Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - The Obsession That Ended in Tragedy The Murder of Jessica Méndez Iglesias in Spain PART4 #68

Episode Date: January 23, 2026

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #truecrime #spanishmurdercase #justiceforjessica #realhorrorstory #darktruth After the trial concludes, the story of Jessica Méndez Iglesias continues to echo through Spain. The nation watched as justice was delivered, but no verdict could heal the pain left behind. In this final part, we see the aftermath — how Jessica’s loved ones fight to keep her memory alive and how her case became a warning about the devastating effects of obsession, manipulation, and emotional abuse. The story closes not with peace, but with a reminder that real horror doesn’t always come from monsters — sometimes, it comes from those we once trusted the most. horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, truecrime, realhorrorstory, spanishcrime, femicidecase, justiceforjessica, tragicending, obsessioncrime, realcasefile, darkreality, aftermathstory, psychologicalthriller, hauntingtruth, chillingending, crimeawareness

It all started with something that seemed small, almost insignificant, those little moments that people tend to brush off as coincidences. But looking back, everyone who knew Jessica could tell that what was happening around her wasn't normal at all. Things began to take a darker turn in 2019, right when she started dating Ismail. That's when everything that had been quietly building up suddenly exploded into something she couldn't ignore anymore. Jessica had mentioned a few times that her neighbor, Jose, was acting strange. It wasn't just the typical awkward friendliness, it was the kind of attention that makes your skin crawl. She told Ismail about how uncomfortable it made her, how she constantly felt like someone was watching her. In the early days of their relationship, she'd receive endless calls from

an unknown number. She didn't even bother picking up anymore because, deep down, she already knew who it was. It's him, she told this mile. I know it's him. It's not the first time. The tension in her voice said more than her words ever could. She even went to her parents and asked them to make sure Jose didn't come over anymore. Please, I don't want him in the house, she said. It makes me feel sick. It wasn't a whim or a misunderstanding, it was fear. Pure, exhausting fear. Ismail's statements about all this were later backed up by Jessica's family. Her brother talked about how she had installed security cameras after catching Jose lurking around their house.

One time, he even found him hiding behind some vines near the property. It was straight out of a horror movie, except this was their real life. Sheila, Jessica's sister, and their parents also confirmed what Borja, Jessica's brother, said. They explained that whenever they caught Jose spying, he would bolt away, sprinting like a guilty man caught red-handed. Alonso and Maria, Jessica's parents, said that this behavior wasn't new at all. It had been going on for years, which was why they'd cut ties with the Siren family way back in 2015. It wasn't just an uncomfortable neighborhood tension, it was something darker, more invasive. During the trial, the jury also heard

from two neighbors, members of the same family, who confirmed that Jose had been circling around Jessica's home and her family's property for years. One of them said that his behavior was so creepy that she had started changing her own habits to protect herself. She began closing her bathroom blinds completely when showering because she was terrified that Jose might be spying on her too. That's how unsettling he was. Then there was Belinda, the woman who had witnessed the crash that would later take Jessica's life. Her testimony was chilling. She described how she had approached Jose right after the collision to check if he was okay. Did you fall asleep? Are you hurt? She asked him. He just looked at her, emotionless, and said no. What struck her most was how calm he seemed,

how detached. She told the court that he wasn't nervous at all, not even slightly shaken, just cold, distant and analytical. She even joked, half seriously, does your chest hurt? Maybe it was a little heart attack. But Jose shook his head. No, no, I'm fine, he replied. Belinda was there when Borja, Jessica's brother, arrived at the scene and ran straight to Jose, shouting, what did you do to my sister? It was in that exact moment that Belinda realized the awful truth, that Jose knew the woman and in the wrecked car. He hadn't said a word about it to anyone. He hadn't even tried to help or call her family. When we were trying to contact them, Belinda testified, he didn't say, oh, yes, I know her, she's my neighbor. Nothing. He didn't even pretend to help. She also mentioned how she and other

witnesses found repair shop receipts inside Jessica's car and used the phone number on them to reach the mechanics. It was those workers who finally notified Jessica's loved ones. Another witness at the scene confirmed that Jose appeared disturbingly calm, saying over and over that the other car had just come at him, as if it were Jessica's fault. Civil Guard traffic officers who spoke with Jose Wright after the crash testified that he initially denied knowing Jessica. He also denied falling asleep at the wheel, a claim that directly contradicted the version his defense would later present. They made him take drug and alcohol tests, both of which came back negative. The officers detailed every step of their investigation, they examined the vehicles, the crash

site, recreated the scene, and ran simulations to determine exactly how it had happened. Their conclusion left no room for doubt, Jose was driving at 81 kilometers per hour on the main road and one second before impact, turned sharply to the right, directly toward Jessica's car. Her vehicle was stopped perpendicular to the road, waiting to merge onto the highway. The forensic experts were clear, Jose had the space, time, and visibility to avoid the crash. He could have braked, he could have swerved, but he didn't. Not even an attempt. There were no skid marks, no signs of hesitation. That silence in the evening. That silence in the asphalt said everything. Mechanical or electrical failure. Completely ruled out. His car was fine.

It wasn't a malfunction, it was a choice. The defense tried to counter this mountain of evidence by calling Jose's mother and sister to the stand. They denied everything. According to them, there had never been any fights or falling outs between the two families. They said the Mendez family never told them that Jose was spying on Jessica. They painted a picture of an innocent man misunderstood by everyone. But the evidence told a very different story. On Friday, March 15, 24, the last day of the trial, Jose stood up and made a brief statement. His voice was low, controlled, maybe even rehearsed. He said he'd lost control of his car and regretted ever getting behind the wheel that day. He offered his condolences to Jessica's family and muttered a quick apology.

