On the afternoon of July 10, Lalo Castillo, a craggy-faced and sturdy 76-year-old, arrived at the northeast corner of Robb Elementary School in southwest Uvalde, where neighbors and acquaintances began assembling for the largest political protest his hometown had seen in 50 years. Long ago, he’d studied reading and math in Robb’s classrooms, his childhood home just a quarter-mile away; almost as long ago, he’d helped lead a student uprising here that reshaped his city. Now, out front of the 67-year-old school—a cluster of old low-slung brick buildings plus a newer addition, nestled in a neighborhood of metal-roofed casitas and pothole-ridden roads—he watched the crowd swell past 500.
“I was glad to see young people, children, older people, white people, all kinds of folks that are joining,” Castillo said. “It brought back a lot of memories—particularly beginning at Robb.”
Around the school’s welcome sign that day, a second gathering sprawled: a makeshift memorial overflowing with weathered teddy bears, bright flowers, handwritten letters, and white crosses. Affixed to a nearby side wall, just visible over yellow police tape and a temporary fence with black privacy mesh, a banner still blared the school slogan: “Together We Rise.” The windows of the newer building were all gone, with plywood now blocking from view the place where all the killing happened.
