Alligator Alcatraz, Part II- The Camera Man is Run Over.

 

The Camera Man is Run Over. Watercolor and ink on paper. 9in. x 12in.

The weekend after independence day, my friend Thomas and I sketched at Alligator Alcatraz. Read part one of this article here. 

    After taking photos of the signs, we crossed back to the south side of the road, snapping shots as we headed back to my belongings. I walked towards the oncoming traffic on the shoulder, next to the outside of the white line, with BooBoo in my arms, cell phone on my hand and Thomas immediately behind me. At this point cars slowed down significantly to observe the demonstration. Around a hundred yards before me, I noticed when a beige SUV moved to the left lane, as it was about to pass a camera man’s tripod set up on the shoulder. Traveling eastbound, this was probably the driver’s first encounter with an open area and a person on the shoulder, after passing a number of cars parked there. I expected this to happen, as in Florida it is the law for drivers to move over and yield to vehicles stopped on the shoulder when traffic allows, and there were no vehicles heading west. I noticed the next car inmediately, a blue Jeep moving significantly slower than the SUV. I looked straight towards the driver as I neared it, hoping to make eye contact with teh driver and expecting the vehicle to yield. 

Walking forward fixated on the Jeep, I thought to myself: “Wow. When is this car moving out of the way?” Well, It didn't. The Jeep was about ten feet way from us when we passed the camera man. Thomas stepped to the left, heading deeper into the shoulder, and I rounded the tripod to the right, with little space left between the tripod and the approaching Jeep. It was at that moment that the front right tire of the jeep passed me at arms’ length and I tapped the vehicle in disapproval, still trying to make eye contact with either driver or passenger. The two women inside were distracted, looking at the demonstrators across the road. I was next to the passenger’s door when I heard loud screams behind me. Stepping back, I saw the camera man on the ground, with the Jeep’s right front wheel completely on top of his lower left leg, sandwiched between the tire and the road. His right leg was hidden by the jeep and his body was bent towards the leg, head struggling upwards as he screamed in panic. I turned to look at the driver and asked her to back up. The driver was mortified; surprise and horror distinctly visible on her face. The Jeep backed up gently, as the driver stretched her neck trying to see, saying "Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God!" nonstop. She stopped the vehicle once she saw the man’s body on the ground, remained in place and hyperventilated in a stupefied state. 

My head went back and forth between the driver and the man on the ground. People assisted the man promptly, as he tried to get up. A trooper came to the driver’s window and asked her to calm down and take deep breaths. Photographers, camera people and reporters swarmed the scene, snapping photos and trying to get an explanation from the victim, who was advised to remain in place. The reporter from Tampa told me the camera man worked for EFE. He was given water, shade and a funny looking hat while someone fanned his face. The driver and passenger were stunned and maintained that the camera man was on the road. Voicing my disagreement, I was asked to give my information to police as eye witness. I felt terrible seeing the driver and her young companion trying to make sense of this chaotic scene, desperately blaming it on the camera man. I approached the driver and tried to comfort her, telling her " I’m sorry this happened to you and him. We all make mistakes, I know you didn't mean to do it. Everything is going to be ok". Her hand reached out for mine shaking, and she offered me many blessings. Unbeknownst to me, the reporter from Univision was already at work at this time and captured me in the background of her video, while talking to the driver. The camera man was picked up by an ambulance and taken to the detention  center's grounds to be examined. When it was all over, a female officer spread her arms open and signaled for everyone to stay behind the white line. She said " Thank you for being here, I appreciate you being here."

       I was talking to a new reporter when a man in full National Guard uniform approached us smiling ear to ear, asking for permission to pet BooBoo. He assured us that everything was going to be ok, while he teased and played with my canine companion. He shared the love for his dog excitedly, a sweet chihuahua named Josephine Coco Pebbles. Smiling, told us the origins of her name and that she has her own instagram page. It is in moments like this that I appreciate the privilege of being encharged of BooBoo, and his ability to remind us of our commonalities, no matter where he is. 

   We drove directly to a quiet lunch place in Miami, where we sat in silence to write and research while we ate. That night we shared a room at THE worst LaQuinta Inn Hotel I have ever visited (‘nuff said). Thomas completed a sketch based on a photo I took at the scene and quickly published it before the end of the day.  I composed the first part of my article and went to bed. It was around 3:30 am when I woke up still disturbed by the event, and walked with Boo on the unkept patches of dirt around the hotel, with the image of the camera man under the tire seared in my mind. Thomas woke up when I came in the room and asked in the dark: “Can’t sleep? Wanna work?”, I replied yes, and we got busy reenacting the accident. We looked at photos and videos taken at the scene, relied on our memory as trained visual artists, and knowledge of anatomy and movement as former animation artists to make sense of the man’s final position. Thomas acted as my model while we gathered our observations and figured out the mechanics and physics of the possible movements involved. We asked ourselves: “Where exactly was the camera man? What happened after the first push by the bumper? What side of the hip led the action? How fast did he move? What leg followed the movement through  in order for him to land this way? What did his ankle do? Where was the white line in relation to the Jeep?” I created the rough sketch of my drawing urging Thomas to assume the man’s position as I described it, still vivid in my memory. I finished the sketch on our way back to Orlando.

    As traumatic as this event was for us to witness, it is not news worthy. I researched further information on the camera man's recovery, but have no leads on the story other than what I have shared here. It could be because it was not caused by malice, racial or politically divisive ideas. 

Here are photos related to parts I and II of this article.

