Family reeling one year after Walmart murders

At age 86, Angie Silva Englisbee stuck to her morning routine. She would attend Mass at St. Pius X Catholic Church in El Paso, then do her shopping at the neighborhood Walmart.

Englisbee’s mind was sharp. She rooted hard for the Dallas Cowboys, and she still drove her car. If she had a weak spot, it was her legs.

“She couldn’t walk fast,” said her niece, Karla Moya-Crites of Santa Fe.

No one would have believed foot speed would be important for Englisbee. But no one would have believed a gunman targeting Mexicans would attack inside a busy Walmart on a Saturday morning.

Englisbee was in the checkout line when the shooter opened fire one year ago, Aug. 3, 2019. She couldn’t escape.

The defendant, Patrick Crusius, was 21 at the time of the killings. Packing a rifle and ammunition, he drove 10 hours from Allen, Texas, to El Paso.

Crusius is charged with murdering Englisbee and 22 other people, as well as federal hate crimes resulting in their deaths. He has pleaded not guilty.

For Moya-Crites and the rest of Englisbee’s family, the last year has been a painful one. They have questions for which there are no good answers.

“Why didn’t anyone protest about these horrific killings? Is it because most people assume this community is not American citizens?” Moya-Crites wrote in a letter to me. “Is it because we often think they are not educated and come from a lower economic class? Shouldn’t all lives matter?”

Englisbee was born and raised in Santa Fe. A mother of eight, she was widowed in her 30s.

She supported her family as an organizer for a company that farmed out temporary workers. Englisbee also did odd jobs in El Paso, Moya-Crites said.

As news of the shootings broke, Englisbee’s family suspected the worst.

A son had phoned her at 10:35 a.m. She told him she was in the checkout line, almost to the register, so she’d

better end the call.

The killer opened fire four minutes later. Hours passed, but the family still didn’t know if Englisbee was among his victims. No one could reach her.

“We sat next to our phones and in front of our TV for any clue as to where she could be,” Moya-Crites said. “Hospitals didn’t have her listed as a patient. It was 4 p.m. when families of missing loved ones were ordered to go to an elementary school.”

The agonizing wait wasn’t over. Detectives at 9 p.m. told the family no information would be released for another 12 hours. Come back in the morning, they said.

Families settled into classrooms on their return. Counselors and chaplains stood by, a clear sign of what was coming.

“Late that afternoon, the detectives confirmed what we already knew, that my Aunt Angie was one of the victims,” Moya-Crites said. “Our family wanted to see her but still couldn’t.

“The detectives were still collecting the evidence for what is now a capital murder case, and unfortunately her body was evidence. She had to remain at Walmart until they collected all the evidence.”

The search for evidence in and out of the store continued for three weeks.

“My mom was so upset,” Moya-Crites said. “My mom and her sister were closest out of all the siblings. My mom couldn’t comprehend why it happened.”

One sight would later hearten the family. Three large flags marked the entrance of a memorial to the victims. One flag was for the United States, another for Mexico and the third for Texas. But they were treated as a display of one, Moya-Crites said.

To her, the flags were a singular tribute to everyone killed or injured in the store. Crosses and thousands of pictures of the victims filled out the memorial.

“I took my son with me and we held hands and read every sign and letter,” Moya-Crites said. “How do I explain to a 9-year-old why this happened? I didn’t have to. It spoke for itself. He saw and felt it.

“I came back to Santa Fe feeling different. Our lives had been changed. In the beginning we walked around with apprehension, questioning are we next? Do I have a target on my back because I am Hispanic? I kept wondering how can people hate so much they are willing to destroy innocent lives.”

The same questions linger a year later. Death from cancer or an auto accident would have been bad enough. A manifesto linked to the shooting suspect is harder for her to understand.

One line in the four-page screed screams of white supremacy: “If we can get rid of enough people, then our way of life can be more sustainable,” it says.

The gunman’s hunt for foreigners took him to El Paso, next-door neighbor to Juárez, Mexico. He had to know fallout from the killings would reach far beyond the two cities.

“My family will never be the same,” Moya-Crites said. “There are certain things we can control in our lives, but race and skin color are not among them.”

With the pain still raw, she and her family can’t help but think of how Englisbee died. Their solace is remembering how she lived.