Jessica and Ryan Ramirez no longer reside in Uvalde.The anguish of facing each day in the very city where their vibrant 10-year-old daughter, Alithia, was brutally slain in her classroom, alongside 18 fellow students and two teachers, became unbearable.
"I didn't feel safe," Jessica confesses. "Moving back to our hometown was our only viable option."
Presently, they dwell an hour's drive away, surrounded by supportive family members who offer much-needed emotional solace. Ryan, donning a tattoo of Alithia's name on his right forearm, echoes his wife's sentiments. Uvalde held nothing but anguish for them.
"Merely hearing an ambulance or sirens, catching sight of school buses... it all thrusts us back to that dreaded day when we frantically searched for Alithia," Ryan shares.
Alithia had been in Room 112 of Robb Elementary School when the 18-year-old assailant barged in, ruthlessly extinguishing the lives of innocent children with an automatic rifle he had legally acquired on his birthday.
I initially encountered Alithia's parents merely a week after the assault. Inside a residence situated on the outskirts of Uvalde, with bedsheets hung over the windows to shroud the sunlight, they recounted their daughter's aspirations of studying art abroad and exploring Paris. Within her bedroom, her art accolades, plush toys, and football medals remained untouched, exactly as she had left them.
A year later, they shared their story with me once again, this time in a static dwelling on a small parcel of land, an orange flag bearing Alithia's name fluttering on the porch. Inside, they diligently recreate her bedroom, transforming it into a sort of sanctuary, meticulously adding each teddy bear and vibrant drawing.
They yearn for the new home to offer their two other children a space to frolic, liberated, if only temporarily, from the darkness that has engulfed their young lives.
Throughout the past 12 months, the entire family has grappled with comprehending the events that unfolded within Robb Elementary School, struggling to accept why Alithia no longer appears after playtime with her siblings, requesting a drink and a snack.
Beyond the overwhelming grief, anger dominates the family's emotions. They find it incomprehensible that 376 heavily armed law enforcement officers lingered in the hallway outside Alithia's classroom for 77 agonizing minutes while the assailant mercilessly slaughtered the children, only breaching the door and neutralizing him thereafter.
Body-camera footage reveals errors, confusion, and communication failures among senior officers, which the families believe resulted in the loss of numerous young lives.
In a scathing report issued by the investigative committee of the Texas House of Representatives, the incident was later described as a display of "egregiously poor decision-making."
Ryan possesses a mild-mannered demeanor and speaks softly. However, the rage in his voice becomes palpable with the mere mention of the authorities' actions on that fateful day. "They stood there and said 'Hold on.' But there was a child on the phone pleading for help. And they kept saying, '[the gunman] is still inside. He's still there.'"
"Are they just going to stand around? If that's all they're going to do, they should relinquish their badges."
While some families have channeled their grief and anger into advocacy, campaigning for changes in gun legislation, Jessica and Ryan have chosen to steer clear of politics. Instead, they remain profoundly affected by the events of that day and the complete failure of the authorities to ensure the safety of their children.
"Do whatever it takes. Get injured, get killed. That's part of wearing a badge: to protect and serve. But they didn't do the first thing, which was to protect... It infuriates me to my core."
"The children simply wanted help. They just wanted to escape from there," Jessica laments. "But it seemed like the police just didn't care. They simply didn't care."
The families remain in a state of uncertainty, still awaiting answers to the most fundamental questions: How did this tragedy occur? Who bears responsibility for allowing it to happen?
"This is about holding everyone present on that day accountable," declared Don McLaughlin, the Mayor of Uvalde, in a recent interview with BBC News. However, the pursuit of answers has been met with obstacles from the outset. "We've faced roadblocks since day one."
Mr. McLaughlin emphasizes that when the answers finally emerge, the necessary actions will be taken without hesitation. "We will do whatever is required." Nevertheless, such assurances are unlikely to bring solace or comfort to Jessica. "They let me down. I can't trust anyone."
This week, the family will return to Uvalde for a memorial event, which will include the symbolic release of 21 butterflies and a walk past the city's murals, each dedicated to one of the victims.
Alithia's mural incorporates her own artwork, including her award-winning anti-bullying poster and some designs she created for Mother's Day.
"I don't have good days," Jessica confides. "Even when we have a pleasant time with the other children, I struggle to hold back tears because Alithia isn't here to enjoy it with us."