It sounded hollow. When he sat down, the courtroom was silent. Everyone could feel the weight of the moment. After weeks of testimonies, arguments, and raw emotion, the trial was finally coming to an end. The judge announced that jury deliberations would begin the following Monday, March 18th. But before that, on Sunday, March 17th, something remarkable happened. Dozens of people gathered for a silent march,

a two-kilometer walk from the Barrosa Natural Park to the intersection where Jessica's life had been stolen. The crowd moved slowly, holding candles, banners, and photos of her smiling face. It wasn't just grief in the air, it was anger, heartbreak, and the unspoken unity of a community demanding justice. At the crash site,

they read a moving manifesto written in Jessica. Jessica's honor. The words carried through the cold air, reaching everyone present. It reminded them that the day Jose decided to end Jessica's life, he destroyed many others too, her family, her friends, her boyfriend, all left shattered. The manifesto called out gender violence directly, naming the toxic masculinity and sense of superiority that had led Jose to believe he had the right to decide over Jessica's life. He thought he owned her, one line read, and when she refused to him, he decided that if she wouldn't be his, she wouldn't be anyone's. It was the same phrase Ismail remembered Jose saying to Jessica years earlier, the same phrase that haunted him every night.

The document didn't just mourn, it raged. It demanded zero tolerance for sexist attitudes, for the everyday machismo that breeds monsters like Jose. The people who gathered that they weren't just honoring Jessica, they were fighting for every woman who had been silenced, every woman who had felt unsafe walking home, every woman whose complaints had been ignored until it was too late. When the march ended, the crowd stood still for a full minute of silence. Not a single word, just the wind rustling the banners that bore her name. The next day, Monday, March 18th, the jury reconvened.

Twelve long hours of deliberation later, the verdict was announced. Jose Carlos Iron Iglesias was found guilty of murder. The jury concluded that he had acted out of gender-based hatred, that his motive was fueled by rejection and wounded pride. The court found it proven that he had been stalking and monitoring Jessica for years, and that his behavior intensified when she began her relationship with Ismail. The jury's statement was explicit, Jose's obsession, jealousy, and control issues were all rooted in a sense of male entitlement.

That was his motive, and Jessica had paid the price. In early April, the Pontavetra court sentenced him to 22 years in prison. He was also forbidden from approaching Jessica's family or Ismail within 500 meters for the next 32 years. The ruling was detailed, leaving no room for ambiguity. It stated that on the morning of March 17, 2022, at approximately 9.25 a.m., Jose had been driving with the clear intention of killing Jessica. He deliberately steered his car toward hers. knowing exactly what he was doing.

It wasn't reckless, it was calculated. The court emphasized that he had consciously chosen the method, ensuring the most fatal outcome possible. The verdict described it as an act committed with premeditation and cruelty, a murder carried out with malice and a complete lack of remorse. They also took into account the aggravating factor of gender-based violence. Jose's motive wasn't random, it was driven by rejection and by a misogynistic belief that Jessica had humiliated him simply by saying no.

That detail, that core truth, turned this from a simple homicide into something far more significant, a statement about the ongoing epidemic of violence against women. When the sentence was read, Ismail sat in the courtroom, silent but trembling. Relief washed over him, but it was mixed with unbearable pain. Nothing could bring Jessica back. Justice was something, Yes, but it wasn't enough. She had plans, dreams, a future they were supposed to build together. They had talked about moving in, maybe starting a family. All of that was gone, stolen in a single

violent moment by a man who couldn't handle rejection. Jessica Mendez Iglesias became one of the 34 women killed in Spain in 2022 as a result of gender-based violence outside of a romantic relationship. 34 lives, each with a story, a family, a future, erased by men who thought they had the right to control them. What made these cases even more tragic was that in most of them, there had been no previous formal complaints. That silence, that gap between fear and action, showed just how much still needed to change. Society, institutions, and communities needed to do more, not just to punish, but to prevent. To listen when women spoke up. To act before tragedy struck. Jessica's case hit the nation hard. It became a symbol, not just of loss, but of resistance.

Her story was repeated in vigils, on television, in schools, in protests. People carried her name on banners and whispered it at marches. Her smile became a reminder of what was stolen, but also of what needed to be protected. Every year, on March 17th, her friends and family still gather at that same intersection, the place where her life ended, but also where her legacy began. There, they light candles and lay down flowers. They tell stories about her laugh, her kindness, how she always helped everyone around her. They talk about how she used to sing while driving, how she always said good night to her parents no matter how late it was. For a moment, it feels like she's still there, like her energy refuses to fade.

Jose, on the other hand, spends his days behind bars, in a world that's a shadow of the one he once knew. He'll never again walk freely through the streets where he used to watch her, where he turned obsession into violence. 22 years might sound long, but for the people who loved Jessica, it will never be enough. The hole she left behind can't be measured in time or punishment. It's a wound that never fully closes. Still, every year, every March, every act of remembrance keeps her story alive.

It's a promise that her name won't be forgotten, that her death won't just fade into another statistic. The community keeps fighting, louder each time, for all the women who are still out there, afraid to speak up, hoping someone will believe them before it's too late. because Jessica's story isn't just about one woman and one monster. It's about all of us, about what happens when obsession is mistaken for love, when control hides behind kindness, when silence protects the wrong person. It's a warning, a lesson, and a plea all at once. Justice was finally served, but the real fight, the one for change, continues. And every time her name is spoken,

that fight grows stronger. The end.