Horror Stories - The Werewolf of El Paso: The Untold Account of a Border Watchman (2017)

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Starting point is 00:01:26 In the desert of El Paso, the wind doesn't just drag sand. It also carries screams that don't sound human. In 2017, I worked as a night watchman at an old family seminar. that had been trapped between industrial zones and the border. One night under a clear moon, the thermal sensors on the perimeter fence picked up something moving at an impossible speed for a coyote. When I swung the spotlight toward the canyon rocks bordering the graves, I saw a beast standing upright, broad-shouldered with dark fur that seemed to swallow the light. The El Paso Werewolf isn't a story to scare children.

Starting point is 00:02:04 It's a reality that followed me from the shadows of the mausoleums waiting for the exact, moment to strike. Let's go down into the desert now. My name is Miguel Angelo Cordero. I'm 42 years old, and I've spent more than 15 years working in private security along the border strip between the United States and Mexico. In this line of work, I've seen everything, from smugglers to groups of immigrants lost in the middle of nowhere. But nothing, absolutely nothing, had prepared me for what I lived through during those three nights in March of 2017 at San Rafael's Cemetery. a place forgotten by God and by men, set into the foothills of the Franklin Mountains east of El Paso. San Rafael's cemetery isn't one of those tourist graveyards that show up in travel guides.

Starting point is 00:02:51 It's a private place, belonging to an old family of Spanish origin that arrived in Texas in the 19th century. Entire generations of the Villarreal, the Ochoa, and the Mendoza are buried there. Families that once held power in this region, but over the years faded away or moved to bigger cities. The cemetery remained abandoned for decades, until a real estate company bought it with the idea of turning it into a modern memorial park. However, construction stopped because of legal problems with Samirs, and the place was left in a kind of legal limbo, guarded only by a security company that hired watchmen like me to do night rounds and make sure no one desecrated the graves or used the land for illegal activities. When I was assigned the night shift at San Rafael in mid-March 2017, I didn't give it much importance. I'd spent years doing this type of work, and to me, a night in a cemetery wasn't that different

Starting point is 00:03:47 from a night in an empty warehouse or an industrial parking lot. That said, I did know people in the area spoke about San Rafael with a certain superstitious respect. Old-timers in the neighborhood swore that at night you could hear wailing, and that some had seen strange lights floating between the headstones. But I've never been the kind of person who gets scared by ghost stories. I'm Catholic. I go to Mass on Sundays, but I'm also practical. The dead are dead, and the living are the ones who cause trouble.

Starting point is 00:04:19 The cemetery is about three hectares of land. It's enclosed by a stone wall almost two meters high, built more than 100 years ago, and in some stretches it has collapsed, leaving gaps where anyone can get in without much effort. The vegetation is typical of the Chihuahuan desert, thorny shrubs, giant prickly pears, and twisted mesquite trees that look like skeletal remains. The oldest graves are simple wooden crosses, already rotted away. While the graves of the wealthy families are marble mausoleums with carved angels and wrought iron doors that squeal when the wind touches them. In the center there's a small adobe chapel, with part of the roof collapsed. My post was a metal watchtower about four meters tall, placed next to the cemetery's main entrance.

Starting point is 00:05:07 From there I could watch almost all the grounds, except for some areas hidden behind the larger mausoleums. My shift started at 8 at night and ended at 6 in the morning. The routine was simple. Make four rounds during the night, one every two hours, walking the main paths of the cemetery with my flashlight and my radio. The rest of the time I stayed in the tower, watching it. with night vision binoculars and monitoring motion sensors installed at certain points around the perimeter. The company also assigned me a weapon, a 9mm pistol. Although in all my years on the job, I'd never had to use it against a person. The first night Thursday, March 16th, 2017,

Starting point is 00:05:49 everything happened normally. It was cold, like it often is in the desert at night, even in spring. The sky was clear and the nearly full moon lit the cemetery with a silvery bright, casting shadows of crosses and stone angels onto the sand like skeletal fingers. I did my rounds with no issues. I heard coyotes howling far away toward the mountains, and at one point a freight train passed along the tracks that run parallel to the cemetery, about 200 meters away. The metallic rumble of the cars stayed with me for several minutes,

Starting point is 00:06:23 and then the silence swallowed everything again. It was during my second round around midnight when I found the first dead animal, It was near one of the oldest mausoleums, the Mendoza families, a graystone building with columns and a dome-like roof. At first I thought it was a stray dog, but when I got closer with my flashlight, I saw it was a coyote, a large one, around 30 kilos. It was lying in a pool of dark blood that had soaked into the sand. The strange part was the way it had died.

