced sterilizations of women of color, define informed consent and provide consent forms in Spanish at a reading level individuals could understand.
In 2016 PBS released a documentary on the case called “No Más Bebes,” which greatly inspired Boyd-Batstone to create For Rosa.
“The main feeling that stuck with me after watching the documentary was how much strength it must have taken these women to face someone who tried to take their identity and demand accountability,” she said.
Validating women of color’s experiences was essential for Boyd-Batstone. While the film mirrors the malpractices of the medical industry, brought upon by systematic racism and bias, she also hopes that women who have felt “diminished or uneasy around doctors” find the courage to speak out.
For Rosa, sheds light on traditional themes of womanhood and Chicana feminism.
Simultaneously, the lawsuit took place during the rise in Chicana activism.
As tensions between mainstream white feminism and women of color peaked; Chicana activists put legislative reform and reproductive justice at the forefront. Furthermore, they brought awareness to discrimination as it intersects race, class, gender, and immigration.
Though on the sidelines, the case also harbored on the cultural question of defining femininity.
Worried for the state of her marriage, the correspondence of fertility with femininity felt dense. Heavily ingrained in machismo culture; the pain and frustration of no longer being able to conceive are palpable.
But the strength and courage to speak out defies all odds.
“As women, especially Latina women, I don’t think many stories show us how to do this,” Boyd-Batstone said. “So it was important to me to, one, honor the Madrigal Ten’s bravery but [to also] show young girls what it looks like to stand up and fight for your rights.”
Though it has been nearly 50 years since the Madrigal Ten case, the fight for women’s autonomy and reproductive rights is ongoing.
On June 7, 1978, the U.S. District Court ruled in favor of the USC Medical Center. Judge Jesse Curtis stated that miscommunication and language barriers resulted in unwanted sterilizations.
Nonetheless, the lawsuit’s impact was potent. The California Department of Health revised its sterilization guidelines to include a 72-hour waiting period and issued a booklet on sterilization in Spanish.
In 1979, California abolished its sterilization law after 70 years.
More than 20,000 people of various races and ethnicities were sterilized during this time.
For Rosa ends with archival footage of Dolores Madrigal and Antonia Hernández announcing the lawsuit. Nevertheless, its timely release is indicative of the continual demands for justice today.
Now more than ever we must remember the narratives of the Madrigal Ten, and other Black and Brown activists who continue to pave the way for change.
“My hope is that For Rosa humanizes the women so that whatever culture or race or gender you are, you can empathize with the women as human beings,” Boyd-Batstone said.
“My hope is that every person who watches understands that these Latina women are deserving of respect.”
Para Rosa (For Rosa) is available to stream on HBO Max.