When Roy died, letters poured into El Campo from every corner of America. Thousands of people wanted to share with Lala and her children just how much Roy had touched their lives and to express their condolences and grief. The people who sent cards and letters came from all walks of life. The secretary of the Army wrote, “We hope that you and your family find solace and inspiration from the memory of who he was and all that he gave to the nation.” A group of Hispanic fifth-grade students in Laredo wrote to Lala, “We wanted you to know how sorry we were and to let you know our prayers are with you and your family.” The letters and cards ranged from sad to inspiring. Some of the writers had met Roy and shared stories of seeing him speak. Others had only heard of him in the news but felt compelled to express their sorrow at the loss of such an important American hero. Together, these messages helped give shape to the meaning of the life of Roy Benavidez. With the passage of time, the letters began to slow. When that happened, Roy started to become a different type of symbol, no longer a living hero but one from the past, and the honorifics started all over again.1
In 1999, the United States Army named a new complex at Fort Bragg after Roy. The $14 million Roy P. Benavidez Special Operations Logistics Complex was dedicated on August 16, less than nine months after his passing. Lala flew to North Carolina along with her daughters, their husbands, and Denise’s children to attend the ceremony. It was a homecoming of sorts for Lala, who had lived at Bragg for much of the 1960s, and Denise, who had been born there. Lala cut the opening ribbon, and her grandsons helped reveal the sign for the new complex.2
In July of 2000, Roy’s memory was celebrated as part of a two-act play called Veteranos: A Legacy of Valor, which ran for five nights at the Los Angeles Theatre Center. Roy was one of four Hispanic Medal of Honor recipients whose stories were dramatized in the play. “This is the first time within the Latino Hollywood community,” the show’s executive producer declared, “where our veterans are celebrated and honored by their own.” Noel flew to California for a performance. “I could hear people sniffling in the audience,” he told a reporter about the emotional show. “One woman just started bawling.” The play came to Texas in 2002, with performances in Houston and San Antonio. The actor Emiliano Torres played Roy in the production.3
On May 2, 2001, the thirty-three-year anniversary of Roy’s heroic actions in Cambodia, the Texas Legislature honored him with a posthumous Texas Legislative Medal of Honor, making him only the third person ever to receive that award (Audie Murphy would get his in 2013). Lala and her children attended this ceremony, too. Texas governor Rick Perry said, “We sometimes use the term ‘hero’ too loosely. But in the case of Roy Benavidez, there is no other word.” “Our family is proud,” Yvette told a reporter, “and we know our father is, too.” One of the legislators commented on Roy’s impact as a speaker and role model for young people, suggesting that “Roy saved more than those eight lives.”4
On July 21, 2001, the United States Navy christened a new ship named the USNS Benavidez during a ceremony in New Orleans. Lala served as the ship’s sponsor and enjoyed the honor of cracking a champagne bottle against the bow. Denise and Yvette were the matrons of honor, with Noel a guest of honor. Each of Roy and Lala’s children brought their own spouses and kids. The Navy put up the whole family at the Hilton Riverside near the French Quarter. A special dinner the night before paid further tribute to Roy and his family. Some of Roy’s other family and friends also came to the event, including his brother Roger, his cousins, and his friends Ben Guerrero, Jose Garcia, and Steve Sucher. A vice admiral in the Navy offered remarks, promising, “The ship you see before you will stand for the same ideals held by Roy Benavidez.” “The way it’s built,” said Yvette, “you can tell that nothing is going to bring it down—just like my dad.” The USNS Benavidez is a noncombat logistics ship. It made its maiden voyage in 2004 and is still in service to the United States Navy.5
Later that same summer, the Hasbro toy company released a limited-edition Roy Benavidez GI Joe. It was part of a special series of GI Joes depicting famous Medal of Honor recipients. The image on the cover of the box shows Roy in soldier’s camouflage firing an automatic weapon next to a helicopter. The twelve-inch collectable comes with accessories including a map, two machine guns, extra ammunition, a radio, and a knife. He’s wearing a Green Beret uniform with his name stitched on the outside, an outfit no one in his B-56 unit would have ever worn into combat. An expert on the matter might say the apparel and weaponry is inaccurate. Roy’s Medal of Honor citation is printed on the inside flap. The doll retailed for thirty dollars.6
