I have gone back and forth about how to start this story...do I give historical facts? Do I dive right into what I was shown? I guess I will just begin...this is going to be a long a** story. Just to be honest and forewarn you.
Some months ago, I was in talks with someone about creating an online show. In these talks, I was told about the story of Juan Soldado in Tijuana, Mexico. Juan is a soldier who was accused of brutally murdering and raping an 8 year old girl in 1938. He was not only accused, he was convicted. But that is not the end of the story...not by a long shot. Two days after being told about Juan Soldado, I was approached by a production company out of New York. They were interested in pitching a new show to A&E...and they were interested in me being the medium for this show. What kind of show, you may be wondering? Well...it happened to be a show about people accused and convicted now on Death Row.
To me, the timing of those two things was no accident. You see, many believe Juan Soldado was falsely accused. So much so that he has been made into a Saint. He is prayed to...he is given offerings...he has thousands of devotees over the years. Not only does he have those, he has thousands of stories of ways in which he answered prayers and created miracles.
You can imagine how ready I was to connect with this spirit and to see in truth.... what really happened. Did he do it? Is a child rapist and murderer being given false innocence...false worship...false belief? Is there something truly supernatural happening here? Because by all accounts, there have been some wild stories about what has gone on at his grave. From blood seeping through ground...to disembodied cries from his grave. Add that to people claiming that they were healed of major illnesses...that they could walk again...that money came...that missing loved ones came home. Miracle after miracle.
Fast forward a few months and I am on my way to Mexico...trip booked...people aligned....ready to find out the truth.
Now, I usually wait to connect with a spirit until I am there at the location and ready. However, in this case...I called Juan forward about a week before I left....to see if I could connect with him. If he was willing to connect with me. He was. That night as I drifted off to sleep, he showed me many things...which I will share further in this story.
Days before my scheduled trip to Tijuana I had my radar/spirit app on and on my life, I asked Juan Soldado to speak so that I could have physical evidence that he came through. I asked him to make it be crystal clear. He did not disappoint me...and I get humbled every single time I experience something like this. Here is what he came through with-
I scheduled one quick personal stop before Tijuana. Well, actually a 6 day personal stop. Mexico City. You see, since I was around 11 years old, I have been obsessed with Mexico City. At least, getting there. Not only there, but to Teotihuacan. Particularly, The Sun Pyramid. When I was 11 years old, I saw a photo and every ounce of my little being was drawn to it. I made my father take me to the travel agent on many occasions so I could get brochures. I would cut out the pictures and paste them on poster board. I just knew I was meant to go. And boy did I try over the years...each time, it fell through. So if I was going to Tijuana, I was surely going to Mexico City first.
I scheduled a private tour guide, who ended up being the most magical and incredible for my trip to the ruins. About 3 days before I left for Mexico, I had a dream. I woke up and later told a friend about it. I knew I was in another country. I saw in great detail the landscape, which was very particular. I saw strange animals and jaguars and these huge elephants that were way off in the distance, but looked way bigger than any elephant I have seen. I saw an Indigenous man...playing a piano in a cemetery. So when my tour guide, Carlos, turned down the road towards the ruins, I had the most amazing deja vu I have ever experienced. There it was. The landscape. The stone I saw. Exact. Each side of the road. I began to tell the tour guide of my dream and he affirmed for me that jaguars were there at a time...and that mammoth bones had been found there. He was a very gifted man himself. He knew what this meant for me. He had chosen to pick me up at 6 am...and I was able to see the sun rise above the Pyramid of the Sun as we waited to be let in. When they let us pass, we were the only people there to walk the Avenue of the Dead and to climb the Pyramid of the Sun.
Pyramid of the Moon from the top of the Pyramid of the Sun.
