• Originally published July 22, 2009 at midnight, updated July 25, 2009 at 5:30 p.m.

Struggling to put divorce and depression behind him, Leon wanted a new life, and he wanted his young son to join him. Even through the divorce, the two were inseparable. The father, nicknamed "Possum" because of his flat feet and heavy build, dreamed of ditching his taxi for work in the United States. The former seminary student sold his car to pay smugglers. His 5-year-old son, the youngest minor in the trailer, died half-naked and in his arms. First responders found the man dead, hunched over the boy.

Benitez and Jaramillo, cousins, traveled together. They planned to work in Tennessee. They were the last to be identified because the coyote, the smuggler, lied to their family by saying they were still alive.

The soccer trophies in Bravo's bedroom remind his parents that he was the most driven of their eight children. "He liked to work and improve himself," his father, Fructouoso Ramirez, said. Bravo earned solid grades, worked in the cantaloupe fields and grew dissatisfied with limited jobs. He moved to Memphis, Tenn. He died returning to Tennessee following a visit home for Christmas.

Gamez used money he earned in Florida to build a concrete-block home for his family in Mexico. He wanted to return to work to afford a roof and to repay debts. He often watched soccer games on dirt fields in his home village, but he rarely played. He traveled to the United States with his brother, Serafin Rivera Gamez. He was married to Cecilia Rivera. He had a 3-year-old son, Juan.

After working for two years in tomato fields in Florida, Gamez returned home for Christmas. "When he came home, he said he wasn't going to go anymore," said his widow, Maria del Carmen Rico, 32, breaking into tears. "I told him not to go, that we'd find a way to make it." Job scarcity forced him back to Florida. He traveled with Roberto Rivera Gamez, his 29-year-old brother, who also died.

Gonzales returned home at Christmastime from a year's work in Houston. He reunited with family, including his wife and two young children. "I want to live better so that my son can go to school," Gonzales, the youngest of six, told his older brother. He worked construction jobs in Houston, and saved to buy a truck, which he used to return home. When he left, he told family: "I have to go for my children and wife."

Guerrero, the third of five children, wanted to buy a tractor to earn more money working the land near his mountain village. He hoped to add a second floor to the cement-block home, where he was born and raised. He came to the United States to earn that money. "He had just begun to live," his mother, Delfina Gonzalez, said. His father, Gerardo Gonzalez, said, "But now, it's all over."

Gutierrez spent his last day at home going to church and stacking wood so his wife could cook for months. "Before he left, he told me that if anything happened to him along the way, that I should take care of our children and stay true to God," his wife, Zulma Gomez, said. The two met in church and were married for 10 years. They had two sons. Gutierrez hoped to earn money to build a home for his family.

Herrera grew up knowing his mother by her voice on the end of a long-distance phone call. Born at the height of a civil war, he was raised by his impoverished grandparents. When his father died, he sought to reunite with his mother, who lived illegally in New York City. His mother identified the once-quiet boy by his tattoos, new shoes and broken tooth.

Loredo lived with his parents and sisters in his hometown, Cardenas, where he was buried. The clean-shaven, black-haired budding carpenter died shirtless. He stood 5-feet-8-inches tall and weighed 161 pounds. He wore brown shoes, gray socks, blue jeans and a white metal necklace. He carried two phone cards, $22 and 500 pesos.

Mata spent days hacking at tall, rust-colored sorghum stalks. He listened to raucous, horn-driven banda music. He played soccer on a dusty field. Most of all, he spent time plotting ways to ensure his 1-year-old son would lead a less difficult life. "He said he was going to the United States because he wanted to make a better life for his boy," his wife, Alicia Perez, 33, said. "Here in Plan de Iguala, there is nothing."

Merino lived with his mother in Veracruz, where he was buried.

Morales loved soccer. He lived in Houston with his wife, Jeanette, a U.S. citizen, and 18-month-old daughter, Jazlynn Abigail. He couldn't afford to hire a lawyer to join his wife in legal citizenship, the woman said. Morales returned to Mexico to visit his mother. During the visit, he promised her to one day earn enough to build her a house. He died days later en route to his wife and child.

Perez lived in Houston for 20 years. Two of his seven children were born in the United States. Deported a week before the tragedy, Perez did what many deportees do: He turned around and came right back. "He wanted to be with his children," his brother, Adrian Salgado, said. Perez worked in restaurants. While he had three driving-while-intoxicated charges, Perez was not violent, relatives said.

For the longest time, Robles was happy with the odd jobs he worked in his local farm community, and the meager income he earned at the family store. He chose to stay put with his wife, three daughters and 10-month-old son. When factories closed, he sank into debt. "My husband didn't go for the pleasure of it," his wife, Laura Almanza, 34, said. "He went to pay off what he owed. People go because they have to."

Vargas shouldn't have been in the tractor-trailer. The man traveled regularly to the United States using a tourist visa, but he had recently lost his papers. The entrepreneur started a small clothing store with his wife, Jannelli, and he traveled to New York to earn money to invest in the business. Avoiding the two-year wait for new paperwork, he risked the trip north. He had two young children.

Zuniga's family remembers him as the quiet one. He didn't travel from his tiny village to holiday dances in neighboring towns. "He was always with me," Martina Hernandez, his diabetic mother, said. "He took good care of me and worried about me very much." Zuniga had three brothers, three sisters and three treasured cats: Pinto, Borrado and Prieta. To win the affection of a girl, he vowed to go north and earn money. "One of these days I'm going to get married and I will have to have money," he told his mother.

sPHOTOS FEATURED AT LEFT

All photos are contributed

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