Mia Campos, a 16-year-old girl who was pregnant, disappeared in Georgia. Sadly, she has been found dead.
Mia was expecting her first baby, due in the fall. People got worried when she left her parents’ home with someone they didn’t know on July 14th and didn’t come back.
The police in Gwinnett County, Georgia received a report early on July 15th that her body was found in a wooded area near the road.
According to PEOPLE magazine, a family member used a phone app to find Mia’s body. The medical examiner later confirmed that she was killed.
\Last Wednesday, police arrested Mia’s ex-boyfriend, Jesus Monroy, for lying to them. But they haven’t said he killed Mia.
Campos’s family says that Monroy is the father of the baby Mia was going to have before she died. According to 11 Alive, Mia’s parents, Miriam Zarate and Edward Campos, found their daughter’s body just minutes from their house.
“I found my daughter lying face-down,” Edward said.
“It was really tough. I knew something was wrong – her lips, her bleeding nose.”
He added: “We somehow ended up there, and because I didn’t have a flashlight, I just used my phone. Then I said, ‘She’s right there.’ It just broke my heart. Thank God that I found her.”
As per reports, Mia was the youngest of five siblings. Her unborn child, a boy, was expected to be born in September. She had planned to name him Sebastian.
Miriam and Edward told Fox 5 that Monroy was with them for two days after Mia’s death.
“We keep praying every night and that’s why he came with his parents. That’s why I was shocked when they sent me the notice. I was like, ‘Wow,’” Edward explained.
We sincerely hope the person responsible for Mia’s murder is found and apprehended.
I Came Home from Vacation to Find a Huge Hole Dug in My Backyard – I Wanted to Call the Cops until I Saw What Was at the Bottom
When I cut short our vacation due to Karen falling ill, the last thing I expected was to find a massive hole in our backyard upon returning home. Initially alarmed, I hesitated when I spotted a shovel inside, leading me into an unexpected adventure involving buried treasure, newfound friendship, and lessons in life’s true values.
Karen and I rushed back from the beach early after she fell ill. Exhausted but wary, I decided to check the house’s perimeter before settling in. That’s when I stumbled upon the gaping pit in our lawn.
“What’s this?” I muttered, approaching cautiously.
At the bottom, amid scattered debris, lay a shovel. My first instinct was to call the police, but then I considered the possibility that the digger might return, knowing we were supposed to be away.
Turning to Karen, who looked unwell, I suggested keeping the car hidden in the garage to maintain the appearance of absence.
As night descended, I kept vigil by a window, watching and waiting. Just as I was about to give up, I spotted a shadow vaulting over our fence.
Heart pounding, I ventured out with my phone ready to call the authorities. Approaching the pit, I heard the clink of metal on earth.
“Hey!” I exclaimed, shining my phone’s light into the hole. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The figure looked up, squinting. My jaw dropped—it was George, the previous owner of our house.
“Frank?” he stammered, equally surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here, remember?” I retorted. “What are you doing in my yard in the middle of the night?”
George climbed out, looking sheepish. “I can explain. Just… please don’t involve the police.”
Arms folded, I demanded an explanation.
“My grandfather owned this place,” George began, “and I recently discovered he hid something valuable here. I thought I’d dig it up while you were away.”
“You broke into my yard to hunt for treasure?” I couldn’t believe it.
“I know how it sounds,” George pleaded, “but it’s true. Help me dig, and we’ll split whatever we find.”
Despite my better judgment, I agreed. Over hours of digging, we shared stories, George revealing his hardships—a lost job and his wife’s illness. His hope for this treasure to change their lives touched me.
As dawn approached, our optimism dwindled with each shovel of dirt revealing nothing but rocks and roots.
“I was so sure…” George’s disappointment was palpable.
Offering a ride home, we filled the pit and drove to his house, where his wife, Margaret, greeted us anxiously.
“George! Where have you been?” Margaret exclaimed, eyeing me curiously.
Explaining the situation, George’s dream of buried treasure was deflated by Margaret’s reality check.
“My grandfather’s tales were just that—stories,” she gently reminded him.
Apologizing, George and Margaret offered to repair our yard. I declined, suggesting they join us for dinner instead.
Driving home, I shared the night’s escapade with Karen, who teased me about my unusual night with a stranger. Reflecting on our conversation, I proposed inviting George and Margaret for dinner—an unexpected outcome from a night of digging for imaginary treasure.
As I assessed the yard in daylight, I realized life’s treasures aren’t always what we seek but the connections we forge along the way.
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