Oak Lawn Woman Seeks Justice In Boyfriend's Hit-And-Run Death

OAK LAWN, IL — Almost three months after 42-year-old Juan Gonzales was struck and killed while riding his motorcycle to work, his fiancé is consumed by the thought of the other driver who did not stop to help him.

“I don’t understand how somebody can hit someone and keep going,” Eva Adames said. “It don’t make sense to me.”

It had already been a year of loss for the Oak Lawn couple. In February, Adames lost her father to COVID-19. Gonzales’s older brother is a COVID-19 long-hauler, and his father has been in and out of the hospital with various medical issues.

Adames and Gonzales didn’t need a piece of paper to prove their love for each other. Introduced 20 years ago by Adames’ brother, she and Gonzales were friends before they started dating. Marriage-shy, Adames had gone through a difficult divorce. In 2009, the hardworking couple moved in together, and Gonzales became a father-figure to Adames’ four children.

“He helped me out a lot,” Adames said. “I was taking care of my mom and dad. When we first started dating, my dad had a triple bypass. Juan was a good dad and provider. He was helping me raise my grandsons.”

The morning of April 21 started like any other day. Gonzales left the house at 5:15 a.m. for his job at a gasket manufacturer in Cicero on his beloved Indian motorcycle. Adames got ready for work at Circle K, where she was an assistant manager.

“I always tell him to be careful,” Adames said, still referring to Gonzalez in the present tense. “We always texted to let the other know when we arrived at work.”

At 5:51 a.m., she texted Juan to let him know she got to work: “I love you.” She reminded him to watch a news video. At 5:57 a.m., when she still hadn’t heard from him, she texted again: “Are you okay? Did you get my text, papi?”

“Usually I got a text back right away,” Adames recalled. “I didn’t hear from him. It just felt weird. I even told my boss. I said something is wrong, and she said, ‘No, it’s going to be okay.’”

Later in the morning, when she had been at work for a few hours, she received a phone call from her daughter stating that Gonzales’s brother was trying to get a hold of her.

“We were in the middle of a store audit,” Adames said. “I called his brother, Jesus. He told me, ‘You need to call my mom. She’s headed to the hospital.' I asked him if it was that bad.”

His brother told her that Juan had been in a terrible accident. Adames grabbed her stuff and headed to Advocate Christ Medical Center. Walking through the ER, a nurse came to take her to the “quiet room.”

“I told the nurse that’s bad news. She said, ‘not necessarily,’” Adames said.

Gonzales’s mother, Ercilia, and his sister, Trina, greeted her in the quiet room. Soon, Gonzales' aunt and uncle arrived. His mother told Adames that the chaplain went to find out what was going on. Meanwhile, Ercilla kept pacing back and forth.

“The chaplain came in and told us they were doing CT tests, and then they would take Juan to his room,” Adames said. “Only three of us were allowed [in ICU], me, his mother and sister.”

Due to COVID-19, they viewed Gonzales behind glass. Eventually, Juan’s mother, sister and Adames were allowed a few moments by his bedside one at a time. His mother went in first, and returned five minutes later with her son’s belongings.

“I went in to see him. His head was swollen, and he was on a breathing machine,” Adames said. “I kissed him on his head. I told him that I loved him very much and didn’t know what I would do without him. He was my rock. I said I knew it wasn’t his doing, and I was going to do everything in my power to find justice for him.”

Neurologists determined there was no activity in Gonzales' brain. There was nothing there, so the family had life-support systems disconnected, and Juan died. During his funeral at Schmaedeke Funeral Home, someone mentioned seeing a statement on Facebook about a white SUV with front end damage and a motorcycle down, but she couldn't find it.

Adames continues trying to put together the pieces of that morning. When Gonzales left the house, he took Southwest Highway to Cicero Avenue, then north to Laramie. A woman who saw the accident from her own vehicle called 911. She told police that Gonzalez's Indian bike got clipped by a white SUV at Cicero and 71st Street. The 911 call was placed at 5:24 a.m. Gonzales’ Indian motorcycle bounced off the side of the woman’s car.

A Chicago police detective from the major accident investigation unit told Adames there was a video of the striking vehicle captured on the security camera from a railroad yard at Cicero and 65th Street.

“I don’t even have a video,” Adames said.

Chicago police said the crash is still under investigation, but haven’t released an image of the vehicle to the public.

A CPD detective from the major accident investigation unit told Adames that there was video of the vehicle from a railway office at 65th and Cicero. The video only showed a side view, so police couldn’t get a plate number.

“I asked if the vehicle was following him and how far back it was,” Adames said.

Before he died, Adames and Gonzales had talked about getting married. Her 12-year-old grandson, who lives with her, is taking Gonzales' death hard.

“He was very attached to Juan,” she said. “My grandson lost his grandpa and now Juan. He’s suffered back-to-back losses.”

She hopes other witnesses will come forward and contact the Chicago Police Major Accidents Investigation Unit at 312-745-4521, and she wants the driver to turn themselves in.

“Juan would give you the shirt off his back,” Adames said. “He was very straightforward and would tell you like it is. He didn’t sugarcoat anything. He was my world.”

Gonzalez’s mangled Indian motorcycle is sitting under a tarp in his brother’s garage.

“I haven’t seen it,” she said. “A friend told me it’s nothing that I want to see.”