The waters between Ensenada City and Guadalupe Island were rich in fisheries, and many fishermen liked to work there.
An old fishing boat with a grating engine noise was fishing nearby, and the young Koulibaly followed behind his father, helping to forcefully pull in the nets as slogans filled with Mexican slang were shouted, and the nets were dragged up by the machinery.
Koulibaly hadn't even caught his breath when he heard his father's curses. He looked up and his pupils dilated in shock.
A half-body lay among the fish, the upper half gone, the wounds looking as if it had been bitten off by some ferocious prey.
Finding a dead body in the sea was disconcerting and considered bad luck, but being seasoned at sea, they simply tossed it aside and planned to bury it on land once ashore.