Starting point is 00:06:55 Its neck was twisted at an impossible angle, like someone or something, had snapped its head around with savage force. Its ribs were broken too, pushing up through torn skin. But what disturbed me most was that there were no signs of a struggle, no drag marks, no tracks from other animals around it. The coyote was simply there, as if it had fallen from the sky and shattered on the ground. I took a few photos with my phone and reported the find over the radio to my supervisor. He told me it was probably hit by a vehicle and that some Joker had tossed it inside the cemetery to mess with me. His explanation didn't fully convince me, but I didn't have a better one either. I kept going on my round, and when I got back to the tower, I logged the

Starting point is 00:07:41 incident in the record book. The rest of the night went by without further problems, although I'll admit that every time I looked toward the Mendoza mausoleum, a strange discomfort crept over me. Like someone was watching me from the darkness. The second night, Friday, March 17th, things started to be getting truly weird. I showed up to my shift more alert than usual. I hadn't slept well during the day because I couldn't get the dead coyote out of my head. Something about that scene didn't fit, and my instincts told me I needed to pay closer attention. I made my first round at 10 p.m., and everything seemed in order. The motion sensors hadn't flagged anything unusual, and the cemetery stayed silent. But when I returned to the tower and sat down to drink coffee, I started hearing a strange

Starting point is 00:08:29 sound. At first I thought it was the wind slipping through cracks in the mausoleums, a high continuous whistle that seemed high, continuous whistle that seemed to come from everywhere at once. But soon I realized it wasn't exactly a whistle. It was more like a moan, a low, guttural wail that rose and fell in intensity, like someone was suffering but trying to hold back the pain. I grabbed the night vision binoculars and swept the cemetery. I didn't see anything out of play. The graves were still, the shadows unmoving. Even so the sound continued, and now it seemed closer, as if it were slowly approaching my tower. I climbed down with my flashlight in one hand and my pistol in the other. My heart was pounding fast, but I tried to control my breathing and stay calm.

Starting point is 00:09:19 I walked toward the area where I thought the sound was coming from, near the ruined chapel. The moan shifted into something more like a deep resonant growl that seemed to make the air vibrate around me. I shined my light into the chapel through the broken windows. Inside there was nothing, just debris and piles of rotted wood. But when I moved around the building, I saw something that froze my blood. There were three dead coyotes, arranged in a perfect line in front of the chapel's back door. All three had their spines broken the same way as the one I found the night before. Their bodies were twisted into unnatural poses like marionettes whose strings had been cut. And the worst part, they were still warm.

Starting point is 00:10:03 I nudged one with the tip of my boot and felt heat coming off its fur. They'd been killed very recently, maybe minutes before I arrived. I backed away immediately and called my supervisor again. This time he sounded more concerned. He asked if I'd seen anyone, if I'd heard vehicles or voices. I told him no, just that strange moan. He ordered me to return to the tower and wait while they sent a police patrol to check the area. I obeyed, but as I walked back I felt a presence behind me.

Starting point is 00:10:35 It wasn't something I could see or hear clearly, but a visceral certainty. Something was following me, staying just outside the reach of my flashlight. I reached the tower and climbed up as fast as I could, closing the metal hatch behind me. From above with the binoculars I tried to spot whatever had followed me, and then I saw it, or at least I think I did, because even now I'm not completely sure my eyes weren't deceiving me. Near one of the farthest mausoleums at the cemetery's northern edge, there was a figure standing upright. It was tall, far taller than any man I'd ever seen. I estimated it was at least eight feet tall. It stood motionless with long arms hanging at its sides.