On Location

Alligator Alcatraz, Part I

Entrance to Alligator Alcatraz. Watercolor, Ink and color pencils on paper, 9in. x 12 in.

    On independence day weekend my friend Thomas and I drove down to Alligator Alcatraz, to record the protests happening there, as urban sketchers and visual reporters. We also thought it was the most appropriate way to observe U.S. independence day this year, by highlighting the loss of freedom many are experiencing today. It was a failed attempt. Thomas completed a sketch from the reference materials we gathered and wrote about it in his blog.  I was prompted to go back after reading a letter written by the Florida Division of Emergency Management, circulated on social media the following Thursday. The agency invited Florida state legislators and members of congress to visit the location after being denied entrance the week prior. This denial was an illegal act towards said officials, which  resulted in legal action against governor DeSantis and caused said invitation. 

Letter circulated on social media. July 10, 2025.

    As a law abiding naturalized citizen, I was surprised by the fear I felt driving back to this place. The thought of being a Latina amongst demonstrators concerned me, as I remembered recent headlines of  detainment practices by ICE agents. However, above all, I am an artist, which means I must be courageous and true to myself no matter what, so my work remains honest. I put my fears aside and got ready to observe and absorb. This time we arrived Saturday morning, when people congregated under a press tent set up on the south side of the road, listening to congressman Maxwell Alejandro Frost of Florida’s 10th district. I moved away from the press tent once Thomas set up to sketch and headed to the side of the road instead, facing North towards the entrance. BooBoo, my loyal canine companion, sat on my lap taking advantage of the shade my wide umbrella provided. I eventually moved him to rest under the shade on the ground, where he laid on the cool, damp earth, leashed next to me, after drinking some water. 

    Reporters circled us shortly after I started working. They asked about my involvement and personal opinion about Alligator Alcatraz: Are you a Meekosukee indian? (because you look like you could be one). Do you have any relatives incarcerated here? What’s your dog’s name? Why are you here? Does the dog have water? What do you think of this detention center being so close to indigenous land? Where are you from? What do you think of the Major of Miami not being able to visit?  I answered their questions the best I could, informed by my experience in Big Cypress National Preserve as a thru-hiker of the FNST, a research artist and author of my thesis titled, Evolving Perceptions of Self and Others: The Effects of Communing with Nature While Thru Hiking the Florida National Scenic Trail. It is here that I discuss the importance of respecting Nature as an entity, working with indigenous people as stewards of the land, and healing through Nature.

    Honestly, there were so many reporters that I could not keep their agencies straight. I talked to a reporter from Univision Digital in Spanish, the Miami Herald, a newspaper from Tampa and another from Boca Raton, to name a few. Reporters, camera men and photographers seemed to outnumber demonstrators at times, and caught up to the representatives as they arrived in black SUV’s. I was talking to a reporter from Tampa as I worked when he showed me a rusty nail, about three inches long. He and others found a number of them off the shoulder of the road, where demonstrators park their cars. I was surprised by the malice of this action, so I drew a number of nails floating in the lower half of my sketch. 

    This was a difficult location to sketch for three reasons: a) Answering questions by the media made it difficult to concentrate and work quickly. b) Even sitting under my double layered, oversized umbrella, the heat was distracting. Sweat ran down my face and arms constantly, making it challenging to hold my tools and metal umbrella shaft without slipping. c) Unbeknownst to me, fountain pens leak at the nib under heat, due to the expansion of air inside the pen and the thinning of the ink. High humidity also affects the pen’s internal seals increasing leakage. In short, since it was both hot and humid, my loved fountain pen had a major temper tantrum. Lesson learned: Always carry a Micron pen when sketching in hot, humid weather. 

    Demonstrators for both sides of the issue stood next to each other, held their signs, were interviewed or photographed, waved at drivers passing by and minded their own business. The overall atmosphere was serene, occasionally disrupted by loud, encouraging honks from cars. Drivers slowed down to read signs. Co-pilots filmed or snapped photos, and some people traveling alone held their phones on their steering wheel as they drove, filming the protestors on both sides of the road. Some people stuck their head and hands out the window giving thumbs up, clapping or shouting “Thank you, Thank you for being here!” as they passed, while others whooped and pumped a fist on tempo to their shouting of “Trump, Trump, Trump!”. At one point a family of three appeared and stood under the sign to the facility. Mom and dad took turns waving an oversized Betsy Ross flag with the numbers 1776 printed in yellow in the middle of the circle of stars, against the dark blue background. The daughter, in her early teens, held a flag that said Trump! Make America Great Again! with her arms opened wide. She wrapped the flag around herself when her arms tired. The three of them adopted serious countenances and heroic poses for the cameras on command from the moment they appeared, as they were engulfed by reporters on the hot asphalt. 

    As noon approached, the heat intensified. Although it had been almost two hours, I was far from finishing my sketch due to the interruptions. I took the closing On location photo at this point, when I decided to end the session and finish the work later. I packed up and set my belongings aside, carried Boo on one arm and maneuvered the umbrella between my shoulder and him as I crossed the road, cell phone in hand, towards the North side to photograph signs. Thomas waited under a shady tree there. Everyone was kind when I asked for a photo, regardless of their political stand. 

    I led the way and with BooBoo still in my arms, quickly crossed back to the South side of the road, snapping shots and making my way to my belongings. We walked on the shoulder, next to the outside of the white line, when I noticed a blue jeep heading slowly towards me. 

Here are photos of the day, up to this point.

On Location

                           

Stay tuned for Part II of Alligator Alcatraz, where I reconstruct how a news camera man was run over on this day.