For Margaret Padilla, the reminders of her brother's death are everywhere. Since January, the Florida resident has been living in his Crofton townhouse, sleeping in his bedroom, cooking food in his kitchen and watching television on his couch. But the door to the room where police say he was found dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound is kept shut.
Anne Arundel County police say that Luis Padilla's death was a clear suicide. His sister is unconvinced of that.
Margaret Padilla hired a private investigator and has been gathering police documents, writing letters to public officials and researching police procedures in an effort to get police to take a closer look at her brother's case. Key evidence has been overlooked, she says, and she can't leave until her questions are answered.
"I want to get justice," said Margaret Padilla. "As long as it takes. If I have to be here 20 years, I'll be here 20 years."
Luis Padilla was a federal employee working for the Census Bureau, an avid salsa dancer and lifelong bachelor who also held a part-time job at a hotel in Bowie. On Jan. 5, he did not report for work at the hotel. Police were sent the next day to check on him at his two-bedroom apartment in the Wellfleet Mews community.
The first officer on the scene found the front door closed but unlocked. The home was neat, just as Luis Padilla kept it. As he shouted into the house to see if anyone was inside, the officer noticed that the door to the guest bedroom was closed.
Inside, the officer found the 51-year-old lying in bed, covered in blankets from the waist up. A silver handgun was in his right hand, and a note was taped to his chest.
"Do not save me," it read. "Luis."
Upon hearing the news, Margaret Padilla left her job and home in Orlando. She has since taken a new job here, working for a heart surgeon, and is in the process of selling the townhouse. But she does not plan to move back south.
Police say they sympathize with Padilla's grief. But they say all the evidence indicates a clear suicide and that they might never be able to answer her questions.
"We see her pain and her quest for answers, but in suicide cases we often can't give those answers," said Capt. David Waltemeyer, commander of the county police's criminal investigations division. "It's very common for [relatives] to have a difficult time accepting how their loved one died. All we can do is make sure we covered every base, and be as thorough as we can and try to provide the family with answers."
