Two years ago on May 20, Esequiel Hernandez came home from school, ate
a sandwich, and went out to graze his herd of 30 goats near the Rio
Grande. Sometime between 6 p.m. and 7 p.m. he was shot to death by
camouflaged U.S. Marines who were watching for drug smugglers.

His tragic story was widely reported and generated popular outrage,
and has since passed from most people's memory.

But we will always remember the day Esequiel Hernandez died. May 20
is our wedding anniversary and that day a close friend treated us and
our kids to dinner at Friday's in Grapevine. Around 6 p.m. we crowded
into a booth next to a long table of 15 or 20 chattering, giggling
junior high girls who were having their end-of-school drill team banquet.

We had a wonderful time. We ordered lots of different entrees and
sampled each other's food. We laughed and joked and enjoyed the
energy of the surrounding crowd.

Now every time May 20 rolls around we can't help but remember. We
were halfway through a 14-ounce steak and slurping on frozen
margaritas as Esequiel lay dying, bleeding to death in a dusty hole
while soldiers of his own country stood by. He probably breathed his
last about the time our daughters dug into the fudge cake a la mode --
and the drill team presented gifts to their coaches.

Two more years and the drug war grinds on. Drugs are as easy to get
as pizza, and keep getting cheaper. More people are dying in botched
raids. More people are rotting in jail. How much longer will this war
continue?

BOB and CONNIE RAMSEY Irving