Starting point is 00:11:20 Even through night vision, I could tell it was covered in something that looked like dark fur, but what unsettled me most was its posture. It wasn't hunched like an animal. It stood upright like a human, but with proportions that weren't entirely human. The arms were too long, the legs too muscular, and the head had an elongated shape that ended in a prominent snout. I stayed frozen staring at it. It didn't move.

Starting point is 00:11:46 It just stood there, as if it knew I was watching and didn't care. A chill ran down my spine when I saw its head slowly turned toward me. Through the binoculars I saw two bright points where its eyes should have been, reflecting the weak moonlight with a sickly yellow shine. We stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, though it was probably only seconds. Then without warning, the creature dropped to all fours and vanished behind the mausoleum with a speed that made no sense. I lowered the binoculars with shaking hands.

Starting point is 00:12:17 My radio crackled with static. and then I heard my supervisor's voice asking if I was still there. I answered in a trembling voice that, yes, I was fine, but I'd seen something. He asked me to describe what I saw. When I tried to explain, I realized how ridiculous it sounded, a giant animal walking on two legs with glowing eyes and dark fur. He told me it was probably a bear, that sometimes they came down from the mountains looking for food,

Starting point is 00:12:48 but I knew it wasn't a bear. I've lived in this region my whole life, and I've seen bears. What I saw that night wasn't a bear. The patrol arrived about 20 minutes later. Two officers searched the cemetery with powerful flashlights and tracking dogs. They found the dead coyotes and took pictures, but they didn't find footprints or any clear sign that someone had been there. One officer told me it might have been a mountain lion

Starting point is 00:13:14 since they sometimes attacked and left prey with similar injuries. I didn't argue, but deep down I knew it was. wasn't a mountain lion either. Mountain lions don't kill for sport, and they definitely don't line up their victims like offerings in front of a ruined chapel. The officers left around 3 a.m. and I was alone again. I spent the rest of the night inside the tower not daring to go down and do my rounds. Every time I looked out into the cemetery, I felt those yellow eyes were still there, watching me from somewhere hidden among the shadows. Dawn couldn't come fast enough. Saturday, March 18th was supposed to be my last night at San Rafael. My supervisor told me I could take a few days off

Starting point is 00:13:56 after the scare, but something inside me didn't want to leave it like that. I needed to know what I'd seen. What was killing animals in such a brutal way? So I went back that night, only this time I was better prepared. Besides the pistol, I brought a shotgun a friend lent me, loaded with high-calibre shells. I also carried a motion sensor camera and installed it near the mausoleum where I'd seen the creature the night before. The night started out similar to the previous ones. It was cold, the sky was clean, and the full moon washed the desert in a ghostly glow. I did my first round at 9 p.m., checking every corner more carefully than ever. I didn't find anything strange. The dead coyotes had already been removed by animal control during the day, and the ground where they'd been

Starting point is 00:14:47 had been swept clean by the wind, erasing any trace of what happened. Around 11 p.m., the motion sensors triggered. I checked the monitor in the tower and saw the alert came from the northern sector, near the perimeter wall. I grabbed the shotgun and went down, moving cautiously toward the flagged area. The air was completely still. No hint of wind, which was unusual for that time of year. As I walked, I began noticing a strange smell, a mix of sulfur and something else, something organic and repulsive, like rotten meat mixed with animal urine.

Starting point is 00:15:23 I reached the wall, and what I saw took my breath away. There were claw marks carved into the stone, deep grooves running from the ground all the way to the top of the wall. They were fresh. The stone still showed the pale color of newly exposed rock. Whatever made them had incredible strength. I tried to measure the spacing between the grooves and realized only something with fingers longer than six inches could have left those marks. My radio started hissing with static. At first I thought it was typical interference, but the static took on a rhythmic pattern, almost like heavy breathing.

Starting point is 00:16:00 I turned up the volume and listened closely. It was, without a doubt, a deep harsh breathing sound, like something was panting on the other side of the transmission. That was impossible. Our radios were on a private frequency. No one else was supposed to be on that channel. I turned the radio off and the sound cut out, but it was replaced by something worse. I heard footsteps behind me.

