For years, people grappled with shame, guilt and — in many cases — the horror of what happened to them in Mexico. They went on vacations to fancy resorts, excited to spend a week in the warm sun at an all-inclusive. What they got were terrifying experiences. After a few drinks or – in some cases – just one, they became what appeared to be out-of-control intoxicated, sometimes violently vomiting, convulsing and passing out, with no memory of what happened. For several, the outcome was worse. They awoke to learn they had been sexually assaulted, had broken bones and other injures. Some never woke up. They drowned after blacking out in resort pools.
Those lucky enough to survive endured further anguish, facing hostile hotel staffers, reluctant and unhelpful police, and hospital workers more interested in their wallets than saving their lives. Often these travelers came back home and hid their experience, feeling they brought their misery on themselves. After all, they figured, they did drink alcohol so maybe it was their own fault. They worried no one would believe they blacked out after only one or two drinks. The Mexican authorities dismissed such episodes as the folly of drunk Americans, who went nuts at an all-inclusive.
But doubts lingered. How could someone lose consciousness with such a small amount of alcohol? Why were couples, sometimes very differently-sized couples, suffering the same effects at the same time? How was it that the hotel, police and hospital all seemed to be working in cahoots to rip off the tourists?
The experience of Abbey Conner proved to be the story that pierced this atmosphere of silence. Journal Sentinel reporter Raquel Rutledge heard about the tragic story and couldn’t shake its haunting nature: A Wisconsin couple went to Mexico with their two college-aged children. When the parents went back to their room to get ready for dinner, Abbey and her brother, Austin, had a few more drinks by the pool. When the siblings didn’t show up for dinner, the parents learned they were at the hospital. Abbey was brain-dead and on life support. Austin was groggy but coming to – with a gash to his forehead, an unexplained concussion and no memory of what happened to this sister or himself.
Rutledge reported out the story, looking for plausible reasons of what had happened. That led to more questions and stonewalling by Iberostar, the sprawling international company that owned the resort, among many others. The article published as a puzzling tale, one that asked how the series of events could have happened, questions any family would have. That story broke open the floodgates, filling Rutledge’s in-box. She soon was hearing remarkably similar stories from people across North America, people who drank little and became inexplicably, violently sick. Some were sexually assaulted. Others told how their loved ones died. Some were ripped off or extorted for money. None got any justice. They were shut out from assistance in Mexico. The FBI and the State Department offered no help back in the States. By the end of the year, she was investigating 140 cases. Rutledge also pursued an examination of TripAdvisor, which muzzled travelers who tried to warn others about what happened. Her reporting, undoubtedly, is saving lives.