The following is a transcript of remarks by Martha Karolina Rojas Alvarez on July 16, 2026. She was joined by her sister-in-law Daniela Duran Guerrero. The translator was Keyko Torres. Please find attached photos as provided by the family. These are her remarks translated in English. The original Spanish is also included below.
He was a responsible man, a hard worker devoted to his family. He always dreamed big, and he had so many dreams left to fulfill.
He was always happy—and his joy was contagious. He loved to work; he couldn’t stand sitting still.
From the moment we met, we never separated again.
We were always one.
He was always watching over me so that I never lacked anything; he did everything to see me happy. He always said I was his life, and that he dreamed of a whole lifetime with me—he always told me, “Until we’re little old people.”
He was a man of the smallest thoughtful gestures, devoted to our love.
He always made me feel like a queen. I never wanted for anything; he gave me more than I ever dreamed of. I will never have the words to express what a marvelous, loving man God gave me.
We shared so many moments, so many adventures, but the dream he held closest was becoming a dad. From the moment he learned he would have a little princess, everything in him changed. He always said that little girl would never lack for anything—and that’s how it was. From the moment he held her in his arms and held her tiny hand, he never let go of her.
He always worked so that his “Gordita,” as he called her, would never go without.
He wanted to be there for every step his Gordita took.
She would always say, “Papi, I want nuggets and fries,” and he always gave her whatever she wanted—he never let his Gordita go without her little cravings.
They went to the park together every afternoon, and my little girl would come home happy, telling me everything Papá had given her.
I remember he would always look at her and say, “She’s getting so big and beautiful,” and the tears would come to his eyes.
He lived for her. Everything he did, he did in the name of his Gorda.
He wanted to be a present father—he never wanted his daughter to think Papá wasn’t there, or that he was too busy.
Every morning my daughter would wake up and call out to Papá to tell him she was awake and had slept well.
Every day she waited for Papá to have lunch and play with him for a while. And every night, Papá would come brush her teeth and hold her while she fell asleep.
A few months ago, we were talking about what she would be like when she was older, and how hard it would hit him when she went to school for the first time.
The three of us dreamed of so many things in our future. Days before, he bought his Gordita so many things—clothes, toys—and he loved watching how happy she was in them.
The day before, he took her to the park and the two of them had such a happy time.
That Monday afternoon was supposed to be her day with Papá. But he never came home. And now my daughter asks for Papá, and I don’t have the strength to tell her that Papá isn’t coming, that she can’t hug him anymore or tell him, “Papi, I love you.” Every night she asks for him. She always slept next to him, and now she can’t. All I have left are the photos, and a blanket with the three of us on it that he gave her a few weeks before.
My soul is broken. He was everything to me; he never let me worry about anything.
I feel so unprotected. I wish I could run into his arms and hear him say: “It’s okay, mi Flaca, I’m right here.” I love you, my love.
You will always be the love of my life, until my heart stops beating.
Watch over me. Help me carry all of this.
Help me care for and protect our daughter.
Remarks in Spanish
Declaraciones de Martha Karolina Rojas Alvarez, pareja de Johan Sebastián Durán Guerrero
[Español]
Era un hombre juicioso, trabajador entregado a su familia. Soñaba siempre en grande y tenía muchos sueños por cumplir.
Siempre estaba feliz, él contagiaba a los demás con su alegría, le gustaba trabajar, no le gustaba estarce quieto.
Desde el momento en que nos conocimos, nunca más nos separamos.
Siempre fuimos uno solo.
Siempre estaba pendiente de mí, que nada me faltara, hacía todo por verme feliz. Siempre decía que yo era su vida y que soñaba toda una vida conmigo; siempre me decía “hasta viejitos.”
Fue un hombre muy detallista, entregado a nuestro amor.
Siempre me hizo sentir como una reina, nunca me hizo falta nada, me brindó más de lo que yo soñaba. Jamás tendré palabras para expresar el hombre tan maravilloso y amoroso que Dios me dio. Compartimos muchos momentos, muchas aventuras, pero la que más soñaba era ser papá.
Desde el momento en que supo que tendría una princesa, todo en él cambió. Siempre decía que a esa niña nada le faltaría nada, y así fue; desde el momento en que la tuvo en sus brazos y sostuvo su pequeña mano, nunca más la soltó.
Siempre trabajó para que su Gordita, como le decía, nunca le faltara nada.
Siempre quería estar en cada paso que daba su Gordita.
Siempre le decía: “Papi, quiero Nuggets con papas,” y él siempre la complacía en todo, nunca dejaba que su Gordita se quedara con antojos.
Salían juntos todas las tardes al parque, llegaba mi niña feliz a contarme todo lo que papá le dio.
Recuerdo que siempre la miraba y decía: “Está muy grande y hermosa,” y se le salían las lágrimas.
Él vivía por ella. Todo lo que él hacía era en nombre de su Gorda.
Quería ser un padre presente, que su hija nunca pensara que papá no estaba, o que estaba muy ocupado.
Cada mañana mi hija despertaba y llamaba a papá a decirle que ya había despertado y que durmió rico.
Todos los días esperaba a papá para almorzar y jugar un rato con él. Luego, cada noche papá llegaba a cepillarle los dientes y abrazarla para dormir.
Unos meses antes hablábamos de cómo sería de grande y que le daría muy duro cuando esté en el colegio por primera vez.
Soñamos tantas cosas los tres en nuestro futuro. Días antes le compró muchas cosas a su Gordita: ropa, juguetes, y amaba ver cómo se colocaba feliz.
Un día antes la llevó al parque y pasaron muy felices los dos.
Se suponía que ese lunes en la tarde sería día de estar con papá, pero nunca llegó. Y ahora mi hija pregunta por papá y no tengo las fuerzas para decirle que papá no vendrá, que ya no lo podrá abrazar ni decirle: “Papi, te amo.” Cada noche pregunta por él. Siempre dormía junto a él y ahora no lo puede hacer. Solo me quedan las fotos y una cobija de los tres que le había regalado unas semanas antes.
Tengo el alma rota. Él era todo para mí, nunca dejaba que me preocupara por nada.
Me siento tan desprotegida. Quisiera salir corriendo a los brazos de él y me dijera: “Tranquila, mi flaca, acá estoy.” Te amo, mi amor.
Siempre serás el amor de mi vida hasta que mi corazón deje de latir.
Cuídame, ayúdame a sobrellevar todo.
Ayúdame a cuidar y proteger a nuestra hija.