I Couldn't Even Imagine That They Would Kill Us. John Gibler

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:

      “A compañero is down!”

      In that moment all of the compañeros that were at the front of the truck ran; they all ran. I was about two meters from the bus. There were about ten of us that ran to the bus and I was able to jump inside the door at the very end, landing on top of the other compañeros. I don’t even know where the cop came from, but he shot me in my left knee. I don’t know if it hurt or didn’t hurt. I just jumped inside the bus. Then, I went to the first seat and lay down and said to a compañero:

      “I think they got me.”

      “Really?”

      “Yeah, they got me,” I said and grabbed my leg and just saw blood. I dragged myself toward the back of the bus, to the last seat at the back. Compañeros asked me:

      “Camarada, are you okay?”

      “I’m okay,” I said, “don’t worry about me, but if the police come inside the bus we can’t give up, if they take anyone, they’ll have to take us all.”

      JOSÉ ARMANDO, 20, FRESHMAN. About five of us went out to put a T-shirt under the compañero Aldo’s head because he was still moving, we could see him move and we went to put something under his head because he had already lost so much blood. That was when they shot at us more intensely, and we took cover behind the squad truck. Aldo had fallen behind the truck. We took cover behind the wheel, all of us pressed together, and then we ran back to the space behind the first bus. The police had been coming closer to us. They were coming to take us away. Everyone was erasing all their contacts form their cell phones because we thought they were coming to take us—like they always do when they repress us—off to jail or the police station where they go through our cell phones. So, that’s why we were erasing all our contacts. That’s what we thought would happen. That or that they’d kill us all right there.

      During the time we were in between the two buses another compañero started dying. He fell to the ground because he already had some kind of a lung illness. He fell, he was having trouble breathing, and we shouted out to the police for them to call an ambulance, but no. So we called the ambulance and we explained to them where we were and why we needed an ambulance. We told them that we were being shot at, that they should send the ambulance as fast as possible because otherwise the compañero would die, and that they needed to take Aldo as well.

      EDGAR YAIR, 18, FRESHMAN. Like I told you, we had thought that they wouldn’t shoot directly at us. I mean, we thought they were shooting at the ground or something like that. But then we saw the compañero hit with a bullet to the head, and he fell to the ground. There were about eight of us trying to move the truck. Only three of us realized that the compañero had been shot in the head. The other compañeros didn’t realize what had just happened. With all the adrenaline they didn’t realize, until we screamed to them to stop pushing the truck, because it was almost right on top of the compañero. We screamed loudly for them to stop, that a compañero had been wounded, but they couldn’t hear us because of the noise of the gunshots and all the yelling. They didn’t understand what we were saying. Finally we gestured to them and they realized that the compañero was on the ground, bleeding from a gunshot to the head. We wanted to lift him up, but instead of letting us, the police shot at us more intensely, firing rapid bursts of shots.

      We ran to a place between the two buses. A number of compañeros took shelter there, we were maybe twenty-seven there, I think. And we were there for a long time, almost two hours. We screamed to the police that we were unarmed, that we had nothing to hurt them with. We screamed for them to stop shooting at us, because if you leaned out just a bit, they shot at you. They didn’t feel the slightest pity seeing us all sad and afraid. We were all really nervous, really scared by everything that was happening, seeing how our compañero was still lying out in the street, convulsing. We wanted to go get him, but the police wouldn’t let us, they shot at us. At last an ambulance arrived.

      MIGUEL ALCOCER, 20, FRESHMAN. They got off the bus to move the truck out of the way so we could get out of there fast, leave Iguala. That was when we heard the first shots and Aldo went down. Now they were shooting to kill us. They were no longer shooting in the air, but at us. The compañeros hid between the first and second buses. A number of us were still in the first bus, standing. I and ten or so other compañeros were about to get off the bus when a cop saw us and shot straight at us. He stood right out in front, like this, and opened fire. I threw myself back inside the bus. One compañero got hit in the leg and screamed. I thought they had killed him, that he had been hit, screamed, and had fallen. All my compañeros said that he had been killed but no, in that same instant he called out for help. We helped him get to the back of the bus and wrap his leg. And we stayed there.

      We spoke out to our friends down between the two buses that we were inside the first bus. The compañeros were also taking shelter there because if the police saw you so much as peek out they shot at you. The police wouldn’t let you even look around the corner of the bus. The police had posted themselves at opposite street corners and from there were shooting and shooting at my compañeros. And we were stuck inside the bus. We thought that they’d come for us and they’d take us to jail. We already assumed that we’d just be taken to jail. And there we were all lying on the floor. Some compañeros were crying because we were being shot at. Then I heard that my compañeros in the back were shouting out to the police that we were students from the teachers college and that we were unarmed. And the police shouted back that they didn’t give a fuck. They said:

      “You are all about to be fucked.”

      And, well, I think that my compañeros, the ones who were crying, felt even more helpless hearing the police say that. And, in all honesty, we were really scared because they were shooting straight at us. And the compañeros shouted out for the police to call an ambulance for the compa who was wounded. One cop told us that we had no idea where we were. He said:

      “Sure, maybe they’ll find your compañero, but dead, or maybe they’ll never find him.” He said that to us.