We all have friendships that start due to proximity, continue through shared ideals and sometimes get lost due to divergent personal paths. Pedro Corzo and I met in the 4th grade at Meadow Park Elementary School in West Palm Beach, Florida. Pedro came from a strong family whom had migrated from Cuba to pursue the American Dream. His family worked hard to establish themselves within the growing agricultural community in western Palm Beach County, FL and were reaping the benefits of their hard work. The success eventually entailed owning their own small farming operation. Given my own ties to an immigrant heritage and parents who constantly reinforced the benefits of working hard, Pedro and I had a lot in common and we got along from the first time we met.
I always remember Pedro smiling and in a good mood. He and his older brother, Alfredo, were only separated by a year or two and were very close. Pedro’s mother and father were strict but no more so than my parents and they always made me feel at home. Pedro was a solid student and went on to be the starting center on our high school football team. Fitting for a teenage football player, Pedro drove a beautiful 1966 ( I am relying on a faulty memory ) red Ford Mustang that he cherished. Whenever I could, I would steal a ride home in that car just to see the expression on other people’s faces as it went by.
Pedro went on to get a college degree in Florida and this is where we started to lose touch. I went to the University of Virginia and would only see Pedro occasionally on overlapping college breaks over the years. As we graduated from college, careers and family obligations caused us to lose touch and I am the worse for that. I would see his parents as I visited mine, but I never stopped by to say hello, even briefly.
As I was reviewing some of the invitations to our most recent high school reunion, I saw Pedro’s name listed as having passed away. A lump in my throat soon grew to a knot in my stomach as I looked into the details behind Pedro’s death.
After college, Pedro went on to a successful career with Del Monte as a regional manager based in Arizona. Pedro married and was starting a family. During what was a routine task for someone with his role at Del Monte, Pedro was driving his Ford Explorer between farms, which sometimes involved being on remote roads. The details of what happened next are a bit hazy as they rely on the information that was pieced together by police.
Apparently, three individuals set about to commit a murder and reports say they were targeting someone of Latin descent. Rocks were rolled onto the road, impeding the path of Pedro’s Ford, so much so that he would have had to stop the truck and get out. Pedro, being an ex high school lineman, was not a small man and could defend himself, hell, I would have given him good odds against three others in that situation—if it weren’t for the firearms. They assassinated Pedro and buried him in a shallow grave not too far from where they forced his vehicle to stop. At the time of his murder, Pedro left behind his wife Shelly, a young daughter, Veronica and a son, Pedro, Jr. who was one month away from meeting his father for the first time.
The three men that committed this crime were captured in Montana, but were very close to being let go, according to The Arizona Republic,
“The arrests were made at 3:45 p.m. Thursday, about the same time Corzo’s widow, Shelly, 34, made and emotional plea for her husband’s killers to be brought to justice. Officer Toman Baukema of the Montana Highway Patrol spotted Harrison’s 1985 Chrysler New Yorker driving about 20 miles under the legal speed limit on Interstate 90. He noted that the occupants were young and that the car was loaded down. Baukema ran a database check on the license plates and learned the car was associated with two runaways from Missouri who were possibly armed, and he pulled it over, he told the Republic.
Harrison admitted having weapons and produced two rifles and a shotgun. But Montana authorities did not have any reason to think a crime had been committed. “We basically decided we weren’t going to do anything to them,” other than call their parents and secure the weapons, Baukema said. Baukema then spoke to a detective in Missouri who told him that the trio may have been planning some criminal activity in Arizona.”
As you can tell from the newspaper’s wording, two of the assailants were young, 15 and 16, while one was 22 years old. Three young punks, with no respect for life, would take the life away from an individual who was truly living the American Dream.
I do not get even a passing grade on keeping up with Pedro as we began our adult lives. It was not because we grew apart, I know, if he were alive today, we could sit down and talk as if no time had passed at all ( The subject matters probably wouldn’t be much different either). I am sorry for those lost times and for the fact that his son and daughter will not get to spend time with a man that I am proud to have had as a friend.
The anniversary of Pedro’s passing is a little under two months away and I think about him often. May God bless his family and, from an American with Gaelic heritage to an American with Cuban heritage:
Deep peace of the running wave to you.
Deep peace of the flowing air to you.
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you.
Deep peace of the shining stars to you.
Deep peace of the infinite peace to you.