The heat presses down near the ocean’s edge. Hours pass, and the patrols look for shade, officials fan themselves, reporters lean back — but they keep going. They walk, they ask, they insist, they jot things down: a name, a date, another place they’ve never heard of. They work even with the life jackets from the boat ride still on; they don’t take them off, in case there isn’t enough time. They’ve spent 16 months searching, and this is the first time they’ve been able to do it while standing on the same ground their missing loved ones — their children, a grandson, a brother — once stood on; seeing the mangroves, the palm‑thatch roofs, the lagoon brushing up against the Pacific, all of it they are certain — certain — their loved ones also saw.

On December 21, 2024, the trail of 40 migrants vanished in San José El Hueyate, in the Mexican state of Chiapas. They boarded a boat bound for Juchitán de Zaragoza, Oaxaca, also in Mexico. They were never heard from again. The families didn’t know — couldn’t have known — that another group of at least 20 people had disappeared in the same place and along the same route just two months earlier, on October 21, 2024. And another group, 23 migrants, also vanished from a nearby port on their way to the same destination on September 5, 2024. They, the searchers, are seven; they, the missing, are 83. There may be more — they don’t know, they cannot know.

On December 21, 2024, 40 migrants vanished in San José El Hueyate, Chiapas, Mexico. They boarded a boat bound for Juchitán de Zaragoza, Oaxaca, also in Mexico. They were never heard from again. Their families didn’t know — they couldn’t know — but another group, of at least 20 people, had disappeared in the same place and on the same route just two months earlier, on October 21, 2024. And yet another group, with 23 migrants, also disappeared from a nearby port on September 5, 2024, heading for the same destination. Seven relatives are here to search for them; 83 are missing. There could be more; they don’t know, they can’t know.

Alicia Santos, Isis Pérez, Elizabeth Guevara, Margarita Bravo and Lázara Fernández have come from Cuba. Óscar Hernández, from Honduras, and José Quindil, from Ecuador. After 16 months, the government has granted them a visa to enter the country so they can “search.”

Search: put up posters with faces, ask questions, ask again, learn names they had never heard before. The permit — and this matters — is not to investigate. That, they are told, is something the Chiapas state Attorney’s Office must do. It is the office that holds the case file and that, in more than a year, has not traced the phones of the missing, nor those of their smugglers, nor those of the last people who saw them. The office hasn’t summoned anyone, and it has no line of investigation, much less any suspects.

“We wish the Attorney General’s Office had done more before we arrived,” says Margarita Bravo.

“We gave them enough information to search, and they didn’t,” adds Isis Pérez.

“The fact that we have to be here to look for our children means the authorities haven’t done their job,” remarks Alicia Santos.

These seven — taxi drivers, accountants, biologists, retirees, homemakers, government workers — boarded a plane for the first time, left their home countries for the first time, and landed in a country about which the only thing they knew was that it had swallowed their families.

The lack of answers from the Mexican Attorney General’s Office (FGR) — which took nearly a year just to give them a case number — has shaken the families, though it comes as no surprise in a country with more than 130,000 missing people, where families are left to search for their loved ones without any state support.

This week, the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR) underscored something the U.N. has been warning about repeatedly: in Mexico, disappearance is “widespread,” “indiscriminate,” a humanitarian crisis that can affect anyone and that state agents allow or participate in. The government of Claudia Sheinbaum insists that addressing this crisis is now a “national priority,” but the last time — this past Monday — officials dared to say it out loud, a mother who has spent 21 years looking for her daughter shouted: “What hope can any victim in this country have?” Silence.

The detectives

Alicia Santos is tall, a leader, an owl‑eyed observer: she is searching for her son, Jorge Lozada, 24.

Isis Pérez hugs hard, investigates hard, remembers hard: she is searching for her daughter, Elianis Morejón, 18.

Elizabeth Guevara prefers to speak little in public and to pray on her knees; she is firm when she says she never feels fear: she is searching for her daughter, Lorena Rosabal, 28.

Margarita Bravo smiles even when she cries, the mother‑figure among the mothers: she is searching for her daughter, Meiling Álvarez, 40, and for her grandson, Samei Reyes, 14. That teenager with the shy smile is also being searched for by his other grandmother, Lázara Fernández. These are the Cuban searchers.

There is also Óscar Hernández, with his dark little notebook, his gentle smile, his wariness: he is searching for his younger brother, Ricardo Hernández, a 33‑year‑old Honduran.

