delusional disorder
Luzdivina González, known at home as Ludi, is seventy-five years old. Ten years ago she vanished from Barcelona on May 13, 2013, dressed as she was that morning. She left her family worried, and she was running from something that weighed on her mind, a fear that grew louder by the day.
When the alarm sounded that same day, Ludi never returned. The family describes a tireless search that stretched from sea to mountains. José María, her brother, recalls walking miles every day for the first two and a half years without any sign of her. The search has continued for a decade, driven by a stubborn hope that kept him moving forward.
In the family album, Luzdivina appears in a sequence of photographs that capture a life shared with loved ones. The message remains clear—Ludi is missed and her disappearance remains unresolved.
José Maria asks aloud what happened, admitting that he does not possess the details. The truth surfaced only a few days after the case opened, a fact he attributes to his age. Ten years passed since he learned of the situation, and he still remembers the moment he learned she was missing. He has spent years investigating alongside the portal CASO ABIERTO, the event and investigation platform of Prensa Ibérica, never stopping the pursuit of answers.
delusional disorder
The investigation began with an absence and a lack of clues. Ludi disappeared, and the family faced a blank map with no clear direction. The two daughters filed a report with the Mossos d’Esquadra, noting that their mother had been on medication and was in need of treatment. She was last seen wearing black pants and a white T-shirt with orange flowers. She told people she was going for a walk, carrying only a few coins, leaving behind the medicine she needed.
From the beginning, the family observed a shift in Ludi’s behavior. Fear crept in, and a sense of suspicion grew. When the sister learned of the change, she contacted the others to warn that something dangerous might be happening. Ludi spoke of a fear that others would die, and she worried about what neighbors might think as she looked out the window. She became wary of unfamiliar faces and people not from her circle asking to visit.
The police diagnosed a delusional disorder and prescribed treatment. Yet the fear did not fade, and a difficult time followed. Ludi was at times hospitalized, and the family felt the walls closing in as the case drifted into questions without clear answers. The sense of urgency and risk did not register as it should have, and the family wonders how a situation so fragile could escalate into something so heartbreaking.
Montjuic and Plaza Catalunya
Desperation drove the family to cover more ground. Posters were printed and distributed, and they revisited places that might hold a clue. They recalled Ludi living with another sister in Plaza Cataluña when she was younger, and they retraced steps in the upper part of Barcelona where she had once worked as a domestic helper. They searched Montjuic, explored a cave, and even walked from Viladecans to Badalona, seeking any trace of her. The search was relentless, with no rest and no credible lead.
Visits to police stations yielded kindness but little information. Ludi was nowhere to be found, and she left no clear trail behind. The family kept moving, driven by the memory of her and the hope that she might still be out there.
“Your sister came here to eat and ask for a job”
Months after the disappearance, a phone call arrived. A young woman with limited Spanish spoke about a photograph and a possibility. A poster had been left in a mailbox at a soup kitchen, and a nun at the center suggested that Ludi had appeared there for lunch and inquired about work. The family rushed to the soup kitchen, where the nun shared a compassionate invitation to return in a few days if needed. For ten days, José María visited the center each afternoon, hopeful that Ludi would reappear. Yet she never did.
One afternoon the cleaning staff described a woman matching Ludi’s appearance, but as the days passed the description faded. The family clung to every possible lead, but the trail grew colder with each passing moment. If a sister looked like Ludi, the family was not sure, and the longing for confirmation remained.
“He was here half an hour ago”
The search intensified as new information emerged. A nun, a police officer, a neighbor—all seemed to offer pieces of the puzzle. A cleaner described a woman with the same hair color, a familiar curl, and a slight limp. Yet the person described by the cleaner vanished just as quickly as she had appeared, leaving the family with a sharpened sense that the truth was elusive.
After a period, more clues surfaced near the cathedral and an old folks’ center, but none provided a conclusive answer. Calls ceased, and the silence grew heavier. The Mossos stopped searching, but the family understood that the need to find Ludi did not disappear. They recognized the difficulty of searching without concrete clues and accepted the challenge of keeping hope alive.
José María remains a member of the Intersos association board, supporting other missing families. He now navigates the world differently, leaning on social networks and public awareness to keep the search active. He believes that citizen collaboration matters and feels a responsibility to approach strangers with empathy, hoping someone might recognize a familiar face when he encounters it on the street.
If Ludi ever walks the streets again, José María holds a steady gaze. He would ask for help, be alert to any sign, and continue the pursuit. He recalls a time when Ludi focused on her family, her home, and her quiet life. Those memories persist, and the family continues to wait for the moment when they can say they have found her, or that the search has reached its final resolution. He remains convinced that missing does not simply vanish; it lingers in the corners of memory and the edges of hope.
In the end, the family story is one of perseverance, love, and the fragile line between fear and faith. The decade-long search reflects the strength of a bond that refuses to be broken by time, even when the world around them seems to grow quieter with each passing day.