According to witnesses, Martinez lost control of the animal after it became startled during a routine trail ride.
“Both horse and rider disappeared into the woods,” said Jennifer Dunleavy, spokeswoman for Sacred Trinity. “One of our instructors went after her, searching and calling, but couldn’t find either of them. There are more than thirty miles of trail that run deep into the forest. The school sent out additional riders to help with the search, and notified police, as well, who sent reinforcements. Even if they’d found her sooner . . . but they didn’t.”
Martinez was reported missing at approximately 10:30 a.m. Saturday, said Deputy Eric Robertson, a sheriff’s spokesman. She wasn’t found until approximately 5:30 p.m., seven miles from where she was last seen.
Authorities believe Martinez became dislodged from her horse after it attempted to jump a small ravine, and fell, striking her head. She was wearing a helmet, but suffered a broken neck.
“Lucia was an exemplary rider for her age,” said Martin Shorecraft, director of athletics at Sacred Heart. “But we still took every precaution for her health and safety. Sometimes accidents like this simply happen.”
Martinez, who lived in Pacific Grove, was declared dead at 8:30 p.m. on Saturday at St. Francis Medical Center in Monterey. The medical examiner ruled the cause of death as asphyxiation.
A spokesperson for Sacred Trinity who asked not to be identified said that the horse that the child was riding has been put down.
Martinez’s death elicited immediate and mournful responses from the community.
“Lucia will live on forever in the hearts and minds of all those she touched here at Sacred Trinity,” said Father Francisco Rivera, the headmaster at Sacred Trinity. “We are deeply saddened to hear of her passing.”
“Lucia was a sweet and happy girl who lived life to the fullest,” said Anna Martinez, the victim’s grandmother. “She always wanted a horse, and to learn to ride. Both those wishes came true. She died at the happiest moment of her life.”
Lucia’s funeral will be held at 1 p.m. a week from Saturday at the Sacred Trinity Chapel. She will be laid to rest at the San Carlos Cemetery in Monterey, California.
There was a photo that accompanied the article. In it, a solemn, round-faced little girl with long blond bangs and curls down to her shoulders gazed into the camera, her chubby hands folded neatly on a table before her. It was a school photo—she was in her Trinity uniform—so smiling wasn’t strictly encouraged, but her large brown eyes weren’t smiling, either.
Maybe Lucia was just a kid who’d always been unhappy, despite her grandmother’s assertion.
Or maybe she’d sensed her tragic fate to come.
When Jesse lowered my phone, I asked, “Well? Do you still want to kill her?”
“She’s already dead,” he said calmly. “I can’t kill her. But I can keep her from killing someone else.”
“You know what I mean, Jesse. Look at her photo. That girl was scared to death of something. And I don’t believe she died from falling off a horse.”
“I don’t see how you got that from reading this article.”
Jesse was nothing if not stubborn. Well, you sort of had to be if you were going to survive what he had and come out of it with your sanity intact.
“I got it from having common sense, Jesse. If Lucia died at the happiest moment of her life, like old granny Martinez says, why hasn’t she moved on to her next life, or gone up to heaven to eat cotton candy and play the harp all day, or whatever it is that happens to people who really do die without having left behind any loose ends? Instead she’s down here on earth, guarding her friend Becca to within an inch of her life. Something went on in those woods, something no one at Sacred Trinity is talking about because they either don’t know, or are covering it up. But Lucia knows. That could be why she was killed, to keep her quiet.”
“Is that why they killed the horse, too, Susannah? To keep it from giving evidence of what it knew?”
I blinked up at him, not certain if he was being serious or sarcastic. With Jesse, it was sometimes hard to tell, especially at moments like this, when his expression was so completely impassive.
Almost completely impassive. Even though it had grown dark enough outside to trigger the landscape lighting, and the cars pulling into the parking lot had their headlights switched on, I was able to see that his brown eyes had cleared of the shadows that had been hovering there before.
“I knew that part would get to you.” I couldn’t help grinning at him. “You have a soft spot for horses.”
“I have a soft spot for children,” he corrected me. “Especially children who’ve been neglected or treated cruelly.”
“Which Lucia obviously was—”
“I wouldn’t say obviously. We don’t have evidence of that . . . yet,” he added when I inhaled to protest. “But I’ll admit it’s worth investigating, if we can do so without ending up here, like Father Dominic.”