For families of Key Bridge collapse victims, a search for justice begins

BALTIMORE (AP) — Years after immigrating to the U.S. and settling in the Baltimore area, Maria del Carmen Castellon was working toward a new chapter of her family’s American dream, hoping to expand her successful food truck business into a Salvadoran restaurant.

Her husband, Miguel Luna, was right there beside her. Years of welding and construction jobs had begun taking a toll on his health, but he kept working because he couldn’t afford to retire yet. He was filling potholes on an overnight shift when disaster struck. A massive container ship lost power and slammed into the Francis Scott Key Bridge, sending Luna and five other men plunging to their deaths as the steel span collapsed into the water below.

Several months later, Luna’s family is still struggling to construct a future without him.

“Miguel had tireless energy, not because he wanted to but because he had to provide for our family,” Castellon said in Spanish, speaking through a translator at a news conference Tuesday. “A wound has opened in my heart that will never heal.”

She appeared alongside other victims’ relatives and attorneys to announce their plans to take legal action against the owner and manager of the Dali, arguing the companies acted with negligence and ignored problems on the ship before the March 26 collapse.

RELATED COVERAGE Loose electrical cable found on ship that caused Baltimore bridge collapse Maryland awards contract for Francis Scott Key Bridge rebuild after deadly collapse CSX profit slipped as the railroad scrambled to respond to Baltimore bridge collapse

A last-minute mayday call from the ship’s pilot allowed police officers to stop traffic to the bridge, but they didn’t have time to alert the road work crew. Most of the men were sitting in their construction vehicles during a break and had no warning. One survived falling from the bridge by manually opening the window of his truck and climbing out into the frigid waters of the Patapsco River.

Following the disaster, salvage divers worked around the clock to recover the victims’ bodies. The underwater wreckage blocked the main channel into the Port of Baltimore for months, disrupting East Coast shipping routes and putting many longshoremen temporarily out of work.

All six of the victims were Latino immigrants who came to the U.S. seeking better-paying jobs and opportunities for their families. Most had lived in the country for many years, including Luna, who grew up in El Salvador. He left behind five children.

Luna would often go straight from a construction shift to helping at the food truck, where his wife served up pupusas and other Salvadoran dishes. The business attracted a diverse clientele and had a loyal following in their close-knit Latino community south of Baltimore.

Castellon said the business symbolized their shared vision for the future. Just days before his death, Luna surprised her with a visit to the storefront they hoped to rent.

“Every mile driven in that food truck, every vegetable chopped took us a step closer to our dreams,” she said. “Those moments were filled with laughter, love and plans for what our life could be.”

She recalled how he stopped by the food truck before heading to work the last time. She gave him dinner and he gave her a kiss.

In seeking justice for her family, Castellon said, she hopes to prevent future tragedies by advocating for safer working conditions. She wants more robust protections for immigrant workers who too often find themselves taking dangerous jobs no one else is willing to do. She displayed a pair of her husband’s old welding uniforms, noting holes in the fabric caused by flying sparks.

Gustavo Torres, executive director of the Maryland-based advocacy group CASA, said it should come as no surprise that the victims of the collapse were immigrant workers. He said their suffering must not be brushed under the rug by corporate interests.

“No financial loss can compare to the loss of human life,” Torres said at the news conference, calling the victims “six irreplaceable souls” whose loved ones are trying to pick up the pieces after their worlds were destroyed in an instant.

The Dali is owned by Grace Ocean Private Ltd. and managed by Synergy Marine Group, both of Singapore. The companies filed a court petition days after the collapse seeking to limit their legal liability, a routine procedure for cases litigated under U.S. maritime law. The joint filing seeks to cap their liability at roughly $43.6 million in what could become the most expensive marine casualty case in history.

Darrell Wilson, a spokesperson for the ship’s owner, said the victims’ upcoming challenge was anticipated and noted there is a Sept. 24 deadline for such filings in the case. He declined to comment further on the pending litigation.

Several other interested parties, including city officials and local businesses, have already filed opposing claims accusing the companies of negligence. Filings on behalf of the victims and their families are expected in coming days.

Preliminary findings from a National Transportation Safety Board investigation show that the Dali experienced a series of electrical issues before and after leaving the Port of Baltimore. The ship was destined for Sri Lanka when it experienced a power blackout and lost steering at the worst possible moment. The FBI launched an investigation into the circumstances leading up to the crash.

A plan is underway to rebuild the bridge, but it could take years.

Meanwhile, Castellon said she plans to continue pursuing her dream of opening a restaurant — now in her husband’s honor.

“I know he is up there watching down on me, celebrating all of the victories with me,” she said. “I will continue to make him proud.”