On October 15, 1987, an 8-year-old boy vanished without a trace on the streets of Guadalajara, Jalisco.

For 25 years, his family lived with the most agonizing uncertainty imaginable: not knowing what happened to their son.

But in 2012, when his older sister decided to renovate the family home, what she found in the basement would change everything they thought they knew about that autumn afternoon.

The truth was so close that they had walked right over it for decades without ever suspecting it.

This is the story of Miguel Ángel Herrera, a case that proved that the darkest secrets can remain hidden in the most familiar places.

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Now let’s go back to Guadalajara in 1987 and discover how it all began.

Guadalajara in 1987 was a rapidly growing city with nearly 3 million inhabitants who watched their metropolis expand into the surrounding hills and ravines.

The Analco neighborhood, where the Herrera family lived, still retained that provincial charm that made it special: adobe houses with central courtyards, cobblestone streets where children played soccer until sunset, and neighbors who had known each other for generations.

The Herrera family had arrived in Analco in 1975 when Roberto Herrera got a job as a mechanic in a shop on Calzada Independencia.

Together with his wife, Carmen, they had built a solid home in a two-story house with a large backyard and a basement that Roberto had converted into his workshop.

It was a typical construction for the area: thick adobe walls, high ceilings with wooden beams, and that natural coolness that made the Guadalajara summer heat bearable.

Miguel Ángel was the youngest of three brothers.

At eight years old, he had the boundless energy typical of children his age, but also a curiosity that sometimes worried his parents.

He loved exploring every corner of the neighborhood.

He knew all the stray dogs by name and had a habit of taking toys apart to see how they worked.

His older sister, Patricia, 16, often scolded him for getting into trouble, but deep down she adored him.

His middle brother, Javier, 12, was his partner in adventure and his protector when his mischief got out of hand.

Miguel Ángel’s routine was as predictable as clockwork.

Every morning, after the breakfast of refried beans and tortillas his mother prepared, he walked the four blocks to Benito Juárez Elementary School.

In the afternoons, he returned home for lunch, did his homework under Patricia’s supervision, and then went out to play with the neighborhood children until Carmen called him for dinner.

On Sundays, the whole family attended Mass at the San José parish and afterward bought shaved ice at Don Aurelio’s stand.

Don Aurelio had known Miguel Ángel since he was a baby.

Roberto Herrera was a man of fixed routines and solid principles.

He would get up before dawn, eat breakfast in silence while listening to the news on the radio, and arrive at the workshop before his coworkers.

In the afternoons, after work, he would lock himself in the basement of his house, where he repaired appliances to earn extra money.

He was a man of few words, but his neighbors respected him for his honesty and his skill at fixing anything with a motor or wires.

Carmen, for her part, was the heart of the family.

Originally from a town near Lagos, she had come to Guadalajara from Moreno with dreams of a better life for her children.

She worked part-time at a bakery downtown, but her true calling was caring for her family.

She knew all the mothers in the neighborhood, participated in the school fairs, and had that special ability to make any problem seem solvable with a hug and a bowl of pozole.

The Analco neighborhood in those years had a sense of security that no longer exists in big cities.

Children could play in the streets without their parents worrying too much.

Neighbors looked out for each other, and the only crime anyone remembered for years was the theft of a bicycle in 1984.

That’s why what happened on October 15, 1987, shook not only the Herrera family but the entire community.

October 15, 1987, dawned with that typical crispness of a Guadalajara autumn.

Miguel Ángel got up as usual at 7:00 a.

m.

, dressed in his navy blue school uniform, and ate the molletes his mother had made for him.

Carmen noticed that the boy was especially lively that morning, talking nonstop about a science project.