Noel thought his dad would have been “tickled pink” about the GI Joe. “He’d be cracking jokes about it.” Yvette kidded that her dad “is looking down smiling, saying, ‘I am not a doll. I am an action figure.’” Whatever one calls it, Roy’s GI Joe was the first ever produced to resemble a Hispanic hero. The director of marketing for GI Joes said, “Roy’s courage was unparalleled, and we are deeply honored and humbled to create a figure in his likeness.” “It’s a morale booster,” Noel said, “that Hasbro is finally recognizing a Hispanic.” The syndicated Hispanic columnist Victor Landa agreed, suggesting, “Many of these figures are going to end up surrounded by candles on impromptu altares—alters.” “It’s a cultural thing that would take more than one column to explain,” Landa wrote. “Let’s just say that it has to do with hopes and loyalties.”7
In the fall of 2000, the city of Cuero, Texas, broke ground on the site for a bronze statue of Roy. A group led by Roy’s cousin hired a Dallas-based sculptor to complete the monument. They raised the money themselves, relying on individual donations through a handful of fundraising tactics. They sold inscribed bricks to be laid on a walkway approaching the statue. Their efforts were bolstered by members of the West Point class of 1982, who donated several thousand dollars to honor the man they heard speak more than twenty years earlier. The organizers also sold raffle tickets and held a dance at the local VFW. It took four years and cost a reported $50,000 to erect the six-foot-eight-inch sculpture across from Cuero High School. “It’s a beautiful statue,” Lala said at the unveiling. “It looks just like Roy.” The monument is still there today. It shows Roy leaning over a raised knee with his rifle in his hands.8
Roy’s image can also be seen today at the Reagan Presidential Library in Simi Valley, California, in a permanent exhibit called “Honoring American Heroes.” The exhibit features the two men Ronald Reagan presented with the Medal of Honor. The first is a World War II veteran named William J. Crawford, who was initially thought to be dead and awarded the medal posthumously in 1944. Crawford was later rescued alive from German captivity, but he never received a formal ceremony until Reagan held one for him in 1984. Roy is the other. His Medal of Honor is on loan to the library. It’s displayed in a case in that hall of heroes along with a picture of Reagan and Roy from the day of his ceremony in the Pentagon.9
Roy’s story continues to be told in a variety of forums. In 2015, the military historian Eric Blehm published Legend: A Harrowing Story from the Vietnam War of One Green Beret’s Heroic Mission to Rescue a Special Forces Team Caught Behind Enemy Lines, a book that provided extensive details about Roy’s May 2 mission, including more information about the pilots involved. Two years later, Roy’s daughter Yvette published a children’s book about her father’s life and military service. Another military buff has also written a children’s book about Roy’s heroic actions. In 2019, the Army released a graphic novel as part of its “Medal of Honor” series that offered an illustrated depiction of Roy’s 1968 heroics.10
Roy’s name dots a smattering of other venues. There is a Roy P. Benavidez Elementary School in San Antonio, in addition to the one in Houston. Colorado Springs has a Roy P. Benavidez Park. In May of 2017, the Texas Legislature passed a bill designating a portion of Highway 71 as the “Master Sgt. Roy P. Benavidez Memorial Highway.” Fort Moore in Georgia (formerly Fort Benning) has a MSG Roy P. Benavidez NCO Academy. El Paso has a Roy P. Benavidez United States Army Reserve Center. The city of Eagle Pass, Texas, has a Roy P. Benavidez Recreation Center. Several Airborne and American Legion chapters have renamed their groups in memory of Roy.11
Roy continues to be considered for other honors. When the Department of Defense recently decided to rename American military bases that carry the names of Confederate soldiers, Roy’s name was a common suggestion for new honorees. Most who proposed Roy’s name suggested it be used as a replacement for Fort Hood in Texas or Fort Bragg in North Carolina, where Roy trained and spent several years of his life. Among those who advocated for renaming bases after Roy were the League of United Latin American Citizens, the Congressional Hispanic Caucus, Texas Monthly, and Congressman Joaquin Castro. The Army instead chose General Richard E. Cavazos, its first Hispanic brigadier general and a friend of Roy, for Fort Hood, and the name Fort Liberty for Fort Bragg. But the Army did rename a street for Roy: Fort Liberty includes a road named Benavidez Street.12
There is one elusive honor that Roy’s supporters have been unable to secure. Many years ago, in El Campo, Chris Barbee suggested naming a local elementary school, Northside Elementary, after Roy. It seemed appropriate. The school was located in Roy’s hometown, and he loved speaking with kids. Named for a mere area on a map, Northside Elementary seemed like a good candidate to carry the name of a local hero. Plus, it was only about a mile from Roy’s old house. But Barbee abandoned the effort after learning about the onerous process of gathering hundreds of signatures of registered voters.13
