The family of
Juan Cruz, a South Florida man police say was murdered while protecting his gay cousin and
other friends from a killer hurling homophobic taunts, dealt this weekend with
the sudden loss of the 22-year-old. But it came as no surprise that Cruz would
act so heroically even in the face of deadly violence.
“I know he
would save anybody’s life,” says sister Erika Cruz. “It doesn’t matter if they
are gay. It doesn’t matter if they are a friend or a stranger. He would still
be of that mind.”
Those mourning
Juan Cruz say he was always an ally, and partly attribute that to the number of
loved ones in his own life who came out as gay or lesbian. Erika Cruz, now 27,
came out as lesbian to her family at age 17 and recalls it didn’t phase her
little brother at all. “He didn’t care if I was gay or straight; he always loved
me the way I am,” she says. “He would tell me, ‘Girl, you are lucky to have a
lot of cute girlfriends.’”
Though Juan
Cruz always identified as straight, he had seven cousins who came out as LGBT.
He was out with one of those cousins, Pedro Cruz, on Saturday night when a
run-in with another group of people outside a Lake Worth restaurant turned
violent.
Pedro Cruz, 36,
breaks into tears as he describes the evening to The Advocate. An
immigrant from El Salvador and a Spanish speaker, Pedro recounted events in his
native tongue while Brenda Carballo, another of Juan Cruz’s cousins, translated
the words to English. “I don’t understand and don’t know how to explain why
everything happened the way it happened,” he says.
Pedro and two
of his friends went out Saturday evening with Juan and ended up at Las Flores,
a Salvadorean restaurant, and enjoyed a relatively uneventful evening. Pedro
does recall a man, later identified by law enforcement as Nelson Hernandez
Mena, in another party at the restaurant glaring at him through the evening.
But Pedro says it wasn’t until he, Juan, and company left the restaurant that
trouble began.
“We were
leaving when the other group followed us to the entrance of the restaurant,” he
says. “It’s hard for me to think about everything that happened.”
Juan and Pedro
Cruz stood side-by-side when Hernandez Mena and four other men confronted them.
One of the men in the other group said that in other nations, men like Pedro
and his friends would get killed. Hernandez Mena then said, “In my country I
kill them like rats,” according to Pedro Cruz.
Juan tried to
break up the taunts, saying, “Man, don’t say that. We are in the United States
and we are all the same,” Carballo recounts. “You need to calm down before we
call the cops.”
But then Nelson
took out a gun and started to fire, first at the ground. Pedro’s feet felt
cold, and he worried he’d been hit. He hadn’t, but when he looked up at Juan,
he saw that blood covered his young cousin’s face. “After that, he just fell to
the floor,” says Pedro. “I yelled at him, ‘Juan, what happened?’ But he just
never got up again.”
The scene
turned to chaos and most of the men fled, Pedro says, while he tried to help
his cousin. Neighbors who overheard the struggle called 911 and came down to
help. Palm Beach County Sheriff’s investigators would contact and interview
witnesses. Another person in Pedro’s party, who so far has not been identified
by investigators, had suffered a gunshot to his ankle but would recover. Sunday
morning, deputies arrested Hernandez Mena, a Honduran national, on charges of
first-degree murder, attempted murder, and aggravated assault with a firearm.
Hernandez Mena
told police that he’d consumed 15 to 20 beers that evening, and that his pistol
had been purchased off the street for protection. He alleged that Juan Cruz’s
party started a fight and that he defended himself. A judge Monday denied
Hernandez Mena bond. Carballo, who attended Hernandez Mena’s first court
appearance, says the family wants justice and requests that the state pursue
the death penalty.
Juan Cruz’s
older sister Nancy Benitez this weekend posted a GoFundMe page seeking
$12,000 to cover funeral expenses. Perhaps thanks to news around the murder,
the page in three days raised more than $5,500, including more than $650 in
anonymous donations.
In his 22
years, Juan Cruz lived a sometimes tumultuous life. He was born in El Salvador,
and his mother, Amanda Cruz, left for the United States when he was just 2
years old, but she eventually amassed enough money to bring her younger
children to the United States, including Juan when he was 7 years old. The
fifth of seven children, he spent much of his childhood in Florida, attending
two elementary schools between age 7 and 12 before moving to Charlottesville,
Va., with Amanda, Erika (pictured below with Juan), and younger sisters
Kassandra and Sarah.
He attended
Jack Jouett Middle School in Virginia but didn’t continue his education past
eighth grade. A little more than three years ago, he moved back to Florida
and started working in various construction trades, first as a landscaper and
later installing drywall. He worked for a short time as a cashier in Lake
Worth, but was doing landscaping again shortly before his death, according to
cousin Brenda Carballo. He actively sought a better job, and it was landing
work as a painter that prompted his going out to celebrate with with Pedro on
Saturday night.
“We were all
like brothers and sisters,” says Carballo, who has handled many of the media
interviews following the shooting. She says Juan never gave a second thought to
whether anyone in the family was gay or straight, and would constantly tell his
gay cousins and his older sister not to let anybody judge them.
“‘Always keep
your head held high,’ he’d say,” Carballo recalls. “‘Don’t ever let nobody make
you feel less than what you are.’ That was one of his qualities. And you could
be President Obama or a homeless person on the street, he would talk to you the
same way, with the same kind of respect.”
On Juan’s
Facebook page, he mocked right-wing politicians and joked about partying. He
regularly posted pictures of family, especially his young niece. He would post
in English or Spanish alternately, and said that once he mastered Portuguese
he’d be trilingual. The night of his death, he checked in on Facebook at Las
Flores with the uneventful status update, “Just cooling.”
Family says
that in real life, he sought to get his life on track. According to Pedro Cruz,
Juan had set an appointment with an immigration attorney for Monday, the day
after he died, and had plans to seek U.S. citizenship through the DREAM Act,
which grants a path to undocumented individuals who emigrated to the U.S. as
children and attended school in America.
“In my mind,”
Erika Cruz says, “I think of everything that happened to him and it’s not fair.
And I think of everything good he did when he was alive." Erika lives with
her fiancée in California — Juan had told her that her current girlfriend was
the one and that she needed to settle down. The sister last saw her brother in
April. “We would always fight, to play and stuff, but we always loved each
other,” she recalls.
The family
members, still dealing with the aftermath of the shooting, have yet to finalize
funeral arrangements but have gathered in Florida to support one another.
Investigators say that in interviews with Hernandez Mena, the suspect indicated
Cruz was not his intended target when he pulled out his weapon. That’s no
surprise to Pedro. Juan was straight. He knows for whom that bullet was
intended.
“I’m only here
thanks to God and to Juan,” he says. “If Juan hadn’t pushed me out of the way,
I would be dead, but at least nothing would have happened to Juan.
“I want to
remember him as my hero. I will always remember him as my little cousin. He was
just a kid.”
Pedro says that
right now, he sees Juan’s bloodied face every time he shuts his eyes.
“Sometimes I call to his phone, to hear it go straight to voice mail just so I
hear his voice. I like to think he’s going to pick up the phone,” he says, “but
he never does anymore.”
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