MATAQUESCUINTLA, Guatemala _ Topacio Reynoso was so precocious her mother sometimes joked she was an extraterrestrial.
A farmer's daughter from a remote village in Guatemala reachable by a rugged mountain pass, she was playing perfect Metallica riffs on the guitar by age 12. She won beauty contests, filled notebooks with pages of heady poetry and moved through life with a fearlessness that made her parents proud _ if also nervous.
At 14, she devoted herself to opposing construction of a large silver mine planned for a town nearby.
Topacio formed her own anti-mining youth group, wrote protest songs and toured the country talking about the environmental risks she believed the mine posed to her community. During a school trip to Guatemala's capital, she led her classmates in refusing the small welcome gifts from a congressman who supported the mine. Then she heckled him so mercilessly that he fled the meeting.
The teenager's efforts were not popular with everyone. Although some in the community worried chemicals used at the mine might contaminate nearby rivers, threatening the corn and coffee fields that have long been the region's lifeblood, others said it would bring needed jobs and tax revenue. The community was split and violence was coming.
Topacio's father, Alex, knew that speaking out could put the family in peril. Latin America is the most dangerous region in the world for environmental activists, with at least 120 killed in 2016 alone, according to the nonprofit Global Witness.
But Topacio convinced him that it wasn't a choice to oppose the mine, that it was an obligation: His father had left him land that was uncontaminated; it was up to him to pass on clean land to his kids.
He threw himself alongside his daughter into the fight.
These days, when he touches the bullet scars on his body or gazes at the memorial to Topacio that the family has erected on the porch, he wonders whether his decision was right.