And completing the group is José Quindil, who has been wiping away tears ever since he arrived from Cotopaxi, Ecuador, to find his son, Jefferson Quindil, 21.

Graciela Ramos, mother of Dairanis Tan, a 33‑year‑old Cuban, could not join the brigade, nor could the families of Hondurans Karla Hernández, 29, and Olvin Marin Maldonado, 61, who also disappeared on the same journey. So the seven detectives ask about them, too.

The families began filing missing persons reports — each on their own — in January 2025. They didn’t know one another, nor did they know the names of the people who had traveled with their children, because Mexican authorities dismissed each of their individual reports with ease. The Cuban mothers found one another through social‑media posts, and one phone call led to another.

They eventually reached the Foundation for Justice, the organization that accompanied them more than a year ago to file a complaint before the FGR. The federal agency declared itself not competent and sent the case file back to the Chiapas Attorney General’s Office, even though there were — and still are — signs of organized‑crime involvement.

The case was published in EL PAÍS in June 2025, and from that story, like a domino effect, the September and October disappearances were linked to it. Only a few months ago, Chiapas prosecutor Jorge Llaven acknowledged after a press conference that all the cases were “related” and that San José El Hueyate was home to “a network for smuggling undocumented migrants”: “As there must undoubtedly also be complicity from authorities.”

Two of the three disappearances already have U.N. Urgent Actions, which require the Mexican state to begin an immediate search. It was in that context that the 2026 Tejiendo Redes (Weaving Networks) Brigade was organized with the Regional Network of Migrant Families to bring the detectives to Mexico.

A crossroads

The town’s name is unusual. Even some locals get confused. San José El Hueyate belongs to the municipality of Mazatán; some call it the Barra de San José, and the owner of a restaurant insists people also call it La Encrucijada — The Crossroads. “Do you know what that means?” he asks. Then he explains that here, dozens of tiny islands, dirt paths, and waterways intersect and split apart, that a lot goes through here, that many people have passed through here. But he doesn’t recognize any of the photos of the missing. Another shop owner says bluntly that those who don’t turn up either drowned or were taken. She has a missing brother, just like another neighbor, just like a migration officer. People in town have never dared to hang the faces of the missing on these wooden walls. They are poor, afraid, and they have their reasons. On that, the detectives agree.

San José El Hueyate has been a drug‑trafficking corridor for decades; in the 1980s, small planes loaded with cocaine landed here, and for years, migrants have been hidden in safe houses because of the area’s isolation. No one is used to an operation like the one accompanying the seven detectives, and children stare wide‑eyed at the convoy made up of the National Guard, the Army, Municipal Police, State Police, the Migrant Prosecutor’s Office, the National Search Commission, the State Search Commission, the Executive Commission for Victim Assistance, Civil Protection, the Mazatán government, activists and a handful of journalists. It is an unusual deployment — at times promising, at others ineffective.

The sand is damp, and under the palm‑thatched shelter sit several dozen motorbikes and a handful of neighbors who had been calm until the entire brigade arrived. The families ask carefully, insist patiently. “If at any point you remember something, you can call this number — it’s all anonymous.” “Look, let me show you another photo.” “No, they didn’t disappear at night; it was 9 a.m., broad daylight — someone must have seen them.” “I can’t rest until I know where my son is.” “Have boat guides gone missing here?”

They receive timid answers, a few attentive eyes, and replies that reveal more than they say: “Why do you want to know that?”

“There’s a truth hidden in San José El Hueyate — everything we need to find our relatives is there,” says Óscar Hernández. “That’s what the prosecutor’s office needs to do.”

In 10 days, they have traveled through Mexico City, Tuxtla Gutiérrez, Tonalá, Paredón, Tapachula, Mazatán and San José El Hueyate; they have visited migrant detention centers, shelters, hospitals, prisons, churches, markets, government buildings; they have met with the National Migration Institute and the prosecutor’s office; they have held press conferences; they have given their samples to the Argentine Forensic Anthropology Team; they have left the border covered with the faces of Jorge, Elianis, Lorena, Meiling, Samei, Ricardo, Jefferson, Dairanis, Karla and Olvin; they have shown those faces to more than 1,000 inmates who filed past one by one under the sun to look at their photos; they have heard possible leads and many refusals; at times they wish they could go home and be far from here, and at times they don’t want to leave until they can do so with their families.

“As a son, it’s incredibly frustrating. What am I going to tell my parents when I get back?” Óscar Hernández asks sadly.