Starting point is 00:16:24 They weren't bootsteps on sand. They were heavier, like rocks being crushed under an enormous weight. I spun with the shotgun aimed toward the source of the noise, but I didn't see anything. The footsteps continued circling me, drawing a tightening loop. It was like the thing knew. exactly where I was and was playing with me, staying just outside my line of sight. I began backing toward the tower with the shotgun up, constantly turning so I wouldn't give my back

Starting point is 00:16:52 to any direction. The footsteps stayed with me at the same distance, always out of view. When I reached the base of the tower, the sound stopped dead. The silence that followed was total, so deep I could hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. I climbed the metal ladder at full speed, my boot slamming against the rungs. Just as I reached the platform and was about to close the hatch, I heard a roar that didn't belong to this world. I don't have words that do it justice. It was a mix of a wolf howl, a lion's roar, and a human scream, all amplified to a deafening volume. The sound spread across the entire cemetery, making the chapel's broken windows vibrate and causing chunks of stone to break loose from the oldest mausoleums. I slammed the hatch shut

Starting point is 00:17:41 and secured it with the safety latch. From the observation window, I searched desperately with the binoculars for the source of the roar, and then I saw it again. This time it was much closer, less than 30 meters away, standing beside the entrance to the Mendoza mausoleum.

Starting point is 00:17:59 The moonlight lit it fully, and I could see it with terrifying clarity. It stood at least eight feet tall when it rose up on its hind legs. Its body was enormous, with muscles visible beneath dark feet, fur that looked almost black under the moon. Its arms were grotesquely long, nearly reaching its knees, and ended in hands that were a horrible mix of human and beast. It had five fingers like a person,

Starting point is 00:18:24 but each finger was twice the normal length and ended in a curved claw at least four inches long. Its legs were digitigrate like a wolf's, bending backward at the knees and ending in massive paws with claws that dug into the sand. But what terrified me most was its head. It had had the general shape of a wolf with a long snout full of teeth that gleamed like polished ivory in the moonlight. And still there was something in the structure of the skull that looked unsettlingly human. The forehead was more pronounced than it should have been on a wolf. When it opened its mouth to roar again, I saw its tongue was long and dark, almost black, but its eyes. Its eyes were what disturbed me the most. They weren't animal eyes. There was intelligence there, a malevolent awareness

Starting point is 00:19:11 staring directly at me, evaluating me, judging me. The creature took one step toward the tower, then another. It moved with a horrible grace. Every muscle coordinated perfectly despite its massive size. When it reached the foot of the tower, it stopped and raised its head, looking straight at me through the window. Our eyes met, and in that instant I knew with absolute certainty that this thing had killed before,

Starting point is 00:19:36 that it had hunted humans, and that I was its next prey. I aimed the shotgun through the firing slit of the tower and fired. The blast was deafening in the tight space, and the flash lit up the night for a second. The creature moved with impossible speed and dodged the shot by inches. I fired again and then a third time, but it was like trying to hit a ghost. It slid through shadows with an agility that mocked the laws of physics. Then without warning, it jumped, just not toward me. It leaped upward onto the roof of a nearby mausoleum.

Starting point is 00:20:11 It landed on the marble with an impact that made the ancient stone crack, and from there it jumped again, this time straight toward my tower. It grabbed the platform with its front claws, shaking the metal structure violently. I fell backward and slammed my head against the metal wall. The creature began climbing up the outside of the tower. I could hear its claws ripping at the metal, a sharp horrifying screech that made me clench my teeth. The entire tower vibrated with each movement. I lifted the shotgun and aimed at the ceiling, waiting for its claws to punch through the metal and yank me out. But instead it started pounding.

