It’s been nearly half a century since Alberto vanished, a mystery that still weighs on Lanzarote. The case of Alberto Pérez Elvira, who disappeared on July 2, 1973, remains a haunting thread in the island’s memory. Belén Elvira keeps his memory alive, sharing a family ache that spans decades. The mezzo-soprano who admires Plácido Domingo speaks softly about the man she never stopped hoping to find. He moved audiences then with Magdalena’s aria, and his sister holds that image close as she describes the search that gripped the island on live television.
“That performance was the hardest I have known”, a loved one recalls. “I have sung in the Verona Arena and at London’s Wigmore Hall, yet on that night families wore their hearts on their sleeves as posters and tears filled the room.” The talent show moment did not crown a winner, but it did reveal a drama that stretched across the nation. Families of missing relatives watched with hope, a bystander audience accompanied by observers who understood the ache firsthand. “For me, my brother was a hero, a face that everyone is looking for, a presence my mother hoped to see again on stage. Could he still be alive?”
OPEN STATUS
fifty years ago
On July 2, 1973, Alberto Pérez Elvira left school in San Bartolomé, a small town in Lanzarote. He rode his blue bicycle as usual. “Our family ran a restaurant called El Cazador, and we closed the place at seven thirty to head home”, Belén recalls, noting she was only an infant when her brother disappeared. The family routine is vivid in memory, from school to the family table to the quiet of home after the day’s work.
The mother, Maria, did not go to the bar that day. “If he had seemed weaker, I might have stayed with him in the afternoon”, Belén explains. At thirteen, Alberto was the eldest of five. There was always work to be done: changes to be made, tasks to complete, and a household with responsibilities that pulled him away from simple play.
“At two in the morning, they found his blue bicycle with a flat tire, nine kilometers away.” The sister’s words cut through the memory. The afternoon faded, and Alberto did not return. By eight in the evening, the family still searched. The father, stunned, asked a neighbor to check on Alberto; the central square and nearby streets were scanned. “Albertito didn’t come home”, Belén recalls. This moment became the starting point of a long, unanswered investigation.
People looked everywhere. Some checked the pier, wondering if a ship had carried him away. With no trace, the family pressed on. “Nine kilometers from home, the bicycle lay on the road toward the sea”, Belén remembers, a symbol of the distance between what was known and what remained unknown. Names spoke into the night as relatives cried out his name, hoping for a sign that never came.
The family turned to the Civil Guard, hoping for progress in a case that felt fragile and slow. “Very little was done back then, and the islands felt dangerous”, Belén says. The investigation relied on a single officer, Curro, who handled all aspects of the case, a reality that now seems distant yet painfully real. A taxi driver later claimed to have seen Alberto at an intersection, but the lead did not hold. “Albertito was not there, that much is certain”, Belén adds, painting a portrait of a search that stretched on without resolution.
Time moved on with more calls and more sightings that never solidified into answers. The family traveled, asking questions in Las Palmas and beyond, always chasing a possibility that would never settle. Someone suggested a hotel kitchen might hold clues. Belén took a plane alone, a journey that captured the fragility and determination of a family that refused to give up. Each year brought new rumors, new faces claiming to have seen him, new promises that mattered little in the end. Albertito remained absent. The glow of hope flickered and dimmed, then resurfaced with the same stubborn truth: a missing brother still haunted the family and the town.
Another memory emerged. A boy in a pink sweater appeared in Belén’s recollections, a fleeting connection that hinted at a larger mystery. The chain on Alberto’s bike had broken once, and the image of that moment lingered. The family clung to fragments, hoping they might converge into a coherent story someday. The whispered possibility that Alberto might have encountered others who recognized him kept the narrative alive in small, stubborn ways.
Belén notes that a mail-like note from a man described a boy working on a French ship and being identified as Alberto. An elder in Arrecife followed up, but the story did not resolve. Letters arrived, describing both glimpses and evasions, and the family sought to connect them to a person who would return eventually. The family’s resolve grew from the belief that Alberto had left behind something meaningful, a spark of identity that could never be erased by time.
Belén explains how Alberto stood out in San Bartolomé: bright, curious, and eager to learn. Some locals believed he might be taken to Germany, others suspected the shadowy pull of foreign interests. The case drew attention from people who hoped to profit from a young life’s mystery, yet the truth proved more elusive than any rumor. The search never settled into a final conclusion, and the family continued to move through a web of potential motives with a stubborn patience that defined their belief in Alberto’s story.
Another thread followed a sergeant’s daughter, a line of suspicion that suggested motives and opportunities beyond the family circle. The family explored many angles, debating who might have wondered about a life cut short or diverted. The possibility of human trafficking and the lure of sudden wealth haunted conversations at the restaurant and at home. The family grappled with the idea that ahabits of the island might conceal answers that never surfaced.
The accounts include letters from a mother who discovered notes from her son, suggesting a life separated by distance and time. The mother shared concerns about a sergeant’s wife and a complex web of relationships that may have connected family tragedy with a broader, darker network. The letters hinted at a boy who ran away or who was taken, but the thread never led to a conclusive outcome. The family’s attempt to understand included a careful look at possible lovers and alliances that might have influenced Alberto’s fate, yet the final answer remained out of reach.
Belén considers a possible sect angle and wonders if occult books found in the home might point to a hidden influence. The family’s search included these unsettling questions, even as the island’s memory wrestled with the gap between what happened and what could never be verified. The narrative persisted through years of silence, urging belief in the possibility that the truth could still emerge.
There were moments of optimism. A discovery on Mount Emina suggested bones that could belong to a teenage boy, and the family hoped for a breakthrough. The Civil Guard later explained that the remains did not match Alberto’s DNA, and the bones were believed to belong to someone from a much earlier era. Despite this setback, the family kept the faith that records might exist somewhere, waiting to fill in the gaps left by time. As years passed, those gaps remained wide. The paternal side grew older, and the files that could hold the key were not accessible. The family approached the Civil Guard again in later years, seeking a record that did not exist, a painful reminder of a case left without closure. In the end, the core fear endured: if Alberto was taken, the family lost their chance to recover a childhood, a brother, a future that could have been shared. Yet the dream of reunion stayed alive, a beacon that would not extinguish, even as the years kept piling up.]