Sister Alicia Fernández has long served as a steady beacon for Erika Yunga’s family, offering spiritual guidance and practical support in Vallobín after the young girl’s death on a Tuesday. When Erika’s parents first reached Spain, they found shelter at the doorstep of María Inmaculada’s sisters, who welcomed them into a small, secure apartment and helped them look for work. “They’re aligned and they’re ahead,” witnesses say. It was a bond that even shaped Alba Alvarado’s path; years ago she began working as a receptionist at a women’s shelter, a role she has fulfilled with warmth and dedication for more than a decade. “She always greets people with a smile,” Fernández recalls, noting that she herself has carried out social work at the center and supported vulnerable women for years. Erika was born into this atmosphere of care, and her sister became her godmother at baptism, a role she held until Erika’s last day: “It was her birthday in March. I gave her a book and a little angel.”
Sheltered by the center since childhood, Erika participated in nearly every activity offered there. She and her relatives also lent a hand behind the scenes, taking on secretarial tasks and offering a message of peace and hope to other immigrants who needed a caring shoulder to lean on. “They are very calm, hardworking and kind people,” Fernández describes. The memory is shadowed by horror, and she adds with disbelief: “I don’t understand how it could happen. It’s not a bad thing.”
Erika’s family learned the news while she was with her parents, who were in the reception area when a call informed them something had happened. They rushed to the address themselves, only to confront the fear that had now become a harsh reality. The community has since gathered to mourn the loss and pay tribute, with a makeshift space established in San Salvador for Erika’s burial. The grief has been shared among many who knew her for her quiet strength and her willingness to help others in need. It is a reminder of the fragile line between safety and violence that can touch any neighborhood. The family makes clear that they do not know the person believed to be the perpetrator, a neighbor in the same building: “They didn’t know each other. Erika was a hardworking girl, went to school, and maintained friendships with peers.”
Throughout this tragedy, the center remains a place of refuge and continuity for those who depend on it. The community reflects on Erika’s life, a young person who offered kindness and resilience in every act, and on the way her family and friends embodied the spirit of support that can sustain people through dark times. The testimony of those who worked beside Erika and watched her grow speaks to a life shaped by compassion, responsibility, and an unwavering sense of belonging within a close, interconnected circle of neighbors and helpers. The story continues to unfold as the investigation proceeds and the community writes new lines into a difficult chapter.