The Richmond Virginian. (Richmond, Va.) 1910-1920, 1916-01-24
my Brother Is Innocent" Says
Elder Duran Just Before
Volley Is Fired
BODIES DISPLAYED TO
VIEW OF AMERICANS
See How Mexicans Die; Our
Death viii Not Go Unaveng.
ed Defiant Last Words of
Slayer of American

FL Paso. Tex. Jan. 23.--With q
curse upon their lips against the
American people, two young MeM
cans-brothers-we shot to death By
a Carranza firing squad In the Juarez
Cemetery at 8 O'Clock this morning
for the murder of Bert L. Akers, an
American rancher of Ysleta, Texas.
Barnedo and Ferdrlco Duran, the ex-
ecuted men, went to their death stand
ing shoulder to shoulder against the
whitewashed adobe wall of the ceme-
terry. They faced the firing squad
with undaunted bravery, refused to
be blindfolded, and fell together at
the first volley.
Almost their last words was this
challenge. flung at the small group
OF American newspaper men and
friends OF the murdered Akers:
Watch and see how Mexicans die,
you Americana" The only plea of
any sort was made by Bernedo Du-
ran. the elder brother a few minutes
before the end
Standing beside the cemetery gate.
he said. in his own tongue, to the In-
ternational News Service eorrespon-
dent-the only American who talked
to the prisoners:
We are dying for you Americans.
Tell the world that l shot the Amer
lean because he was trying to force
entrance to my home, j was defend
ing my rights, as any man would have
done.
My Brother Innocent.
MY brother here is entirely inno-
cent, He didn't fire shot, but they
are going to kill him, too. Tell me,
is that Justice? He Is being sacrificed
to your American public opinion. We
a. F,sr,f n ~ 10 but OI1o
an innocent man be killed? He is
only twenty-five years old, | am
twenty-four. Some day We will be
avenged
While the elder talked the younger
brother stood beside him. hands peck
eted and lips quivering slightly. but
saying nothing. The prisoners were
bound together by ropes.
The Juarez Cemetery Is a mile and
a half from the jail. where the con-
demned men spent their last night.
The morning air was cold. but they
wore no coats when they emerged at
80 A NJ, from the prison and took
their place between six silent guards
and set out, afoot for the place OF
death. Beside the firing squad rode
its comma nier, Captain Alfredo Or
tiz,
with heads bent, the brothers strobe
along. talking softly to each other.
Their guards, muffTed IN gudy -colored
blankets, shuffled beside them. once
or twice the elder brothers arm went
caressingly over the youngers should
er and he whispered a word of comfort.
The Road Gloomy One.
The road TO the cemetery is n gloomy
one, even by day. 1t leads over n
plain dotted with sickly mesquite and
cactus. The last half mile before the
cemetery gate. the road straightens
out and the white crosses are visible
long before the gate is reached.
Neglect has made the burylng
ground even more desolate than usual,
The crosses stand awry over many
graves. Few are erect. Standing thus
at grotesque angles. they make weird
shadows on the weed-eovered turf and
marble slabs.
Slowly the little procession APP
preached the gate, which stands at the
crest of a gentle rise.
Through that gate have gone hun
dreds of prisoners sentenced to death.
most of them war captives. The
Americans waiting at the entrance In
voluntarily shrank back as the pris-
oners and their guards arrived at the
gate which was swung open by the
deaf old sexton. who has guarded 1t
for years.
It is of iron and 1t creaked upon
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