Three long years ago, in a southwest Texas town now almost synonymous with the tragedy, something happened in an elementary school so horrifying that it nearly defied meaning altogether, challenging any sense of a guiding plan or greater judiciousness in human affairs. Nineteen children. And two teachers. Gone. Uvalde—a place name to be forever followed by a fraught pause.
What was stunning then, and stunning still, was the almost-immediate insistence on meaning from the families who lost their children. Parents, siblings, tíos, and grandparents suddenly coalesced to push for accountability from both school district leaders and the myriad police agencies whose outrageously disorganized response exacerbated the disaster, and to push for gun control measures that could prevent such a threat to other parents’ children in the first place.
Among that coalition of the bereaved was Jesse Rizo, an uncle who lost his niece, 9-year-old Jackie Cazares. Rizo became a regular at local government meetings, exacting in his calls for justice yet calm in his delivery, along with Cazares’ immediate family members and many other leaders. Last May, Rizo was elected to the Uvalde CISD school board, one target of the families’ diverse demands.
