This was mostly written on November 7 2025, 50 years later.
It was Friday, November 7, 1975. I was halfway through my first semester
at the University of Miami. I was headed home.
I did not drive at that time; I did not have a car. I would take
the bus; would take it right behind the Science Building. I took the Coral Gables bus,
I forget the route. The Coral Gables Buses always went to the Coral
Gables Bus Depot. All the buses took you there and from there you could
take whatever bus you needed to get to your destination.
I remember I was tired. It had been a long day. I began my day by attending Professor Hubinger’s class in General Chemistry. Later on while I was in graduate shcool, I became good friends with him. I was one of his son's Ph.D. advisors. I always had a hard time getting motivated to go to class so early in the morning. One time I told him this and he became sad. Made me feel bad. Very nice man.
I was now on a bus headed north on Coral Way. I read a headline from far away (someone else was reading the newspaper).
It said “Four shot in little Habana”. There was a small picture of a
person in a stretcher taken as if the person was in the ambulance and the
photographer was at the end of the ambulance taking the picture before they
closed the door. I did not think much about it. Probably would have
forgotten in time. I was finally getting to my bus stop at Coral Way and
28th road. Even though I lived on 12th ave, I had done some extensive
research and found that the shortest distance I had to walk (around ½ mile)
was if I stopped at that particular bus stop and not at the one on 12th ave. At that time I had the
time to think about those things. I finally arrived home. I was
surprised by what I saw.
Everyone was crying. At first I thought, “someone had died”. I figured it was Abuela Julia. She was 75 years old and her health was okay but I figured that was the most likely event. I was surprised when it was she who told me, “mataron a Robert”. (They killed Robert). I asked “Que?”, I could not believe it. I do not know who was en la sala (the living room). I did not know how to react basically. I remember thinking to myself: The Headline. The newspaper was within reach and I grabbed it. Abuela told me what happened but I do not remember it, I just could not pay attention. I tried to read the newspaper. Everyone was so nervous that it did not register. I did not say anything. I just went to the back yard and sat in the back of the house, the portion closest to the mango tree, and began thinking. I finished reading the article. I just wanted to be alone. I did not really know how to react. I kept thinking, why am I concerned about how to react? Does everyone think like this? In the movies when something like this happens, the person being told knows how to react. They essentially either become violent, sob uncontrollably, leave the house grab a gun and go out and shoot the guy who did this. It did not matter how they reacted. Just that they did. They at least knew how to react. I did not. I had never gone through anything like this. I honestly did not know how to. I just sat in the backyard and just thought. And thought about all the above choices.
I was back inside the house. We were all talking about it. It really helps to talk about it. Someone said, Turi does not know it yet. Someone else said why had we not told LaSalle High School. And, in typical mom fashion, she said, what would the purpose of that be, he was not going to be able to do anything anyway. Mom and Dad were making the arrangements. We will tell him now, when he arrived. He had to take bus number 18 from Mercy Hospital to our home on 12th ave. Carlos and I immediately volunteered. We drove from the house to Immaculata LaSalle High School and asked where Baby Moose was (that was his nickname). Someone told us he was in the locker room. Turi was surprised to see us. Turi's locker was actually mine in previous years. In fact it is the one I used in the previous year. Carlos and I told him why we were there, right there. Turi knew exactly how to react. To this day I think I should have done a better job of that.
I do not remember very much of that day after that. The
magnitude of the occurrence had not emotionally hit me, yet.
Earlier that day, while I was in school, Mom and Dad received a call. There had been a shooting at the Latin Street Academy for Boys, where Robert worked. Robert not only worked there but, he was one of three or four who started the school. He had origingally worked at the Street Academy for Boys in Liberty City. Robert and a couple of others thought this would be good also for Cuban or Hispanic students. They had obtained the funding frpm the Urban League. Four had been shot. All of them were taken to Mercy Hospital, except for Robert. He was taken to Jackson Memorial Hospital. It was more serious. Once they received the call, Mom and Dad immediately went there. All the rest of us were at school or work. We had no idea what was going on. I would just picture Mom and Dad at the Hospital, finding out where they should go, wandering the halls of JMH, asking questions. That, got to me. Finally they were able to figure out where he was. My mom or abuela, told me much later that someone was talking about a person in surgery, and, that it was bad. She did not realize it was Robert and was hoping it was not. They were told by someone that Robert had not made it. They tried everything they could but he had lost too much blood. I have no doubt they tried everything they could. Apparently one of the "students" brought a gun. Robert approached him, and he was shot. The guy kept shooting. Robert just fell to the ground. No one could help. I am not sure if he died then or later in the hospital. I know no one could help him.
