"Death and destruction" in Adamuz, tears and anguish in Córdoba: the day after the worst train tragedy of the decade

Adamuz / CórdobaWhen he recalls the scene and tries to describe it, only isolated words emerge. "Death." "Destruction." "Hands." Each word conjures an image from a dramatic night. He remembers a woman weeping, saying she didn't know where her husband was. The image of a pile of twisted metal flashes before his eyes, with hands emerging from it. Some moving, others still. Gonzalo Sánchez is 46 years old and from Adamuz, a small town in Córdoba with just over 4,000 inhabitants. Four kilometers from the town, amidst olive groves and forests, Two high-speed trains collided This Sunday at noon.

Adamuz is now the scene of the worst train tragedy of the decade, which has claimed at least 41 lives. Until now, the worst accident in Spain was the 2013 train crash in Santiago de Compostela (Galicia), which left 80 dead and more than 130 injured. The two trains involved in the accident in Córdoba had a total of 527 passengers, according to the list released by the authorities. Through the Integrated Data Center (CID), the Institute of Legal Medicine of Córdoba has received 37 of the 41 bodies located at the accident site, of which only five have been fully identified, all through fingerprints. To date, a total of 43 missing persons reports have been filed in Huelva, Madrid, Málaga, Córdoba, and Seville.

When he learned of the accident, Gonzalo Sánchez got on his quad bike and headed towards the train tracks. They're not at a station, but in an isolated, sunken area, accessible only by a winding road that was closed by the police on Monday. Only dirt tracks, constantly patrolled by Civil Guard off-road vehicles, allow you to get close and glimpse the disaster from afar. But Sánchez was able to get down to the tracks on his quad bike Sunday afternoon and didn't stop making trips until three in the morning. Six at a time. You can still see a few drops of blood on the quad. They asked him to go to the Alvia train car furthest away, one of the most damaged. Suddenly, the conversation with Gonzalo stops because Alberto asks for help. It's been 24 hours since the accident, but many questions remain.

Alberto's biggest worry is whether his five-months-pregnant friend will survive. The whole family was on the train, and now they all hope she'll be released from the hospital's intensive care unit (ICU). Ana, her sister, was with her in the carriage. She remembers the frustration of seeing people die and not being able to do anything. For now, the family admits they don't have a clear prognosis for the pregnant woman. Alberto is from Madrid, but he's come all the way to see her in the hospital. He's tried, but hasn't been able to. Meanwhile, they've asked him to look for Boro. He's a miniature schnauzer who was traveling with his friend and her family. The dog disappeared at the moment of impact. A rumor has spread on social media that he's been found safe and sound, so he's come from Madrid to look for him. That's precisely what Alberto is asking Gonzalo to do. However, no one in the neighborhood claims to know anything. Social media remains the epicenter of a desperate plea from many people searching for their loved ones.

Search for answers

On Monday afternoon, the municipal sports center in Adamuz was filled with piles of blankets and food scraps; the aftermath of a night many of those affected spent away from home. The search has now spread to Córdoba, Huelva, and Madrid, where the scene of families searching for their loved ones has been repeated. "We've searched everywhere and visited every hospital," Juan Barroso, spokesperson for a family from Punta Umbría (Huelva) with four missing members, told the media. The family's six-year-old daughter left the train on her own and is resting in a hotel. Later that afternoon, it was confirmed that all four members of this family had died. The 41 deaths have left behind heartbreaking images of families going to the Civil Guard headquarters in Córdoba to provide DNA samples for comparison with the deceased. Heartbreaking images, like those of families at a civic center in Córdoba itself, set up as a psychological support point, leaving in cars with their heads down and visibly emotional. The Red Cross representative admits that the atmosphere inside is "distressing." "The hours pass and they don't get any answers. We try to be there for them," she explains. Some will spend the night here. With each passing hour, she describes, that anxiety grows stronger and more visible. There are elderly people and young people, grandparents and children. The 41 deaths have also turned the Córdoba courthouse into a giant morgue. At night, the silence is broken only by emergency vehicles arriving at the site. "And we don't know what else is left," admits a police officer. He was recently at the train tracks and explains that there is still a lot of scrap metal to be removed. He doesn't know if there could be more victims. Another officer predicts that it will be days before there is a clear answer to this question. Along the winding road that connects the railway tracks to Adamuz, cranes, heavy machinery, police, and vehicles from the Military Emergency Unit pass by. Police officers are from all over, as are the Civil Protection volunteers. So too are the doctors and nurses from nearby towns who came to help on Sunday, and the bars that donated all the bread they had stored in the pavilions. This Monday, the pavilion emptied of those affected and filled with journalists. From Spain, from Europe, and from around the world. A tide of media floods this small town, the civic center in Córdoba where families are waiting in this terrible wait, the hospitals where survivors are fighting for their lives, and the morgue where the victims rest.