It was a sunny day in Vancouver on April 26, 1981. Carmen Aguirre and her cousin Macarena were walking along a trail in the University of British Columbia Endowment Lands, giggling and talking about boys. Typical 13-year-old girl type of stuff. They were looking to share a smoke that Carmen had snuck from her dad’s pack of cigarettes.
As they walked down the trail they heard a twig snap behind them. Freezing in fear, they thought that they were somehow busted for the cigarette. The reality was far worse.