You learn Salazar was born in Cuidad Juarez, Chihuahua, (where your grandfather was born), and he and his family grew up in El Paso where he also got his B.A. in Journalism from UTEP and became one of the very first Mexican-American investigative reporters at the El Paso Herald Post, where he worked hard writing about the police mistreatment of Mexicanos and the racist brutality that many Chicanos faced in Texas prisons.
You learn the man later moved to Santa Rosa, California where he worked for the San Francisco News and later became a staff writer for the Los Angeles Times, where he persuaded his editors to allow him to write a column that gave a voice to eastside Chicanos and the same campesinos that Cesar Chavez fought hard to support. He wrote an award-winning series of articles on the L.A. Latino community that gained him the respect and love of the Mexican-American people as well as Chavez himself.
You learn that at the time that Salazar was writing these columns and helping his community, he was the first Mexican-American writer to hold a staff position at a major American publication. What Salazar did was utilize his love for writing and his career for a social cause. He worked for his gente.
Then you watch in disbelief as your told by the narrator that on August 29, 1970, during a Mexican-American moratorium against the use of Mexican-Americans in Vietnam, Ruben Salazar was unjustly murdered by a Los Angeles County Deputy Tom Wilson. Wilson shot a 10-inch projectile at Salazarís head as he sat at the Silver Dollar cafÈ having lunch. Wilson was never charged although a coronerís panel ruled Salazarís death a homicide.