HEARTBREAKING FINAL CALL: Caroline Peña reached out to her best friend at exactly 1:35 PM. Minutes later, prosecutors say Amaya “Cookie” Diaz, Kitty Mia Diaz, and Kyandra Renee Faz confronted her. What Caroline wanted to say may forever remain unanswered
At 1:35 p.m. on June 25, 2026, Caroline “Caro” Peña made a phone call that would become one of the most poignant details in a case that shocked the border city of Del Rio, Texas. Her best friend of eight years, Christina Salinas, did not answer. Just minutes later, according to prosecutors, Peña was confronted by Amaya “Cookie” Diaz, Kitty Mia Diaz, and Kyandra Renee Faz in a violent altercation that left her with multiple stab wounds. Peña survived long enough to reach medical care and interact with loved ones, but the words she hoped to share in that final call may never be known, leaving a haunting void for those who loved her.
Peña, a 32-year-old mother of five, had spent the previous evening with Salinas, cooking sopa de fideo with one of her daughters. The two women shared a bond like sisters-in-law, checking in daily, often at dawn. Salinas could call Peña as early as 5:30 a.m., and she would answer. That missed afternoon call, placed just before the confrontation near East 10th Street, has become a symbol of what-ifs and lost opportunities. Salinas later told reporters she believes answering might have changed everything. “I feel like if I would have answered that call, honestly I would have been there with her,” she said. “It wouldn’t have gotten like that.”
The confrontation unfolded rapidly. Surveillance footage showed Peña arriving at a residence linked to Faz in her black pickup truck. Shortly afterward, the Diaz sisters arrived in a black Chrysler 300. Amaya “Cookie” Diaz allegedly approached with a knife and struck Peña in the back, with blood visible on her shirt. Kitty Diaz and Faz reportedly joined the assault. Peña was driven to Val Verde Regional Medical Center by her nephew, where she arrived around 2:10 p.m. conscious and able to speak. She was airlifted to San Antonio for emergency treatment but died around 9 p.m. from injuries including a punctured lung.
What Caroline wanted to say in that 1:35 p.m. call remains a mystery. Friends speculate it could have been a request for support, a warning, or simply a routine check-in before heading to the meeting that turned deadly. The women knew each other, and Peña had a reason for going to the residence, according to police statements. Community accounts from those close to the victim suggest a personal dispute, possibly involving accusations of theft related to drugs or money, though authorities have not confirmed a specific motive. The unanswered call now stands as the last potential outreach from Peña before the events escalated.
Salinas’s grief is raw and public. She shared that seeing images of Peña in a bloodstained pink shirt, recognized by her hairstyle and clothing, confirmed her worst fears. At the hospital, Salinas gave her friend a final kiss before the airlift. “It’s like a part of me got ripped out and that’s something I’m not going to get back,” she reflected. “No matter how much justice is being served, I still don’t have my friend here alive with me.” The two had been together the night before, moments of normalcy now treasured through shared Ring camera footage of Peña’s last visit to Salinas’s home.
Peña’s life was defined by devotion to her family and friends. A twin who became a mother young, she participated in programs supporting teen parents and helped others with everything from diapers to emotional encouragement. Friends Zelina Ochoa and Lupita Garza described her as generous to a fault, someone who would give her last possessions if needed. “She was born to be a mom,” Ochoa said, fighting tears. Peña’s five children, including two with autism, were her world. Her oldest son, nearly 17 and approaching graduation, represented a milestone she eagerly anticipated. A GoFundMe for the children highlights their immediate needs and the long road ahead without their mother.
The three suspects were arrested later that afternoon. Kitty and Amaya Diaz were taken into custody at a home where Kitty’s child was present. They had reportedly changed clothes. Faz was apprehended shortly after. Videos of the arrests, showing smiles and dismissive comments toward cameras, sparked additional outrage. Chief Ramirez called the demeanor callous. The case moved quickly to murder charges once Peña’s death was confirmed, with each woman held on $5 million bail. Surveillance from the pivotal residence, physical evidence, and witness statements formed the foundation.
New questions continue to arise about the exact circumstances of the confrontation and the content of that final call. The footage and timeline suggest Peña may have been seeking resolution or support related to the prior acquaintance with the group. Whatever she intended to tell Salinas, the opportunity vanished in the chaos that followed. Salinas has shared Ring videos and memories, trying to preserve the joy of their friendship amid the sorrow. “This is what I’m going to miss—you coming to my house and we would just eat, laugh, and chill,” she posted.
The tragedy has affected the entire Del Rio community. The attack occurred in broad daylight on a busy street, challenging residents’ sense of security. Friends insist Peña’s memory should center on her light—her laughs, hugs, and willingness to help—rather than the violence. “She brought so much light to so many of us,” Garza said. As the legal process advances, with potential additional charges, the unanswered call remains a painful symbol of finality.
Autopsy results confirmed the punctured lung as the fatal injury, despite Peña’s initial survival and medical efforts. This detail adds to the heartbreak, showing how the wounds continued their damage even after she was removed from the scene. The three accused face first-degree murder charges, and the investigation remains active. For Salinas and Peña’s circle, justice offers some measure of closure, but it cannot restore the conversations, support, or presence they lost.
What Caroline Peña wanted to say at 1:35 p.m. may forever remain unanswered, but her life spoke volumes through her actions and relationships. In the quiet moments after the headlines, her friends and family hold onto those memories while supporting her children through the unimaginable. The final call, though missed, echoes as a testament to the bonds that defined her and the profound loss felt by all who knew her. Del Rio mourns a mother, friend, and community member whose voice was silenced too soon, leaving questions that no investigation can fully resolve.
