7 Nuns Disappeared During Pilgrimage – 24 Years Later, The Truth Shocks Everyone- Part 1

In May 2001, seven Benedictine nuns from the Santa Teresa Convent in Queretaro, Mexico, left the convent gate on a pilgrimage to the shrine of Our Lady of Wadalupe. They brought rosaries, prayers, and rock-solid faith. But just a few days later, they disappeared, no one found their bodies, no one knew what happened. The case gradually cooled down and sank into oblivion for 24 years.

Until one afternoon in May 2025, in the harsh sunlight of the plateau, the sound of an excavator bucket suddenly hit something hard like metal. Under the dry red soil, the edge of something that was neither stone nor wood was revealed. He bent down to brush off the dust and realized it was a copper box that was rusted and warped by time but was sealed tightly with candle wax that had long since melted.

That box was no ordinary object, it was something that had been lying quietly under the earthen cage for 24 years, waiting for this moment to reveal itself. And when it opened, inside was a diary sealed in plastic. The leather binding was worn but the writing was as clear as if it had been written yesterday. The first pages were dated May 15, 2001 with the opening sentence On the third day of our pilgrimage something terrible was about to happen.

If anyone finds these lines, please know the truth about what happened to my sisters. At the bottom of the page was signed Sir Maria Ánh Nguyệt, 34 years old, one of the seven nuns who disappeared without a trace on the way to the Quadvupe shrine that year. When this news reached Father Minh, he was almost stunned. In his life as a priest, he had witnessed enough pain but never had anything haunted him for as long as this incident.

That year, Father Minh was only 28 years old, full of enthusiasm and ambition. He was the one from Truc Phuc who sent the nuns on their journey, believing that this would be a beautiful pilgrimage, both expressing faith and spreading love. He had no idea that it would be the day he accidentally signed their death warrant.

For 24 years, the image of those faces had never left his mind. Sir Maria Anh Nguyet, the only one in the group, with deep green eyes and a smile that could soothe all anxiety. Sister Cam Huong, the youngest after Bich Cham, only 23, always counted her rosary beads, softly singing Ave Maria. Sister Hoai An, the one in charge of the kitchen, always had her hands nimbly preparing food for the whole group.

Sister To Lon, the quiet librarian, thought more sharply than anyone. Sister Ngoc Diep, sensitive, often letting tears roll down her cheeks, but was the one who prayed the longest. Sister Thien Huong has a gentle motherly appearance, hugging everyone makes them feel warm. And finally, Sister Bich Cham, who is only 20, humorously asked for a ticket at the last minute as if this trip was the only chance in life.

At that time, they called that trip a pilgrimage of hope. The plan was simple, walking from Taro’s hometown to the Guadalupe shrine, stopping at parishes along the way to pray and help the poor share meals. A whole week of good deeds. No one thought that just a few days later they would disappear as if they were worth swallowing.

In the first days of searching, the whole area was in a fever, police, helicopters, sniffer dogs, all involved. But then everything cooled down, no body, no trace, only the question remained hanging. Where did they go? My father was burdened by looks that were half pity and half reproach.

No one said it directly, but he knew what everyone was thinking. He was the one who sent them away alone. Time passed, the case was shelved, people began to forget. Only Father Minh and the relatives of the seven nuns still remembered, still hurt. He hung their photos in his office at the Sacred Heart Church, each photo like a cut that never healed.

Every time he looked at it, he wondered, “If I had gone with him that year, would things have been different or would I also be lying somewhere in an unnamed grave?” And then the phone call from General Thanh Hoang pulled him back to the old nightmare. The bee’s voice was low, a little shaky but full of hope. Father must come immediately. This diary. Sir Maria wrote until the last minute, Father must see carefully.

Just like that, Father Minh’s heart felt like it was about to stop beating. His old car rolled on the road to hunt for single soldiers. The wheels carried with them many memories. 24 years ago, this same road. He saw them off, watching from afar, his heart filled with pride, mixed with a bit of pride. Now, each kilometer seemed to tighten his chest more.

He knew that the diary could answer all questions, but at the same time it could also force him to face the most painful truths of his life. When he arrived, he saw the bronze box placed neatly on

It was not just paper and ink, it was breath, tears, and the denial of a person he had promised to protect. At that moment, Father Minh understood that this trip would not just be about reading a diary. This would be a journey back to the past, facing the hole