At 6:42 on a Saturday morning, a cracked mirror slid from the back of Elena Ruiz’s garage and shattered against the concrete. The sound startled a flock of sparrows from the jacaranda tree overhead. Elena froze, broom in hand, surrounded by the remains of three decades: a rusted patio chair, boxes softened by a roof leak, a broken bookcase, and a treadmill that had become an expensive place to hang laundry.