Starting point is 00:20:50 And it wasn't pounding at random. It hit with deliberate rhythmic blows, like it was measuring the structure's resistance. Each impact boomed like thunder, and my ears rang. Some ceiling panels began bending inward, and I watched the weld start to give under the pressure. I knew that if it kept going sooner or later it would tear a hole. hole big enough to reach me. I reloaded the shotgun and fired through the roof, emptying all the shells in a desperate burst. The shots tore through the metal and vanished into the night. I heard a howl. I don't know if it was pain or rage. And then the weight on the tower disappeared. I looked

Starting point is 00:21:28 out the window and saw the creature running away on all fours toward the cemetery's northern wall. When it reached it, it simply leaped over, and the darkness of the desert swallowed it whole. stayed in the tower for the next four hours, trembling with the empty shotgun in my hands, waiting for it to come back. But it didn't. When the first hints of dawn began to paint the sky, I climbed down with shaking legs. The cemetery looked calm under the pink morning light, like nothing had happened. But when I inspected the tower, I saw the marks it left. The roof was dented in several spots, with deep claw grooves carved into the metal. Some panels were nearly torn loose. I went to the northern wall and found footprints. They weren't wolf prints or

Starting point is 00:22:16 bear prints. They were something in between. Five toes clearly marked, with claws that sank deep into the soil. I placed my hand over one print, and it was nearly twice as large as my open palm. The tracks led into the desert, fading among rocks and brush. I called my supervisor and told him everything. This time I didn't soften the story or try to make it sound more logical. I told him exactly what I saw, a creature half-man and half-wolf, moving like nothing I'd ever seen, and that it had tried to get into my tower. There was a long silence on the other end. Finally, he told me to write up the report and take the rest of the week off.

Starting point is 00:22:56 That was the last time I worked at San Rafael's cemetery. I quit that contract and asked to be assigned elsewhere. The company never made public what happened, and the official reports only mention wild animal activity in the area. The motion sensor camera I had installed never produced footage. When I went back to retrieve it the next day, I discovered it was completely destroyed, as if something had crushed it with brutal force.

Starting point is 00:23:22 In the months that followed, I did my own investigation. I talked to older people in the area, elders who had lived near the Franklin Mountains their whole lives, and I discovered that the El Paso Warwolf stories weren't recent. For decades, there had been sporadic sightings of a similar creature the border region. The Native Americans in the area had legends about a guardian spirit that took the shape of a giant wolf to protect sacred places. Mexicans talked about the Nahul, a sorcerer capable of transforming into an animal, and cowboys in the 19th century reported

Starting point is 00:23:57 encounters with what they called the wolf of a beast that hunted livestock and at times attacked solitary travelers. I found archived police reports that mentioned animal attacks with injuries consistent with what I had seen. Broken spines, twisted bodies, no signs of a struggle. There were even a few unsolved cases of people disappearing in the area. Hikers and border workers who simply vanished without a trace, except for a few torn bloodstained pieces of clothing. The most unsettling thing was finding a newspaper article from 1987.

Starting point is 00:24:31 It talked about a security guard who worked at a facility near the mountains and reported being attacked by an unidentified creature. The man survived, but was so traumatized he ended up committed to a psychiatric hospital. In the interview they did after he recovered, he described exactly what I saw, a huge animal walking on two legs with intelligent eyes and supernatural strength. I also discovered something about San Rafael's cemetery that no one had told me before. It turns out it wasn't just a family cemetery. In the 19th century, before the Spanish families built their mausoleums,

Starting point is 00:25:07 That place had been used by the Mescalero Indians as a ceremonial site. They buried their shamans there, convinced it was a point of power where the world of the living and the world of spirits touched. When the Spanish settlers arrived and desecrated the site by building on top of it, the Mescaleros laid a curse, promising that a spiritual guardian would protect the place forever. I don't know if I believe in curses or guardian spirits. I'm a practical man, raised in the Catholic faith. who has always trusted what I can see and touch. But what I saw those three nights in March 2017

Starting point is 00:25:43 can't be explained by science or reason. It was something that shouldn't exist, something that defies what we think we know about the natural world. And yet, it exists. I saw it with my own eyes. I felt its presence. I heard its roars. And I carry the psychological scars of that encounter to this day.

