My name is Adán de Jesús, and I am suffering from an injury caused by a blow to my head that I received from some Guatemalan men. They used to give me flowers to sell, and on the last day, which was Saturday, July 6, 2024, these men did not want to pay me my commission for the flowers. They hit me on the head, and I was in serious condition due to a hemorrhage caused by that blow. I was hospitalized in Tustin, and because of that injury, I lost a finger on my right hand.

I was already disabled, but I could still take care of myself. I have lasting marks from that blow those men gave me. I am in very bad condition, and many people criticize and humiliate me. I have been hospitalized many times. I have all my medical records so people can know the truth, especially those who have criticized and mocked me many times. They say I am drunk or that drugs left me this way. All of this hurts me deeply because I have never been a drunk or a drug addict. Please do not confuse my illness.

They humiliate me greatly and make many hurtful and absurd comments. If they do not know what happened, they should not comment on things they do not understand. I am here unable to work; my disability does not allow me to do so. I want to work and do not want to depend on anyone, but these men from Guatemala ruined my life. I helped them sell, and I already had disabilities before, but after what happened, I leave them in God’s hands—the people who harmed me forever.

I suffer from a brain injury caused by the hemorrhage from the blow, and these men are free because out of fear I did not report them immediately. They threatened to kill me if I reported them. They are still free, while I am here suffering criticism from people who do not know my history or what happened to me in Santa Ana, California, last year in 2024, at Bristol and Warner.

The men are two cousin brothers, and they are still selling at 1st Street and Bristol, near the Christian church. They sell on Mondays, Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. I have to beg to help pay my rent and buy food. I receive no help from anyone except God my Father and from people who help me with whatever they can. Sometimes they give me flowers to sell. A young man who sells at Edinger and Bristol, by the botanical shop La Purísima, sometimes helps me.

I do not have good balance in my body. Many times, Santa Ana bus drivers have discriminated against me and humiliated me. Sometimes they leave me in my wheelchair and do not let me board, thinking I am a drug addict. They have yelled at me because I cannot place my pass in the bus machine due to my body tremors.

The woman who helps me take me to doctors and medical appointments supports me as much as she can. Even she has been criticized, spoken badly about, and made to cry many times. Because she helps me, she lost her small job and receives no help either. She also struggles by selling flowers to survive.

The Guatemalan men who live in Los Angeles and come to sell in Santa Ana—the ones who attacked me—are happy and free because I could not file the report on time. When I finally went in January 2025, the police did not want to help me, saying too much time had passed. Later they did give me a report, but they did not include that I lost my right-hand finger or that I almost lost my life. The lawyer said the report was useless because the police only listed it as an assault, not as a serious injury. I have medical records proving how serious my condition was.

Today I suffer from severe anxiety and depression, and I fall frequently. The woman who helps me is not my mother—my dear mother has already passed away. The woman people see pushing my wheelchair is the one who has been helping me get to the hospital and doctors. It hurts me because for helping me, she lost her job.

I wish there were a lawyer who could help me with what was done to me. I am alone and have no family here. During the caravans, one of my daughters came with her husband, but she did not want to help me. The only thing she cared about was whether I was working or had money. The little I had when I worked, she and her husband took from me. His name is Mario Martínez Molina, and my daughter is Carolina Liseth Barillas. They moved to another city and even changed their phone number so I could not ask for help.

This is my story. I lost my father in the war, and I have suffered greatly. May God multiply the blessings of those who help me.

At this time, I am humbly asking for help to improve my quality of life. I need assistance to obtain a wheelchair-accessible vehicle so I can safely travel to medical appointments and daily necessities. I also need financial help for ongoing medical care, treatments, medications, and therapy related to my condition. In addition, I am seeking help to secure a stable and safe home where I can live and receive proper care, as my disability prevents me from living independently. I also need support to cover basic necessities such as food and daily living expenses. Any help, no matter how small, would be deeply appreciated and would make a meaningful difference in my life.

Blessings,

Adán de Jesús Barillas Ángel