At the same time, they acknowledge the progress, the leads, a glimmer of hope once again.

“I think if we stayed here for a month, we could find them,” Alicia Santos muses aloud.

“What we want now is for our case file to be sent to the Attorney General’s Office so they can search the entire country,” says Isis Pérez.

They all hoped to return to their countries with something — with someone — but they know that this has been, after all, just the first attempt.

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The idea sounds like something out of a science fiction movie: thousands of satellites orbiting Earth, space-based sensors tracking missiles in real time, and weapons capable of destroying threats just seconds after launch. But behind the spectacular “Golden Dome” project promoted by President Donald Trump are serious doubts about its feasibility.

A new analysis by the Congressional Budget Office (CBO) has estimated that the system could cost up to $1.2 trillion over two decades — a figure nearly seven times higher than the $175 billion Trump initially promised. And even with that monumental expense, experts warn that the shield might not stop a massive attack from Russia or China.

The actual cost

Trump presented the “Golden Dome” as a revolutionary defense system capable of protecting the United States from advanced aerial threats, including ballistic, hypersonic, and cruise missiles. The project was launched via an executive order signed during the first week of his second term.

At the time, the president assured that the system would be fully operational before the end of his term in January 2029. He also stated that the total cost would be around $175 billion.

However, the new CBO report paints a much more costly picture of the project. The nonpartisan agency estimated that developing, deploying, and operating the system over 20 years could drive costs up to $1.2 trillion. Acquisition costs alone would exceed $1 trillion.

The CBO itself clarified that the estimate does not represent a definitive government design, as the Pentagon has not yet detailed exactly how the system will function or how many components it will include. The report notes that this is “one illustrative approach rather than an estimate of a specific Administration proposal.”

A space shield inspired by Israel

The “Golden Dome” concept is partly inspired by Israel’s “Iron Dome,” the well-known multi-layered system that intercepts rockets and short-range missiles launched from Gaza, Lebanon, or Iran.

However, while Israel protects a relatively small territory against regional threats, Trump’s project aims to cover the entire continental United States, as well as Alaska and Hawaii, against far more sophisticated weapons.

The proposed architecture includes ground-based and space-based capabilities to detect, track, and intercept missiles at various stages of flight. A significant portion of the cost would come precisely from that space-based component.

According to the CBO, about 70% of the acquisition cost would go toward space-based interceptors and a constellation of approximately 7,800 satellites. An orbital system needed to destroy just ten incoming ballistic missiles alone would cost nearly $720 billion.

Trump justified the plan by arguing that strategic threats have evolved dangerously over the past few decades. In his executive order, he stated: “Over the past 40 years, rather than lessening, the threat from next-generation strategic weapons has become more intense and complex.”

Doubts about its effectiveness

Beyond the cost, the report also raised doubts about the system’s true capabilities. The CBO concluded that the “Golden Dome” could effectively respond to a limited attack by countries with lesser capabilities, such as North Korea. But the picture changes when facing military powers comparable to the United States.

The analysis warns that the system “could be overwhelmed by a full-scale attack mounted by a peer or near-peer adversary,” referring to countries such as Russia or China. In other words, even with a multibillion-dollar investment, the shield could become overwhelmed by a massive missile launch.

That possibility fuels the skepticism that already existed among military experts and lawmakers regarding the technical feasibility of the project. Several officials have warned that current U.S. missile defense systems have failed to keep pace with new technologies developed by potential adversaries, especially in the field of hypersonic missiles.

There are also doubts about the timeline. Trump said he wanted to see the system operational before the end of his term, but experts consider it extremely difficult to build an infrastructure of that magnitude in less than four years.

The political debate and multimillion-dollar contracts

Despite criticism, the government has already begun allocating resources to the project. Congress previously approved approximately $24 billion for initiatives related to the “Golden Dome,” while the Pentagon requested an additional $17 billion in future budget allocations.

In addition, companies in the defense and aerospace sectors have already secured major contracts. SpaceX and Lockheed Martin received contracts worth up to $3.2 billion to develop prototypes of space interceptors.

General Michael Guetlein, the project’s director, recently defended the initiative before lawmakers and dismissed the most alarmist estimates. As he explained, many external estimates simply take the cost of previous systems and multiply it. “That is not what Golden Dome is doing,” the general stated. “We are laser-focused on affordability.”

However, even he acknowledged that the space component poses enormous financial risks. During a hearing last month, he warned that if the space interceptors cannot be produced at a reasonable cost, they will not go into production.

