I visited Iraq in December 2003 with a family delegation. Global Exchange, Code Pink, Veterans for Peace, and the Alaro Organization gave me beautiful support for going to Iraq, because we needed to find the place my son died. I needed to show the Iraqi families that ordinary American people do not support the occupation, and that like Iraqi people who have lost a member of their family, American people have also lost members of their family in the war.
I had an opportunity to meet with families in Iraq who lost two, three, four, five members at the same time. These people opened their doors and their hearts and gave me a beautiful welcome.
When my son died, it made me crazy. I have a grandson. Jesus had a sixteen-month-old baby, only sixteen months old. When Jesus died, everybody cried in the house, and my grandbaby watched everybody and did not understand what happened. I guarded my grandson. I went to the park and played with him, because he is mine.
I didn’t have an opportunity to cry for my son. I didn’t have the opportunity because the government told me, “Your son died with a shot to the head. It’s impossible for you to see the body because the face is destroyed and it’s not good for the family. We will not pay for the funeral for you, because you chose your own cemetery.”
Much later, I learned that the military lied to me. My son did not die when he received the shot to the head. Jesus died when he stepped on an illegal American cluster bomb and waited two hours for medical assistance. Then he died.
I miss my son. I cry every single day for Jesus. It’s been five years. On March 27, it will be five years since my son died in Iraq. But when I come in here today with Iraq Veterans Against the War, and I see Camilo, and I see Juan, and I see Jethro, I see Jesus. This is my new family. These are my boys. My sons and my daughters are here in Iraq Veterans Against the War.
The war destroys families. The war destroyed my life. I had some problems with Jesus’s mother, because when Jesus died and I began to speak out, I began traveling around the country and around the world. I got divorced because the family couldn’t understand why I began to change my life. I was cashier. I was newspaper deliverer. I had a job.
But when Jesus died I needed to tell young people that it’s necessary to get more education. No more violence. More school, no more weapons, no more bombs. My family didn’t understand me and it was destroying for me.
I have had the opportunity to review my life. I have a new wife, but believe me, it’s not easy. But this is only one story. Carlos has another story. We have more than four thousand stories now. Five years. How many more stories do you need? How much more blood do the American people need, to stand with the Iraq Veterans Against the War, with the families and say, “Bring the troops home now!” How many more years?
I’m tired. It’s been five years. Every single day, I go to schools, I go to the rallies, and I tell the people. But people continue to die, and the children in Iraq continue to die because my government destroyed their lives. My government destroyed my grandson. Please, join together for peace and love. Thanks so much.