FUNDACIÓN VÍCTIMAS DEL TERRORISMO 94 - ENGLISH

S he was 15 when she realised all too soon that life can be shattered in an instant. That August night, the clock ticked by with a strange slowness and her father did not come home. Pilar still re- lives every minute of that day as if time had stood still. On 2 August 1975, Civil Guard officer Casimiro Sánchez García was killed and his colleague, Ignacio Cabezón, was wounded in a shooting. Both had just fin- ished their shift and were walking along Calle Juan José Bautista in Madrid when three young men approached and opened fire. Casimiro was shot eight times. He tried to take shelter in the doorway of a building, but died on the spot. He was 44 years old, married and the father of four children. There was never an official statement regarding the perpetrators, but investigators concluded that the crime bore the hallmarks of GRAPO. That day remains etched in Pilar’s mem- ory with a clarity that has not faded with the passing of time. It was a Saturday; her father was working at the dog track on Vía Carpetana, and she and her mother went to see him, accompanied by an uncle—her father’s brother—who had travelled from Cáceres. They went for a walk, laughed and had a photograph taken that would be their last. “He told us: ‘Start preparing dinner, I’ll be straight back,’” she recalls. But he never arrived. At ten o’clock that night, anxiety grew and the initial reports of an accident gave way to confirmation that it had been an attack. Pilar and her moth- er arrived at the Gómez Ulla Central Defence Hospital without fully under- standing what was happening, and as soon as they walked through the door, they were met with the news: her fa- ther had died. “I remember everything, right down to the exact times,” she says, as if every detail remains intact. From that moment on, family life changed forever. Casimiro’s death not only left a void that could never be filled, but completely disrupted the lives of everyone in the family. “We lived in barracks and had to leave. We were left homeless,” she says. “My mother suffered a devastating blow from which she never fully recovered,” Pilar recounts. The children reacted as best they could: the eldest quit his job and applied to join the Civil Guard Academy; his oth- er brother followed suit a year later, whilst Pilar and her sister continued with their studies. “It was a complete turnaround in every sense,” she says. Beyond the uniform, Pilar remembers a father devoted to his family, always willing to spend time with them and DAUGHTER OF CASIMIRO SÁNCHEZ GARCÍA, CIVIL GUARD AND FIRST FATAL VICTIM OF GRAPO PILAR SÁNCHEZ BLÁZQUEZ ` Text: Ana García “Whatever happens, I will keep fighting to ensure that the memory of my father is never forgotten” concerned about their education and future. He wanted his children to have opportunities he never had and left his hometown, Herrero de Suso, in Ávila, to give them a better life. “For me, he was the best. He was my role model,” she admits.