Meanwhile, Democratic critics argue that the program could turn into a massive windfall for military contractors. Senator Jeff Merkley, who requested the CBO report, called the bill “nothing more than a massive giveaway to defense contractors paid for entirely by working Americans.”

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A group of U.S. lawmakers has called on the Pentagon to immediately suspend joint military operations with Ecuadorian forces in the north of the country, targeting drug trafficking “terrorist organizations” active in the area. In a letter sent to Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth and seen by EL PAÍS, the legislators demand that the mission be halted pending an investigation into the incidents and ask for clarification of the legal basis for U.S. involvement, which has not been authorized by Congress.

The letter, spearheaded by Democratic representatives Chuy García, Greg Casar, and Sara Jacobs, is signed by around 20 lawmakers, mostly from the party’s progressive wing, including Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Ro Khanna. It is also backed by human rights organisations such as Amnesty International USA, the Centre for Economic and Policy Research (CEPR), and the Washington Office on Latin America (WOLA). It was made public at the start of a two-day visit to Washington by Ecuadorian President Daniel Noboa, who is due to meet Vice President J. D. Vance and OAS Secretary General Albert Ramdin, among others.

“We are deeply concerned by reports of serious human rights violations and the bombing of what appear to have been civilian facilities during joint U.S.-Ecuador military operations conducted in northern Ecuador in early March,” reads the letter, which gives the Pentagon 10 days, until May 22, to respond.

The lawmakers refer to a joint operation announced by U.S. Southern Command (SouthCom), which oversees U.S. forces in Latin America, on March 3 against “designated terrorist organizations in Ecuador.” Six days later, U.S. President Donald Trump informed Congress that U.S. forces had taken part on March 6 in military actions against “the facilities of narco-terrorists affiliated with a designated terrorist organization.” The administration has provided no further details, meaning that “the scope of U.S. military involvement in Ecuador remains unclear, both to Congress and the American public,” the lawmakers warn.

They also cite statements from senior Pentagon officials pointing to a more extensive U.S. role in the operation. Acting Assistant Secretary of Defense for Western Hemisphere Affairs Joseph Humire told the House Armed Services Committee that on March 3, the Pentagon supported, “at the request of Ecuador,” bilateral kinetic actions against cartels in the border region. “The joint effort, named ‘Operation Total Extermination,’ is the start of a military offensive by Ecuador against transnational criminal organizations with the support of the U.S.”

Meanwhile, SouthCom commander General Francis Donovan told the Senate Armed Services Committee on March 19 that “special operations forces, including both ground forces and air forces, could quickly plan with the Ecuadorians to ensure that any use of force fell within our requirements.” He added: “[I was] very impressed on how the Ecuadorians operated on both those operations… very professional planning. I took part in both, observing both.”

A report published in late March by The New York Times suggested that one of the targets may have been a cattle farm used for milk production, with no known links to drug trafficking or organized crime. The report cited witnesses who said that Ecuadorian military personnel attacked and questioned unarmed civilians, set fire to homes, and carried out acts of torture on March 3 at the site that was bombed three days later.

The operations took place in the border region between Ecuador and Colombia, described in the letter as “highly sensitive and volatile.” Military activity there risks fuelling cross-border tensions that could escalate into a broader armed confrontation, they warn. “Indeed, in mid-March, the discovery of an unexploded Ecuadorian bomb that was found on the Colombian side of the border caused a diplomatic crisis between the two countries,” the letter states.

Beyond these incidents, lawmakers express concern about closer ties between the U.S. military and the government of Daniel Noboa, a close ally of President Trump, whom they accuse of an “alarming authoritarian and anti-democratic drift.” They cite, among other developments, “the violent repression of Indigenous-led protests,” public threats against the Constitutional Court, and the freezing of civil society organizations’ bank accounts.

The letter says: “Ecuadorians have endured more than two years of a prolonged state of emergency, marked by the military’s domestic deployment to combat so-called ‘narco-terrorists.’ This militarized strategy has failed to reduce drug trafficking or violence,” argue the lawmakers. “Ecuador recorded its highest homicide rate on record last year,” they add — more than 9,200 deaths in total.

The letter concludes: “The United States cannot credibly claim to promote the rule of law while supporting or enabling abusive practices abroad. Nor can it afford to escalate military operations in a volatile border region without mandatory Congressional authorization, clear safeguards, accountability, and respect for human rights.”

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