As 2026 begins, looking back, we must remember those who left us abruptly in 2025. Some men are made of different stuff, a stuff that withstands the salt air and the long nights in the police stations of southern Gran Canaria. Fermín Carlos was one of them. But on Thursday, October 16, 2025, at 12:09 a.m., as the sun beat down on the GC-500 highway, fate decided his journey would end on a straight stretch of road, one of those that deceive the eye with their brightness. Fortunately, the accident resulted in eight injuries, and they are gradually recovering from that tragic event.
Fermín was driving his wife's Mercedes, lost in thought. In a split second, the car veered into the oncoming lane and collided head-on with a bus heading towards Las Palmas, carrying twenty-four people. Death was swift, clean, and final, as is often the case in tragedies that come without warning. The twisted metal and the roar of the impact shattered the silence of Juan Grande, leaving behind a trail of injured people and an absence that will weigh heavily on those who knew him for a long time.
Despite the shadows cast over his final years in the profession, Fermín never lost the respect of his colleagues. In the streets and offices of Maspalomas, he will be remembered as a man who always had a ready salute and his uniform always in place. Those who shared shifts with him know that if he made mistakes or became entangled in legal proceedings that overwhelmed him, it was perhaps due to inadequate defense or because he was involved in operations too complex for one man to handle alone. Sometimes, the webs woven around us are stronger than the will of those who try to cut them.
It is a despicable act, one of those that flourish in the mire of the internet, to suggest that Fermín sought his own end. Those who floated that theory for a handful of clicks don't understand the value of family or the honor of a man who, despite everything, kept going. It's easy for cowards, hiding behind a screen, to invent dark motives for a tragedy. They spoke of suicide to earn a few cents, but those who know about the life and honor of an old policeman know that's a lie. The Civil Guard points to the sun, to a distraction, or to excessive speed; human reasons for a human end. There was no surrender, only the end of the road. Fermín died with his hands on the wheel, facing the road as he always faced life.
The one-kilometer stretch where the accident occurred is now clear. The ambulances have left, and traffic is flowing again amidst the dust and heat. But at the Maspalomas police station, today there is an empty seat and a silence that speaks of an officer who, with his strengths and weaknesses, earned the right to be remembered with the dignity of someone who fulfilled his duty until the road, that old enemy, decided that enough was enough.