Starting point is 00:26:04 Sometimes when I work night shifts in other places, I catch myself staring into the shadows, wondering if it's there, watching me. When I hear a coyote howl in the distance, my body tenses by instinct, bracing for the worst. I've tried to convince myself it was a one-time thing that I had the bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But deep in my heart I know the truth. The El Paso werewolf is real, and it isn't alone. Over the years I've heard similar accounts from other people who work along the border,

Starting point is 00:26:38 in remote parts of the desert where civilization still hasn't fully arrived. There are places in this world that don't belong to us. Places protected by forces we don't understand and don't want to be understood. San Rafael's cemetery is still there, still watched by night guards who probably have no idea what they're truly guarding. The real estate company eventually abandoned its plans to turn it into a memorial park, The site remains in its neglect forgotten by almost everyone, except those who know the truth. I still live in El Paso.

Starting point is 00:27:12 I changed lines of work and now do daytime security in shopping centers and office buildings, where the only threats are shoplifters and angry employees. I avoid areas near the Franklin Mountains, especially at night. And every time I see the full moon rising over the desert, I close my curtains and stay inside. It's been almost eight years since that night, and I still can't forget those yellow eyes staring at me through my tower window. I can't erase the sound of its claws scraping the metal, or the smell of sulfur and death coming off its body. Some nights I wake up drenched in sweat, convinced I hear heavy footsteps circling my house, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. The people around me don't know any of this.

Starting point is 00:27:56 My family thinks I simply got tired of the night shift. My friends think I finally wanted something more stable. No one knows there's something waiting in the desert. Something that's been there for centuries. Long before we arrived with our cities and our lights. Something that has no intention of leaving. If you ever have to drive on lonely roads near El Paso, especially on nights with a full moon,

Starting point is 00:28:20 stay in well-lit areas. Don't stop in abandoned places. Don't go investigating strange sounds coming from the desert. And if you ever see a tall, dark figure moving through the shadows, with eyes that glow like embers in the night, don't stay to find out what it is. Start the vehicle and get away as fast as you can. Because the El Paso werewolf is not a legend. It's not a story to scare tourists. It's a reality that stalks the edges of our civilized world, reminding us that there are things in this universe beyond our understanding,

Starting point is 00:28:54 things that were here long before us, and that we're here long before us. will still exist long after we're gone. I was lucky. I survived the encounter, but not everyone has had that same luck, and I can't help wondering how many people have disappeared in that desert over the years. How many bodies were never found. How many families are still waiting for answers that will never come.

Starting point is 00:29:18 The desert guards its secrets fiercely, and the El Paso werewolf is one of the darkest and most terrible of them all. Every time I think about that creature, about its impossible strength and its calculating intelligence, I get chills. It wasn't simply an animal driven by instinct. There was intention in what it did. There was purpose in the way it stalked me, testing my defenses, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And the most terrifying thing of all is that I feel like I haven't seen the last of it. Sometimes when I'm alone in the dark, I get the sense it's still watching.

Starting point is 00:29:55 me, waiting, reminding me that our confrontation isn't truly over, that maybe one day our paths will cross again. And when that day comes, I'm not sure I'll be as lucky as I was the last time. Until then, I live with this knowledge. With this burden, I can't tell anyone because no one would believe me. I live knowing there are real monsters in this world, not the ones from movies or books, but creatures of flesh and blood that inhabit the dark forgotten corners of our planet. And as humanity keeps expanding, pushing deeper into wild territory. These encounters will become more frequent. The El Paso werewolf isn't unique. It's only one among many. And someday when we've pushed too far, when we've invaded too many sacred places and desecrated too many ancient lands,

Starting point is 00:30:44 these creatures will stop hiding. They'll stop stalking from the shadows. And then the world will discover that monsters were never just legends. They were warnings. And if you've made it this far listening to my story, I'm asking you to do something for me. Subscribe to this channel, turn on the notification bell, and share this story with others. Not necessarily so they'll believe me, but so they'll be careful. So they'll know there are places in this world we shouldn't go, especially when night falls and the full moon lights up the desert. Leave your comment and tell me if you've experienced something similar.

Starting point is 00:31:20 If you've seen something you can't explain. Maybe together we can start to understand what's really stalking the darkness. And maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to protect ourselves from what's coming.

Horror Stories - The Werewolf of El Paso: The Untold Account of a Border Watchman (2017)

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