He called his sister saying that he had been robbed and needed money to return home to Irún (Guipúzcoa). They have not heard from him again | He was in a vulnerable moment, he had lost a son, his father died of Covid and his mother had died of cancer
He is 49 years old and they have been waiting for him for one at home, in Irun (Guipuzkoa). His track was lost on September 19 last year. His wife, his daughter, his brothers -there are six of them- search tirelessly; they wait… and look again. The look is in Madrid, the hope in its streets. From there he called his sister for the last time: “They have stolen all my money and mobile. I am eating in a hostel. Please, can you get me something to go home?”
The call was cut off. They haven’t heard from him since. Since that day, there is no more. José Antonio Torres Espinosa is not here.
conflictive neighborhood
“In August of last year he arrived in Madrid with his wife,” says Rocío, his little sister. “My father passed away a year ago. we had collected part of an inheritance and he decided to buy a van with part of the money. The vehicle was in Madrid, so they traveled there”. The trip was quiet, by bus, but it got muddy at the station itself. “A boy was waiting for them at the door, as soon as they left. As we have learned later,The van was in a troubled neighborhoodso we think he may have been in bad company and visiting dangerous places.” José Antonio did not make the purchase. She disappeared shortly after.
his son died
Bricklayer, carpenter, operator… the man arrived in Madrid unemployed. “He worked on whatever came his way,” describes his sister. He was a seeker, fighter. “He had moments of addiction,” says Rocío. The drug knocked on his door at the age of 19“started smoking joints”, a flirt, without more, “Then the bad companies came, the cocaine came later.”
José Antonio hit rock bottom, more than once, but “after years of struggle and perseverance he managed to get his life back on track,” says his sister, “he was clean.” A constant challenge, a continuous pulse that he overcame, for seasons, with effort, methadone and medication.
They came to him badly, “his son died, premature, and he got hooked.” She got out of it all again. He rebuilt his life, fell in love and had a daughter. Then she fell again. “She re-enlisted when my mother died of cancer.” Once again, she overcame addiction, got out of hell, “then my father passed away from Covid, an unexpected death that affected us all and my brother hit rock bottom again.”
A drug smuggler
“He arrived in Madrid clean,” laments Rocío. “As soon as I left the station, that boy was at the door. I don’t know how he met him, if it was a coincidence, if he was there for that,” says his sister, “but he stayed with him and everything got tangled up.”
“My brother had 4,800 euros on him and he met a boy who was a driver for one of the drug ‘cradles’ that they take to the towns,” says Rocío
That boy was the driver of one of the drug ‘cundas’ (drug taxis) that take people to towns. “My brother had 4,800 euros on him to buy the vehicle. Apparently, this boy promised him the gold and the Moor… my brother lent him money, everything went wrong.” His wife, frightened, left Madrid. “I wasn’t using, I was still cleanhe assured, but the environment was dangerous. She got scared, she came back with the girl. my brother stayed“.
A month without signs
“José Antonio doesn’t go two days without calling me and that alerted us.” A week later, his family filed a complaint in the Civil Guard. Inquiries led to the man who had picked him up at the station. “My brother was not there, but his documentation, his telephone number, everything… he had it.”
An investigation was opened, which brought results: he was in Madrid, he slept in shelters, on the street. She ate in soup kitchens. She stopped on September 19 of last year when José Antonio called.
“The phone rang, an unknown number, I pick it up, and it’s him. He tells me he’s still in Madrid, that they have taken away his money, his telephone, everything. That he had borrowed what he had for the van and had been left with nothing. That he couldn’t talk muchwho called with a phone that a person had left him”.
The conversation was short, fleeting, “he told me that he had been eating in a soup kitchen, it was called ‘little piece of heaven’ and that, please, if he could deposit money to return to the Basque Country“, revives Rocío. “I told him yes, to give me an account number, I asked him if he would do a Bizum to a phone number. He told me that a bartender had told him that he could make a transfer to his account and that he would then give the money to my brother. The call was cut and we never knew more“.
“Something could have happened to him”
Hospitals, soup kitchens and shelters. José Antonio’s family called everyone. “In the hospitals they told us that there was no one with that name, in the dining rooms that, due to confidentiality, they do not ask for names or IDs from the people who come there…”. The desperation led the man’s family to contact the driver of that “cradle” who was with him the last few days.
“He didn’t give us any information. He said that my brother did not use, that he was still clean, but that when entering the areas that he had entered, towns, shantytowns, something could have happened to him.” On police recommendation they cut off communication.
José Antonio’s phone has not given a signal again. His bank account has not had any movements, nor are there records in social security. “We need help, please, I have the feeling that, because of his past, because he has the cross of his addiction & mldr; they don’t look for him,” Rocío hurts.
Slim build, 1.70 m tall. Brown hair and eyes. Her hobby: motorcycles; Her hobby: drawing. Her passion: her daughter, her wife. “I think something bad has happened to her.or he would have separated from them without reason, without warning”.
There are no clues. “We have spent a year without answers, without knowing anything about him, punishing our heads imagining the worst possible outcome, living one of the worst nightmares.” Everything is open, “it may not be, it may be…”. He could walk aimlessly, with nothing – like when he called after a month without a trace – through the streets of Madrid.