Someone had to identify the body. By now Tio Lulo was there. So was Misora. Either Misora by herself or with Tio Lulo, identified the body. It is interesting how when Mom needed something, she always called on Misora. I know that Dad always called on his brother, Tio Lulo. Misora was also the lady who helped raise Robert. Misora said Robert looked as if he were sleeping. Mom relied on Misora until until she was elderly. When she needed something, she knew she could trust Misora. Dad just said Robert "era tan buen muchacho". (He was such a good boy). He also expressed that he hardly knew Robert. I know why he said that. In 1961 when Robert may have been 9, he had to go to the United States. Otherwise he could have been drafted into the Cuban Military. Dad could not spend that much time with him. For four years he did not see Robert. Four years before that, Robert was suffering from Perthes disease. Four years wearing a full body cast. I know they got very close during that time. When my dad arrived in the United States, he had to work multiple jobs. He could not really spend that much time with Robert, or us. I could see why he was saying that. I believe he missed his children a lot.
The three others who were shot survived. In time I met some of them. One was the principal of the school, another one was a drug and rehab counselor. They had minor injuries. The Latin Street Academy was a facility run by the Urban League of Greater Miami. It had been built for students having a difficult time. Many of the students were students with problems, such as ex convicts. Robert was shot by one of the students. It may have been the next day or sometime after that, when T. Willard Fair came by our house to provide condolences. I remember abuela's expression as he came to visit. He was dressed in extremely colorful garb, something that we would never see in a funeral, but he was paying his respects in the way he knew how. He was very kind.
All the funeral arrangements were made. I can only imagine mom and dad doing this. I think Lalo helped. The family tended to call him whenever something like this would happen. To this day if you go to the cemetery, the tombs are in Lalo’s name, Lazaro Iribe. Since he was killed on a Friday, it was a two day wake. It was held at Caballero on 8th street and 16th ave. I had been in that funeral home before when Abuelo Arturo had passed.
I do not remember too much about the wake itself. I remember not knowing how to act or what to do. I would at times feel guilty because I was not feel as sad as I would have expected. I remember we did not allow abuela Julia to go. She was in charge of answering the phone at home. At the time there were no cell phones. At least that is the excuse we used. We also did not think it would have been good for her to go. I still think his death affected her profoundly. He died on a Friday. Preparations would make sure he would not be buried until Monday. I remember being proud of all my brothers and sisters, as I still am, as I saw them in the halls of the funeral home. How together we were. That day our lives completely changed. I found myself being very protective of them.
Robert was a wonderful older brother. I learned so much from him. He taught me how to play chess, play guitar and how to be a good student. He was in the National Honor Society, Mu Alpha Theta, Key Club, Football, Track and Chess Club. Many years later after my mom passed, I discovered a box of memories belonging to my mom. In the box were letters from faculty members from LaSalle High School addressed to mom and dad. I do not even know where that box is nor do I know if I have the box although for that type of thing, I was usually nominated to keep for the family. I know I have it, I know not where. I will definitely look for it.
Halfway through the funeral, two guys from Replica magazine came by. I did not like this. One of them basically cleared everyone from around the casket, while the other one took pictures. I felt as if my mom and dad were tricked. I became upset about this and between myself and other brothers and cousins, we cleared them out. They published a very large picture of Robert. I still am very upset about this. I kind of wish I had been more forceful at the time. That is one of those times during my life that I felt I should have been more forceful.
Most of my friends went to the funeral. I appreciated that. However, I spent most of the time speaking to Robert's friends. We had always spent time together. It helps a lot to have friends at a time like that. They would exchange stories about him. I guess the wake serves a purpose. I was not overly sad during the wake. I was sad, but it was bearable. In a way we were celebrating his life. My whole family was there except for my little brother and sister. They may have gone but only for a short time. A few months after that, my sister developed Diabetes. I always blame that on the emotional toll she went through at this time. She is okay.
We went home very late that evening. I felt a sense of guilt about doing that but mom convinced us to leave. At least that is the excuse I used. The death had occurred on a Friday. I do not remember exactly when the wake began but I believe it was either Saturday night or early Sunday morning. I am not sure.
On Monday morning, it was the day of the burial. I was really apprehensive. I felt really sensitive towards everything. I noticed that all my cousins were wearing sunglasses. I did not realize why. I was not; did not own a pair. I was making nervous small talk with my brothers and sisters. I was actuall very nervous. We were mostly really quiet. I have no idea what we were talking about. Then we went to the graveside ceremony. I was okay. Until.... they began lowering the coffin.... I lost it. I realized then why everyone had sunglasses on. I wished I had sunglasses. I remember Teresa seeing me and making a dash towards me and just hugging me. She just hugged me. She may not even remember this. It was the best hug, ever. I appreciated her very much.
After that I went home. I do not remember much else except that my friends would all call to see how I was. I was sleeping. They had all gone to school. Frankly, I just did not want to talk to anyone. I was always very nice to them but I just did not want to talk. I have great friends.
I am surprised how much I remember from that day. I write this so I will not forget him.
I think it is important to write this. It still affects me. I do not want to forget him.
I miss you Robert.
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