The income was not abundant, but it was enough to keep her children fed, clothed, and educated. Her relationship with Ana was particularly close. As the eldest child and only girl in the family, Ana had assumed maternal responsibilities toward her siblings from an early age. María Teresa relied on her not only for household chores but also as a confidant and emotional support.

“Ana is my right arm,” María Teresa used to tell the neighbors. Without her, she wouldn’t know how to handle everything on her own. This healthy codependency made it completely unthinkable for Ana to voluntarily leave the family home. She knew the financial difficulties her mother was facing.

She knew that Jorge and Patricia needed constant supervision and understood that their absence would leave María Teresa in a desperate situation. September 18, 2002, began like any other Tuesday at the Morales home. María Teresa said goodbye to her children at 6:30 a.m., as she had done for years. She kissed Ana on the forehead, reminded her to take good care of her siblings, and promised to return before 7 p.m.

It was the last time she saw her daughter walking freely around her own home. The routine of September 18th proceeded normally until 4:30 p.m., when Ana realized there wasn’t enough milk to make the coffee with milk Jorge and Patricia were having for their snack.

It was a minor issue, but one that required an immediate solution. Ana put away the sewing project she’d been working on. She took 20 pesos from the money María Teresa had set aside for the day’s expenses and headed for the front door. “I’m going to get some milk from Don Aurelio’s store,” she called to her brother Jorge, who was playing in the backyard. “I’ll be back in 10 minutes.” Jorge responded with a distracted gesture.

Later, those would be the last words he would hear from his sister for 15 years. Don Aurelio’s store was located four blocks from the Morales House, on a busy corner where three public transportation routes converged. It was a family business that had been serving the Santa María neighborhood for more than 20 years.

The route from the house to the store was completely familiar to Ana. She had traveled that route hundreds of times, both day and night, without ever experiencing any security problems. Don Aurelio would later recall that Ana arrived at his store at approximately 5:15 p.m. She bought a liter of whole milk, paid with a 20-peso bill, and received 8 pesos in change. The transaction took less than 3 minutes, and Ana showed no signs of concern.

She seemed normal as always, Don Aurelio would tell authorities weeks later. She said hello, bought the milk, asked how my wife was, and said goodbye cordially. According to multiple testimonies from neighbors, Ana left the store at approximately 5:00 p.m., walking home along her usual route.

Three people confirmed having seen her during the first two minutes of the journey: Mrs. Maldonado, who was sweeping in front of her house; Raúl Ibarra, a young man waiting for the bus; and Carmen Soto, a girl playing at the gate of her home.

Everyone agreed that Ana was carrying a plastic bag of milk, walking at a normal pace, and didn’t appear to be followed. However, Ana Morales never arrived home. Jorge began to worry at 5:30 p.m. when his sister hadn’t returned after nearly an hour of absence for a task that usually took 10 minutes. Patricia arrived home from school at 6:00 p.m. and immediately asked for Ana.

At 6:30 a.m., Jorge decided to travel the route to Don Aurelio’s store to look for his sister. He found the store operating normally, but Don Aurelio confirmed that Ana had been there and then gone for more than an hour. before.

Jorge carefully walked the four blocks between the store and his home, checking adjacent streets, asking neighbors, and even exploring the small park where some young people occasionally gathered. He found no trace of Ana or the liter of milk she had bought. His concern turned to alarm when María Teresa returned from work at 7:00 p.m. and found Jorge and Patricia waiting for her with anxious expressions.

“Where’s Ana?” was María Teresa’s first question upon seeing her youngest children alone in the house. “We don’t know, Mom,” Jorge replied, his voice breaking. She went to buy milk at 5:00 p.m. and never returned. María Teresa felt like the world had stopped around her. In 15 years of living in the Santa María neighborhood, in 19 years of knowing her daughter, Ana had never disappeared without warning.

She was a young woman with predictable routines, clear responsibilities, and constant communication with her family.

Something terrible had happened during those four blocks between Don Aurelio’s store and the family home.