The long and tragic wait for the families in Cordoba: "You don't lose hope, but you know that he's no longer here"

CordovaA man and a woman sit in the Roche café, on the corner of two residential streets in Córdoba. He drinks a coffee and she drinks a glass of milk, finishing off the crumbs of two pastries they've already eaten. They barely speak. Both stare out at the street through a large window. Outside, it's dark, and hardly any cars pass by. Their gazes are completely lost. Her name is Blanca, and his is José, and they recently learned that a relative died in the collision between two high-speed trains in Adamuz, in the province of Córdoba.

Next door, seven people sit at a large table. Two women are crying. A man goes outside to talk on the phone. "Yes, he was a great man," he keeps repeating. Another man also goes outside for a smoke; his hands tremble as he rolls the cigarette, which he draws on intensely. They, too, received the bad news of the death of someone close to them this afternoon. José gets up and pays at the bar with coins. They leave the café and unlock the car to head back towards Huelva.

This was the fate of Víctor, their brother-in-law. In recent days, he, his wife, and their seven-year-old son had been in Nicaragua. She's from there; he's from Bolivia. They lived in Huelva. "A flight delay saved my sister and the boy's lives," Blanca explains. They don't know exactly why, but the woman and child's ticket didn't work, and they had to take another flight back to Madrid. Víctor took the flight he was supposed to. And once at Barajas Airport, he was going to take her home. He arrived just in time. "If their flight hadn't been delayed, my sister and the boy would be dead too," Blanca says. From the train car, Víctor sent an audio message to his partner saying that everything was fine. But he didn't say anything else. "We'd been looking for him for two days," José says, resigned.

They searched every hospital in Córdoba without finding him. "We were hoping he'd stayed in a hole, alive; that they'd lift a piece of the train car and find him safe and sound," says Blanca. They prepared for the worst when they decided to have their son give his DNA to forensic services to find out if his father was one of the victims, a gesture many families have made in recent days. "You don't lose hope, but deep down you know he's gone," she continues.

They waited at the Ponent Civic Center, next to the Córdoba bullring, in a room with other families who were also waiting. It's a psychological support center with Red Cross volunteers. "We've supported each other," José explains. The worst came when they were taken upstairs. They already knew what it meant. They were told that the boy's DNA had tested positive for one of the victims.

Epicenter of grief

In that civic center in Córdoba, the families of the victims of the train accident are gathering to mourn. Their grief is being broadcast live by several television cameras waiting outside the police cordon that has been set up around the building. The image of families breaking through the police line and entering is repeated. And others leaving with bad news. One man laments that his stepson has died. "And Renfe still won't let us bury him. They just keep talking about paperwork and more paperwork. It's unfair. Bureaucracy can't come first," he complains, visibly emotional, as he walks a small dog around the civic center.

Paradoxically, Córdoba has become the epicenter of a tragedy that doesn't affect its own town. The accident occurred on the outskirts of Adamuz, in a wooded area. None of the victims were from that small town. Most of the victims were traveling to Huelva or Madrid, and they were from those towns. The Alvia train was driven by Pablo, originally from Alcorcón, who died in the accident. Among the deceased was Ricardo Chamorro, former acting director of the Huelva prison, who ran a well-known exam preparation academy and was returning from the capital after accompanying students to an exam. Exam preparation tutor Andrés Gallardo also lost his life, as did candidates like Mario, Pepi, and her daughter Ana. Journalist Óscar Toro and photographer María Clauss also perished. There are many more names that complete the tragic list of victims of the worst train disaster of the decade. Why it happened remains an unanswered question. The victims' families are also searching for answers. Early Tuesday morning, a woman demanded to be allowed into the City of Justice in Córdoba, where the bodies of those killed in the accident are being held. The woman explains that she first went to the hospital, then to the psychological support center set up in a community center, and finally to the Civil Guard headquarters. But she can't find her uncle.

Blanca and José receive a call before getting into the car. It's a family friend offering his condolences. "It's absolutely awful," Blanca says into the phone. Finally, she thanks him for the gesture, hangs up, the car starts, and they head back towards Huelva.