Alba remembers a moment that still hurts. They were very young when he disappeared. In 2013, Alba and her sister Clara faced the worst news: their mother was not there. They felt her absence deeply. Yet there were things they did not understand then, and time would reveal new questions rather than clear answers. On that day, when they waited at the school gate for their mother to pick them up, she never arrived.
The woman who vanished was Cristina García, who disappeared on November 4, 2013 in Gandía, Valencia. The investigation began late, without forced raids, only interrogations. Many theories circulated—one possibility suggested that a group of suspicious people vanished in the region on that same day, hinting at accident or voluntary departure. Despite multiple hypotheses, progress remained elusive.
“Overnight the police stopped reporting to us,” says the eldest daughter. The search has worn them down. Alba voices a hard truth: they have learned to live with it. No clue, no movement, no sign that Cristina would return. “A mother is always needed, but we moved forward with the love of family, we had to survive.”
Did they imitate you?
Ten years later, much information was erased from the record by legal paperwork. “Because of my mother’s and grandfather’s inheritance, we had to declare my mother dead,” Alba explains to OPEN CASE. “Ten years have passed, the case is closed.” The moment was interrupted when a judge appeared in court: “They told us it couldn’t be done because they found a bank account in my mother’s name. It was opened by someone in 2015 and received grant money until April of this year.” Cristina’s family was stunned. “We found out in 2023,” Alba laments. No one had mentioned that the account had been opened eight years earlier.
“This is what eats people up the most,” pain, despair and uncertainty return to the house. “It could be a bank error, it could be identity theft, it could be someone impersonating Cristina,” reflects Alba. As she reached adulthood, the family’s mind never stopped. Years later, they returned to dealing with the situation in their own way: “Everything was taken from us. Could we have done something if they had told us eight years ago? This is starting over again.”
Missing
November 4, 2013: Cristina goes to her mother-in-law’s house. Alba and Clara spent the afternoon there. After dinner, Cristina seems not to be at her best. It was agreed that the girls would stay over and Cristina would pick them up from school the next day. “We were waiting for my mother, but she didn’t come.”
Warning about Cristina García’s disappearance was issued in 2013. OPEN STATE
The search began quietly at first. “We hesitated to complain, waiting to see if she would return or walk away. There was a small argument between my mother and my grandmother. My mom asked us to go home with her…,” Alba recalls. “I asked, ‘Hey, did you talk to Cristina?’ No answer. The alarm was raised by aunts who ultimately reported to the police.”
A few Romanians and a Bulgarian
Cristina García was 34 years old and had recently left Dulcesol, the company she had worked for. She had been dealing with depression after the death of her father and was trying to be with her daughters. On the last sighting, she appeared to be arguing with her mother-in-law, and then she agreed to pick up the children from school, saying she would leave a little angry. She did not return. The investigation ran two routes: Cristina could have left on her own, or something could have separated her from the family. Eyewitnesses noted that on the day of disappearance a table at a bar was occupied by a group described as Romanians and a Bulgarian, though none admitted involvement.
The case included warnings, photo spreads, media attention and many testimonies. Few people attended and none helped the police reconstruct possibilities. Inconsistent statements created holes in the timeline. It became clear that the investigation could not be effectively traced, and at times it felt as if the case had been shelved away in a drawer.
After 10 years: grant
Alba and Clara grew up with the quiet weight of a mystery that never answered. Ten years without clues marks a long silence. This summer changed things. The family moved into a new apartment with help from grandparents, and Alba and her sister began sorting through paperwork and financial matters. They learned they could declare Cristina dead to resolve some legal and practical matters, but a judge stopped them when they reached for that step, noting the discovery of a bank account in Cristina’s name that had granted money through the years. The account’s existence meant potential ongoing assistance, complicating the declaration.
Shock spread through the family. “Was it a mistake? Was someone impersonating Cristina and using her identity? Could someone have done something to her or to us?” Questions piled up. The sense of closure dissolved as new information appeared. “An account was opened eight years ago. Was it 2015? Why not tell us earlier? If we had known, perhaps we would have found more,” they wondered. The doubts that had barely cooled resurfaced anew.
Some family photos from Cristina’s life surfaced in the wake of these revelations. The images reminded them of a person full of warmth and life who is no longer present. Cristina, described as someone with long straight black hair and a cheerful spirit, was dearly loved. The search persisted in the family’s memory; the absence remained a daily ache. The question of what happened to her hung over them—whether she was there at moments, whether anything could have prevented what happened, whether anyone could have warned them sooner. The reality is that the investigation felt stalled, and the family felt left with a drawer full of unanswered questions.