Bringing up the Bodies: The forensic anthropologists who redress migrant death in Texas
The Baffler, November 2023
“In one case, a groundskeeper pointed out a site where he had forgotten to replace three markers after mowing the grass. They dug there, and instead of three, there turned out to be eight sets of remains. Later, a man driving through the cemetery tipped the group off without even stopping his truck. “He just slowed down enough to be like, ‘There’s a bunch buried right here, along the street,’” Spradley said. Right where he’d indicated, they found four or five small, custom-made boxes containing unidentified remains.
Another time, a woman approached Spradley saying, “My husband doesn’t want me to tell you this,” before continuing, “I couldn’t buy the plot next to my father because the funeral home told me that—she used the term ‘illegal’—‘illegal people were buried next to him.’” They went to the area next to where the woman’s father was buried and started to dig an exploratory trench. Immediately, they started to see depressions and soft soil—telltale signs of recent burials. They found two unidentified bodies right next to the father, as though the funeral home had simply taken advantage of the open hole to dispose of some remains. They kept digging in case there were more. In the end, they found twelve bodies.
By now, OpID has conducted exhumations in seven counties across South Texas. Between those recoveries and direct transfers from surrounding counties, they have 495 cases, 101 of which have been identified.“
The Baffler, November 2023
“In one case, a groundskeeper pointed out a site where he had forgotten to replace three markers after mowing the grass. They dug there, and instead of three, there turned out to be eight sets of remains. Later, a man driving through the cemetery tipped the group off without even stopping his truck. “He just slowed down enough to be like, ‘There’s a bunch buried right here, along the street,’” Spradley said. Right where he’d indicated, they found four or five small, custom-made boxes containing unidentified remains.
Another time, a woman approached Spradley saying, “My husband doesn’t want me to tell you this,” before continuing, “I couldn’t buy the plot next to my father because the funeral home told me that—she used the term ‘illegal’—‘illegal people were buried next to him.’” They went to the area next to where the woman’s father was buried and started to dig an exploratory trench. Immediately, they started to see depressions and soft soil—telltale signs of recent burials. They found two unidentified bodies right next to the father, as though the funeral home had simply taken advantage of the open hole to dispose of some remains. They kept digging in case there were more. In the end, they found twelve bodies.
By now, OpID has conducted exhumations in seven counties across South Texas. Between those recoveries and direct transfers from surrounding counties, they have 495 cases, 101 of which have been identified.“
Caroline Eaton Tracey writes about the environment, migration, and the arts in the US Southwest, Mexico, and their borderlands. She speaks and works in English, Spanish, and Russian. Her first book, SALT LAKES, will be published by W.W. Norton.
Caroline’s reporting appears in the New Yorker, n+1, New York Review of Books, High Country News, and elsewhere, as well as in Spanish in Mexico’s Nexos.
In 2022 she was awarded the Waterston Prize for Desert Writing and in 2023 she received Columbia University’s Ira A. Lipman Fellowship in Journalism and Human and Civil Rights and a Silvers Foundation Work-in-Progress grant.
Caroline holds a PhD in Geography from the University of California, Berkeley. She lives with her wife, Mexican architect and sculptor Mariana GJP, between Tucson, Arizona and Mexico City.
She is represented by Bridget Matzie of Aevitas Creative Management.
Caroline’s reporting appears in the New Yorker, n+1, New York Review of Books, High Country News, and elsewhere, as well as in Spanish in Mexico’s Nexos.
In 2022 she was awarded the Waterston Prize for Desert Writing and in 2023 she received Columbia University’s Ira A. Lipman Fellowship in Journalism and Human and Civil Rights and a Silvers Foundation Work-in-Progress grant.
Caroline holds a PhD in Geography from the University of California, Berkeley. She lives with her wife, Mexican architect and sculptor Mariana GJP, between Tucson, Arizona and Mexico City.
She is represented by Bridget Matzie of Aevitas Creative Management.
Caroline Eaton Tracey escribe sobre el medioambiente, la migración, el arte y la literatura en México, el Suroeste de Estados Unidos y su frontera. Habla ingles, español y ruso. Su primer libro, SALT LAKES, será publicado bajo el sello de la editorial W.W. Norton.
Sus artículos aparecen en The New Yorker, n+1, New York Review of Books y High Country News entre otros lugares. En español escribe frecuentemente para la revista Nexos.
En 2022 ganó el Premio Waterston por Escritura del Desierto y en 2023 recibió la beca Ira A. Lipman de periodismo de derechos humanos y civiles de Columbia University y una beca de la Fundación Silvers.
Caroline es Doctora en Geografía de la Universidad de California–Berkeley. Vive con su esposa, la arquitecta y escultora mexicana Mariana GJP, entre Tucson, Arizona y la Ciudad de México.
La representa Bridget Matzie de la agencia literaria Aevitas Creative Management.
Sus artículos aparecen en The New Yorker, n+1, New York Review of Books y High Country News entre otros lugares. En español escribe frecuentemente para la revista Nexos.
En 2022 ganó el Premio Waterston por Escritura del Desierto y en 2023 recibió la beca Ira A. Lipman de periodismo de derechos humanos y civiles de Columbia University y una beca de la Fundación Silvers.
Caroline es Doctora en Geografía de la Universidad de California–Berkeley. Vive con su esposa, la arquitecta y escultora mexicana Mariana GJP, entre Tucson, Arizona y la Ciudad de México.
La representa Bridget Matzie de la agencia literaria Aevitas Creative Management.