Rescuers, arriving at the scene, were greeted by the mangled door.

When they pried it open, their faces registered sheer astonishment.

Conventional wisdom held that in a crash, a driver's instinct might swerve the vehicle. Contrary to that, the driver in front of them had done the opposite and taken the impact head-on.

Leonel's thighs were drenched in blood, the crimson stark against the grey fabric of his suit, a grisly sight.

His legs, trapped and immobile, continued to bleed. Propped against the seat, Leonel's voice was faint. “My wife, my daughter-where are they?"