Family of farmworker shot by police recalls his difficult life

Antonio Zambrano-Montes’ mother approached the blue casket — and fainted.

She hadn’t seen her son in 10 years, not since he’d left their tiny village in Mexico to pick apples in the orchards around Pasco.

And now Zambrano-Montes, 35, lay in Mueller’s Greenlee Funeral Home in Pasco, the victim of a police shooting caught on video.

Agapita Montes Rivera, 60, was helped to a small chair in the next room. Her frequent sobs flowed into the beats of the Mexican folk ballads emanating from the funeral home speakers.

Dozens of loved ones came to pay their respects to Zambrano-Montes, who was dressed in a white shirt and loose-fitting black suit. A picture of Jesus was stitched into his blue striped tie.

It was the first opportunity for the family to grieve together after two weeks of marches and campaigns demanding justice for his death. A funeral Mass will be held Wednesday afternoon at St. Patrick’s Catholic Church in Pasco.

Zambrano-Montes’ death left the family devastated and confused. Montes, 60, said it was painful to watch the video of her unarmed son collapsing as the police fired at him. She cried recalling happier times of him as a playful little boy with an easy smile.

“He was very happy,” she said. “He sang all the time, wherever he went.”

Much of Zambrano-Montes’ extended family has settled in the Mid-Columbia. He is one of 16 children, both here and in Mexico. Ten years ago, he joined generations of family members who left their poor village in Michoacan in search of a better life. The village, La Parotita, has just 16 homes. No public transportation. No drinking water.

“There is a joke that every year we meet a new relative,” said Delia Zambrano, 28, a cousin. “It sounds ridiculous, but it’s true.”

But Zambrano-Montes, or Toño, as loved ones called him, did not experience the “American Dream” as sometimes described in the movies. He struggled. He made some bad choices.

His wife filed a protection order in 2006 against him and moved to California with their two daughters. She said he physically abused her, according to court documents. He lost his income after falling from a ladder and breaking both wrists, his family said. Just weeks ago, he had to be rescued from his home when it caught on fire.

He fought bouts of depression. He felt terrible that he couldn’t send money back home to his mother and father in Mexico, cousins said.

But life has always been tough for a family who for years had to fetch their water with mules. And his brother, Temo, said his brother could endure. Zambrano-Montes had promised his mother his hands would heal and he’d work again.

It’s his brother’s hands that made Temo question police accounts that Zambrano-Montes was acting aggressive and throwing softball-sized rocks. Temo said his brother told him his fingers didn’t work after the accident.

“He could barely move his fingers, let alone throw a big rock,” Temo said.

Rosa Cisneros Zambrano was one of the last to see Zambrano-Montes alive.

Three days before he died, Cisneros, 50, ran into her cousin on a street near Pasco High. She invited him for tea. She had brought him some new clothes after his home burned down — a couple of pairs of pants, some shorts and three shirts.

She wanted to know how he was doing, she said.

He told her he had other plans, but wanted to share that he was going back to work on Feb. 20, she said. The orchard agreed to bring him back in a less-demanding job covering trees. He felt his streak of bad luck may have been turning around.

Cisneros gave him a hug. He promised to come by soon for a proper visit.

“He said he was going to come, but he can’t now,” she said.

Cisneros can’t get the video out of her head, she said. She didn’t realize at first that it was her cousin when she first watched it. For days, she felt like she was losing her mind. How could they do this? Why would they shoot him?

Last week, Cisneros had brought Zambrano-Montes’ mother to the makeshift memorial where he was killed, and cried as she held her up.

Montes nearly collapsed to her knees crying out, Cisneros said.

“Son of my life. How is this possible? Tell me God? My beautiful boy.”

Nothing more traumatic for any officer

The Feb. 10 incident was not Zambrano-Montes’ first encounter with law enforcement.

He once tried to grab an officer’s gun from his belt while under the influence of methamphetamine. He was convicted of assault in 2014 after a confrontation with Pasco police, who tried to stop him from hitting cars with a broom, according to court documents.

On Feb. 10, police responded to a complaint of a man throwing rocks at cars. They confronted Zambrano-Montes and commanded him to stop. He didn’t. Instead he threw rocks at the officers, hitting two. A stun gun didn’t subdue him. He ran.

A 20-second video posted on YouTube shows officers chasing Zambrano-Montes across a busy intersection. Guns are drawn. He flails his arms. When he turns back to the police, the officers shoot.

The three officers involved in the shooting have all been placed on paid leave as a special investigations team from neighboring communities looks at the case.

A request to speak to the officers was referred to a national police union.

Jim Pasco, the executive director of the Fraternal Order of Police, urged people not to jump to conclusions and let the investigation play out. He did not address the specific charges, but said he was confident the officers involved would be exonerated provided they followed their training.

But he said there was nothing more traumatic for any officer than to take a person’s life.

“This is not something that you get up in the morning planning to do,” he said.

Loved ones have called for an independent U.S. Department of Justice investigation.

“We want justice. That’s all we want,” said Zambrano-Montes’ sister, Elena Rosa Zambrano, 28.

To help them, the family hired a high-profile civil rights attorney, Benjamin Crump, who represented the family of Michael Brown, the black man killed by a police officer in Ferguson, Mo. He also represented the family of Trayvon Martin, who was shot to death in Florida by neighborhood watch volunteer George Zimmerman.

‘You can’t change someone’s heart’

Family members talked of wanting to keep a positive memory of Zambrano-Montes.

Ninety percent of the family doesn’t speak English, so they’ve shied away from giving interviews, Cisneros said. But they want the people of the Tri-Cities to know he was a good man with a healthy sense of humor. He had an easy laugh and he enjoyed playing soccer with his cousins.

Pedro Farias, 32, said his uncle was much like anyone else in the community. He was the son of two loving parents. He was a brother and father.

Zambrano’s niece, Erika Farias, a mother herself, worries about his two daughters, who now are without a father. “That’s what’s so sad about all this,” she said. “He has children.”

His aunt, Angela Zambrano, said he was searching for what every Mexican is searching for when they come to the United States: A better future for his family. But he never got the chance.

“He didn’t lose his dream,” she said. “They took it away.”

Delia Zambrano said the family has been worn down trying to respond to every criticism. But she quickly realized that people made up their minds about her cousin quickly and won’t be convinced otherwise.

“You can’t change someone’s mind,” she said. “More so you can’t change someone’s heart.”

Instead, she said, they’re focusing on each other and sharing positive memories of “Toño.”

Inside the funeral home, Zambrano’s mother sat under the soft light of a gold lamp. Her daughter dabbed her head with a wet tissue. Cousins, nieces, and nephews lined up to embrace her.

“Mis condolences,” Delia Zambrano whispered in her aunt’s ear. “My condolences.”

Montes pressed her face into her niece’s shoulder and sighed.

This story was originally published February 24, 2015 at 7:00 PM.