In 2015, Roy’s daughter Yvette helped reignite the push to rename Northside Elementary after her father. She was inspired, in part, by looking through her father’s old papers and coming across a cache of letters written by Northside students in 1980 asking President Jimmy Carter to approve Roy’s medal upgrade. Northside Elementary students were also in the choir that sang on the night Roy was welcomed home after receiving the Medal of Honor.14
Yvette worked with a handful of other local citizens to collect the signatures needed for the school board to consider their proposal. They gathered support by convincing local businesses to publicly display the petition. Yvette also garnered assistance from outsiders who understood the importance of her father. Marcus Luttrell, of Lone Survivor fame, wrote a letter of support. So, too, did a historian writing a biography of her father. Additional backers wrote letters and emails of support to school board members.15
After four years, the name of the elementary school finally went to a vote before the El Campo Board of Trustees in November of 2019. The choice before the board was to rename the school Roy Benavidez Elementary or keep the current name of Northside Elementary. Much to Yvette’s chagrin, the board voted 4–2 against changing the name to Roy Benavidez Elementary. The school board members who voted no refused to speak with a reporter who’d asked about their decision. The Victoria Advocate editorial board called the school board’s decision “a shame.” Yvette was hurt and disappointed, but, she said, “this just means his name is meant for something bigger.”16
In some form or another, Roy’s memory continues to live. The push to rename a military base in his honor brought his name back into the mainstream news, especially in Texas. In June of 2020, the Dallas Morning News ran a feature explaining Roy’s importance to a new generation of Texans. There also remains talk of a possible film, but today’s filmmakers face many of the same challenges as Roy did in his own efforts to convince a major studio to produce a movie about his life. As recently as 2020, the director Edward James Olmos testified to Congress that “the film and television studios do not want to give us the opportunity to create a superhero because they are content with their belief that Latinos must be feared and kept in their place.” Olmos—an actor and director whose credits include Stand and Deliver, Selena, and Battlestar Galactica—had long dreamed of making a film based on Roy Benavidez. But “Hollywood does not want to make a movie,” he concluded, “about the life of a real-life superhero who happens to be Mexican American.”17
To this day, the story of Roy’s valor continues to appear in newspaper columns citing the example of his bravery on May 2, 1968, and people still watch clips of his speeches on YouTube. The story of his valor is still regularly shared on dozens of websites and podcasts, and every Memorial Day and Veterans Day inspired speakers tell their audiences about the tale of Roy’s courage. They usually focus on the fighting and his ability to overcome poverty, embracing the same messages that Roy once did in speaking about his own journey. He remains an icon in the Special Forces community and a role model for young Latinos, whether they’re interested in the military or not. The progeny of ancestors who could never assimilate, he became a bona fide American hero through his wartime heroics, courage, and willingness to fight for not only his country but himself.
Today, Roy’s offspring manage his estate and continue to help curate his legacy. His kids are regularly invited to participate in events honoring their father’s military service. Yvette maintains a Roy P. Benavidez Facebook page that draws hundreds of “likes” for every post. Strangers routinely contact her to share memories of hearing her father speak decades ago or to express their appreciation for his military service. Roy’s children deal with all sorts of requests, interactions, and even promises. They are honorable and generous stewards, continuously willing to share their father and his memory with people all over the world. Especially since Lala’s passing in 2019, it is they who have taken up the mantle from their father of managing and interpreting his messages and importance for the many others who find power in his story.
His life will always make up so much of theirs. They know that; they didn’t ask for it, but they, like him, understand their role as an extension of their father’s commitment to his country. That responsibility to their father’s memory could be seen as both a burden and a gift. Managing their father’s legacy has left them with rich rewards and deep disappointments, as they navigate the promises and ambitions of those who come seeking to engage with some aspect of his memory. They are lucky to have witnessed the ways their father touched so many of their fellow citizens. Their dad remains a cherished national treasure. He was truly a great American, just as he always wanted to be.