I am telling you this story because it is the beginning of my journey to Juan Soldado and what occurred there. You see, at the top of the Sun Pyramid, I asked for some time alone. I sat in meditation and immediately felt a ...what I could only describe as a God...an Indigenous one...come forward to me. He was male in energy and he asked me to lay something down. Something of my heart and soul. Something representative of attachment to beliefs I have held my whole life and wounds from past life. I knew it was time and I knew I had to, as excruciating as it felt in my heart. It was my heart that the sacrifice was to come from. So I did it. Through tears and intensity and pain...but with devotion. To say it was intense is a HUGE understatement. Carlos and I climbed down and as we walked the Avenue of the Dead toward the Moon Pyramid, Carlos said to me, " You know, you were not ready before now to come here. Something in you was not where it needed to be. You are ready now and that is why you are here and were given permission to come." His words gave me chills, because I knew that...to the bones. I knew this was some kind of pilgrimage...some kind of initiation...something huge.
I left Mexico city for Tijuana excited and hopeful. Even though I was still feeling the intensity... that lasted the rest of my time in Mexico City. I also had a deep healing session with a healer there...and it was the most energetic movement in me that I have had in one time...in my lifetime. Still, I had hope. I have always been able to keep the flame of hope alive in my heart, even through the toughest of times in childhood and beyond. So this intensity I was feeling...and also, foreknowing of more to come was not enough to cause my hope to lessen.
I was excited to meet my person who would take me at first to the shrine of Juan Soldado and also around Tijuana to get acquainted. Matt Suerez is his name. I walked down to the coffee shop to get an Americano and to meet him. He came in and at first I didn't know what to think of him. Which is saying a lot for me. I read people instantly....he, however, was difficult at first. He looked half asleep and was not very energetic. I looked at first and was like, "Is this a good guy? A partier? A bad guy?" After a couple of minutes of talking and looking him in the eye I got my answer. He was a good guy. He was a guy who said it like he felt it. Didn't mince words and didn't put on faces. I liked him already!
We left to catch an Uber to the cemetery where not only Juan Soldado is said to be buried, but also where he is said to have been executed.
To give you the Cliffnotes version of what happened to Juan Soldado... when Olga, the 8 year old girl, went missing...some people began searching for her. It took a day, but a woman found her in an old shed...abandoned garage. She was brutally murdered. She was raped, post-mortem. There was a bloody boot print by her body and what they claimed to be a handprint in the meat that was the reason she had walked down to the store that day... to pick up meat for her mother. Now, someone claimed to see a soldier smoking near that building around the time she was missing. How they were led to Juan Soldado is not documented, but he was brought in for questioning. He admitted he was smoking around there. While being questioned, a massive mob was forming outside of the old fort where he was being questioned. Juan did not get a trial. He confessed under what anyone would describe as duress...even if he wasn't innocent. To make a very long story short, he was put in the back of truck...where his fellow soldiers drove him to Cemetery 1...and executed him.
Matt and I were going to where it all happened. Matt is a skeptic...but at the same time, he is willing to experience and he is actually sensitive himself. Although, I am not sure he would admit that. He is a good reader of situation and people...he has ability to pick up things. He has gifts. I have never told him this...so when he reads this....it will be the first time. Matt, you are gifted, in your own right. There.
I forgot to mention that the day we set out to do this, it was pouring down rain. So when we arrived at the cemetery, it was flooding. It was muddy. It was miserable. It was eerie. Matt and I got out of the Uber and walked up to the caretaker...in which I bought a candle...and Matt asked him in Spanish where Juan Soldado's shrine was located. The man pointed and said a few words and we began our walk. Matt is an incredibly talented photographer and took some photos-
As we walked down the gravel path, I recognized it from a picture I saw of a woman whose prayers were answered....and so she crawled down that same gravel road on her knees to the shrine of Juan Soldado to show gratitude. I was glad I was on my feet. Matt and I made small talk and I told him I would need a few minutes alone to do my thing. He was okay with that and I walked ahead of him....as he snapped shots of the shrine....and of me inside of it....lighting the candle. But when it came time for me to talk to Juan, I asked Matt for a few moments. He walked away and I instantly felt the spirit of Juan Soldado. In certain feelings, he expressed to me that this was not the place to get into his story...and I agreed. We would do that later. So I prayed. I lit a candle and I prayed. For what I was asked to lay down at the top of the Sun Pyramid in Mexico City. I prayed for a miracle. I prayed for healing. I prayed for the fearful blocks to be removed that kept the patterns and the beliefs that were not based in love...that were in the way....of heart. When I was complete, I said thank you and left.
