They posted missing person flyers throughout Lindavista and nearby neighborhoods:
“Looking for Roberto Campos García, 34 years old, missing since August 23, 2006.”
Patricia’s phone number appeared on hundreds of poles, walls, and bus stops.
Calls came in—but all led nowhere.
Someone thought they had seen him in Tepito. It was someone else. A psychic called offering her services, claiming she saw Roberto “on the other side.” Patricia hung up angrily. A man demanded money in exchange for information and never showed up.
Roberto’s company offered condolences and returned his belongings: family photos from his desk, a company mug, some personal documents. They thoroughly reviewed his work computer—nothing unusual. Routine emails, invoices, spreadsheets. His professional life was as ordinary as his personal one appeared.
Financially, the situation quickly became unsustainable. Roberto’s salary had been the family’s main support. Patricia took a second job at a clothing store in the afternoons after her dental clinic shift. The savings they had carefully set aside for their children’s education were consumed by daily expenses.
They sold the car—a battered but reliable Nissan Tsuru. The house, purchased through an Infonavit loan, nearly went into foreclosure until Patricia managed to restructure the debt with the help of a sympathetic lawyer.
Neighbors, initially supportive, began to speculate. At corner stores and during laundry-day conversations, theories spread: Roberto had another family, he ran off with a lover, he was involved in something shady.
Some people, with misguided good intentions, told Patricia she should move on, that after a year it was time to rebuild her life. She silenced them with a cold look. You cannot move on from someone who vanished without explanation, without a body to bury, without closure.
Daniel entered middle school and became a responsible, silent teenager beyond his years. He worked weekends at a taco stand to help with expenses, lying about his age. When Patricia found out, she cried—not because of the work, but because of the childhood her son was sacrificing.
Alejandro developed behavioral problems at school—fighting, refusing to do homework. A psychologist at a community clinic explained he was experiencing ambiguous grief: loss without confirmation, especially hard for children.
By 2009, three years after the disappearance, Patricia had to accept that she might never know what happened to Roberto. The police investigation was shelved—one more unresolved disappearance in a city where people vanish with disturbing regularity.
Doña Marta begged her not to stop searching, but Patricia no longer had the strength or resources. She had to survive, to raise her children, to keep going—even though her heart remained trapped in August 2006.
Years passed. Patricia aged in ways not caused by time alone—premature gray hair, deep lines around her eyes, a permanent exhaustion in her posture. She had chances to rebuild her romantic life, but she couldn’t. Legally, she was still married. Emotionally, part of her still waited for the door to open.
Daniel graduated high school in 2012 and took a job at a furniture store, indefinitely postponing college. Alejandro improved behaviorally but never fully overcame his father’s absence.
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