"We are moving heaven and earth": the relatives of the missing are looking for answers

Urda (Toledo)Urda is a shattered and emotionally devastated town. These are not the words of this passing visitor, but the generalized feeling of the residents of this small town in Castile-La Mancha that will stop being known for its Christ and will instead be remembered for a railway tragedy that is still hard to digest. At eight in the evening, almost twelve hours after the disaster, the Town Hall square pays tribute to the dead while the relatives of the missing are—or are arriving—in Toledo. Many have spent the afternoon at the public school receiving psychological care and, afterwards, have had to travel to the provincial capital to file a report with the Civil Guard and provide DNA samples to find out if their loved ones are among the fatalities. So that they can identify them if that is the case.

Anguish and fear mix with anxiety and a lack of information, both among those who were on board the trains and cannot find their relatives or friends, and among those who are traveling to seek answers. "The suitcases flew. I curled up in the seats, I have bruises on my knees. A rail entered my carriage, it was two meters away from me," recalls Antonio, who is accompanied by his daughter. He is one of the injured. He will also have to travel to Toledo because he does not know where the companion he was traveling with is. "Afterwards I got off, I went to the seventh carriage, where my companion was, to look for him. But I didn't find him. We don't know where he is, we are moving heaven and earth to see if he appears, but there isn't much information," he laments.

Renfe has provided accommodation there so they can spend the night, but, little by little, and with deep pain, Urda is emptying out. The neighbors who are reliving the experience and the journalists looking for testimonies remain there. In Urda, the Ministry of Justice has reinforced courts and forensic doctors and four offices have been activated to obtain DNA from relatives and provide them with psychological support in Madrid, Toledo, Cordoba, and Seville. It is also planned that three doctors from the National Institute of Toxicology and Forensic Sciences of Madrid will travel there to support the collection of DNA samples and their dispatch for analysis.

But it is not easy to attend to the family members. Uncertainty overwhelms them. "Emotional ventilation," prescribes one of the psychologists who has attended to them. They must express how they feel. But it is difficult to tell them anything. Antonio himself explains that he has participated in the rescue efforts, that they were able to pull out the injured people by making a stretcher with fiberglass from the carriages to be able to take them to a safer area. Progressively, hugging each other and with heads bowed, they leave the school pavilion that has welcomed them. They have been brought food, drinks, and heaters. Today it will again be full of children, who were also there yesterday early in the morning, oblivious to the catastrophe that had happened a few kilometers away.

The consternation of a supportive town

The town comes together once again for the minute of silence called at all town halls. “We suffer the pain that many families have suffered,” expresses Manuel Galán, mayor of Urda, with a microphone. He wants to “accompany the families in their pain,” highlights the “excellent collaboration” between all administrations, and takes pride in the response of the people: “There are times when these serious situations bring out the best in us.”

Because if there is one thing everyone highlights, it is how the people of Urda have reacted. The town “has gone all out.” All the neighbors say so. “We were known for the Christ and now we will be known for this,” laments a young man, chatting with his group of friends. It is not the only conversation where the Christ of Urda appears. Its big day is September 29th, just a month ago, when the town doubles or triples its population due to all the people who come to see the procession.

Yolanda has spent hours at the pavilion helping. “We will be talking about this for a long time,” she assures. But at the same time, she celebrates that the town has been “exemplary.” Another neighbor found out first thing in the morning. She went by car to help bring the wounded to the town. It was a “desolate atmosphere,” she describes. Sara also used her seven-seater minivan to transport people. Two married couples, an aunt, and a niece. The most seriously injured have been transferred to hospitals. There was no shortage of willingness to help.

Gabriel was working in the field very close to the crash site. “I heard a crash like that of a bomb,” he recalls. And then he saw how the tail of the Iryo train was catching fire. Fifteen minutes later, Francisco arrived near the area. He was riding a bicycle with a friend and, very quickly, they saw the place filling up with local police, Civil Guard, and ambulances.

Sebas, his wife, has been helping the relatives and the wounded as best she could. "You would see them and they would ask for a hug to have a bit of comfort," she explains. Another neighbor from the town was also helping as best she could: “I give them my shoulder, which is what they need.” The good side always comes out. “I don't know where they got so much food from,” exclaimed a lady while she waited for the minute of silence to begin. She was right. So much so that the bars have closed to be able to prepare food for the victims and their families. The surrounding towns are also helping. In fact, there are establishments that have even run out of bread. Urda will not forget a day like today. But neither will it forget the warmth they have offered in the most difficult moments.