Matt and I continued our day. He didn't ask any questions about what I had done in there. Or what I thought. We went for tacos. And a beer. And let the conversation lighten up. We talked about life and writing and Tijuana and food. We decided to walk from there to the next places. One of which, I shamefully asked to be a place where I could get a good margarita. I had not had one since being in Mexico. Matt is a genius of knowing where to take and what is around and the history. I enjoyed every story, every fact. So when he took me into the most depressing and no light bar I have ever been in, I had to trust him.
We sat down at the end of the bar. There was one other man at the bar. One female bartender. A jukebox. The bartender didn't speak English, so Matt ordered me a margarita....at the same time slamming the giant jukebox list in front of me. Jazz! They had a ton of jazz. Okay...maybe I could be at this bar for a bit. I explained to him that it was a tough one and he asked me what I was feeling. I said very depressed. It has a lot of depression. He went on to let me know the hotel above it was known as the suicide hotel. Well, that made perfect sense to me. He calmed my energy by telling me that the bartender really did make one of the best margaritas. She came over and put mine in front of me and when I looked in her eyes, I saw a spirit come forward. Her grandmother. A Bruja....witch. I turned to Matt and told him, " She has gifts. She has a grandmother with her who was a powerful witch." He immediately tells the bartender in Spanish. She has a shocked look on her face. I can read, no matter what language...so I told him, "She did not do black magic. She was healer." Matt tells her this too...in which she nods her head yes and confirms that is so. I tell Matt, " It is her Grandmother from her mother's side"....and right when I am telling him this...she is down at the end of the bar telling him in Spanish is was her mother's mother.
Needless to say, I freaked her out a bit... but at the same time, I think Matt was interested in the fact that I knew that.
We left there and went to a couple places, ending up at a bar that specialized in Mezcal. I ordered a very lightweight version of a drink, while Matt ordered a strong one...where they smoked wood and then trapped the smoke in the glass for a few seconds...before pouring the Mezcal in the glass. Minutes before, I told Matt I was done drinking for the day. I had a beer...a margarita...good food...and so I ordered the light drink to end on. At that moment...an epiphany...an answer came ...in a way that was undeniable. An answer to what I was asked to sacrifice in Mexico City. To what I lit a candle for and petitioned Juan Soldado for. A very stark, shocking, black and white, final answer came to me. And if you can imagine a movie scene in slow motion....where a man is talking to someone and gets a right hook out of nowhere....that spins him around....and the camera captures his eyes as he begins to fall to the ground in slow motion...somehow capturing the moment of surprise in those eyes...before it was lights out. That was me.
Matt could feel it too. He knew something had just changed on a dime. If you could take a needle and put a hole in a float and watch it deflate, that would be the equivalent to my energy and my spirit at that moment. I explained to him and he gently switched drinks with me. I now had the strong Mezcal in my hand....as I heard Matt's dry wit come out....as he said "Fucking Juan Soldado."
Yep. Juan had answered me no more than three hours after I had asked. The hammer came down. Matt was so kind...and understanding. And a good listener. He was willing to keep going with me, but I needed to process. So he put me in an Uber...and I remember looking up at him...standing on the other side of the window...and seeing the compassion in his eyes.
For the first time in all my life, I felt the pilot light of hope extinguish in my chest. It was the first time I have ever been without the warmth of hope. Picture one of those bobble dolls that when you hit them, they fall back and come right back up. That has always been me. Always. That has always been hope to me.
So what happened to me after that? Did Juan Soldado do it? Is he a child rapist and murderer? Did I find a match to light my pilot light of hope again?
To be continued....