The Dead Have No Names

In Sisterhood, there is a scene where a young boy is put in the back of a pickup truck with the older male workers and sent off to begin his life of slavery. Kevin, the hero of the story, can’t watch quietly. He drives out of town, finds a secluded spot, and screams out his frustration at being unable to save that child.

In a twist where life imitates fiction imitating life, I came across this Time magazine article.

The article tells the story of a horrific pickup truck accident where 15 people died. 7 others were left in critical condition. A girl about 8 years old was among the victims. The passengers of this truck had no identification. The overloaded vehicle was one of many slave-transports passing through that area of Texas.

The coronor’s office is struggling to identify the bodies, based on missing persons calls coming in from all over the world. Families who have lost track with their loved ones and believe they may have fallen victim to trafficking are searching desperately for information, struggling to find some clue. To the traffickers, they’ve lost an easily replaced cargo. To the families, they’ve lost loved ones … kidnap victims, victims who were lured by promises of good paying jobs, people desperate to provide for their families. Dead. Many of them may never be identified.

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