Haven Trevino was only nineteen.
A young mother, a daughter, a friend — and to her little boy Ezra, she was the whole world.

She worked hard at a small Italian restaurant, dreaming of giving Ezra the safe, happy childhood she never had.

Every shift meant more than just a paycheck — it meant hope.
But on the night of November 12, 2020, that hope was stolen from her in the most tragic way imaginable.

Haven had recently ended a toxic relationship with her ex-boyfriend, Isaiah Mesa, a man whose temper had once terrified her.
She wanted peace, a chance to rebuild.
She was trying to start over — not just for herself, but for Ezra.

She wanted to be free.

But freedom, for Haven, came at a heartbreaking cost.

That evening, as the lights glowed softly at Orlando’s Italian Restaurant, Isaiah waited in the parking lot.

He had driven from Dallas to Lubbock — carrying not just anger, but a gun.
When Haven walked outside, everything happened in seconds.
The sound of laughter and clinking plates turned into screams.
She was shot — and though paramedics rushed her to the hospital, she never made it home again.

Isaiah fled to a nearby church, St. Joseph’s Catholic, and turned the gun on himself.

Before pulling the trigger, he told witnesses the words that froze their hearts:
“I just killed my girlfriend.”

It was a tragedy that left two families shattered and one small boy without his mother.

Haven’s family could barely comprehend the cruelty of it all.
They had watched her fight for her independence — for her right to live without fear.
But the same man who once promised to love her took everything from her instead.

Court records would later reveal the truth Haven rarely spoke of — the violence she endured, the fear she tried to hide.
Her cousin, Hannah, shared that Haven had been trying to “change her circumstances for a better life.”

It wasn’t easy.
There had been dark days — days when Isaiah’s rage left bruises, when his jealousy became suffocating.

According to Child Protective Services records, Isaiah’s violence began long before that final night.

On Mother’s Day 2020, he choked Haven until she lost consciousness, believing he had killed her.
When she woke up, he threw water on her face to make sure she was still alive.
A week later, he poured liquor on her and pinned her to the wall so she couldn’t escape.
Neighbors had to step in to help her pack and leave.

Even then, she didn’t call the police.

She wanted to protect her child — not start a war.
But the abuse didn’t stop.
Isaiah followed her, vandalized her car, poured bleach on her during an argument, and even injured their son, giving the little boy a black eye.
Each time, Haven picked herself up, trying to move forward.
Trying to believe in a better tomorrow.

When she finally left Dallas and moved back to Lubbock to live with her great aunt and uncle, everyone thought she was finally safe.

She was rebuilding, smiling again, working hard.
Her coworkers described her as cheerful and kind — “the kind of person everyone wanted to be around.”
She was loyal, caring, and always the first to offer help to others.
No one could have guessed the danger still lurking in her shadow.

That night, Isaiah found her.
And within minutes, Haven’s story — one of courage, survival, and hope — came to an end.

But the story of who she was continues.

To her family, she isn’t defined by her final moments.
She’s remembered for her laughter, her warmth, and her fierce love for Ezra.

 
Her cousin Amiya remembers her as “the person who always had your back — loyal, caring, and funny.”
She was the heart of their family, the one who kept everyone close.

Her death shattered the illusion that abuse is “someone else’s problem.”
It showed the devastating consequences of silence — and the urgent need to protect victims before it’s too late.

In the months that followed, the Lubbock community came together to honor Haven’s life.
Candles flickered in the cold night air as friends gathered to remember her.
They spoke of her kindness, her strength, and her dream of becoming a nurse one day.
They promised that Ezra would grow up knowing who his mother was — that her story would not be forgotten.

Her son, just two years old, was placed with family members who loved him deeply.
Though too young to understand, he would one day be told about his mother’s bravery — how she fought for a better life, even when the world seemed determined to break her.

Haven’s story is a reminder that love should never hurt.
That control is not care.
That silence can cost lives.

Every year, on November 12, her family lights a candle for her — a flame that burns not just for memory, but for change.
They speak her name, tell her story, and vow to protect others like her.

Because Haven Trevino’s life mattered.
And though she’s gone, the light she left behind still shines — in her son’s laughter, in her family’s strength, and in every woman who dares to walk away and begin again.