The trans woman was shot dead by police last month after calling 911 and approaching officers with a knife, according to video footage released Sunday by the Los Angeles Police Department.
Linda Betera Moran, 30, passed away on February 27, just a few weeks after life support, shaking friends and community supporters.
Becerra Moran told an emergency operator who was being lured in the 10,000 block of San Fernando Road on the morning of February 7th.
Videos of the encounter showed Becerra Moran, a distraught moment leading up to the shooting, and a police officer speaking in Spanish, roaming around the motel room, drawing guns, as they were standing in the doorway. After she moved slowly towards them, they fired fire, the video showed.
Becerra Moran had reported in her motel room that she was against her will as a possible victim of sex trafficking, said Soma Snakeoil, executive director of Sidewalk Project, a nonprofit organization in Skidrow.
Linda Betera Moran, shown in the undated photograph, died a few weeks after life support. Hospital officials were unable to contact Ecuadorian families.
(Distribution materials)
Becerra Moran was hospitalized in critical condition after the shooting, Snakeoil said, and the life support decision was approved by the hospital’s ethics committee, and she was undergoing treatment after trying to contact her family in her hometown of Ecuador. The LA County Medical Examiner’s Office said information about the incident remains limited as “legal close relatives have not been notified.” LAPD did not admit death for more than a week.
Becerra Moran leaves little online presence, and the mystery surrounds how she ended up at the San Fernando Valley Motel where police shot her.
“This has such a scary connotation for LA survivors. If they are afraid of calling 911, if they are afraid of police shooting them when they call 911,” Snakeoil said.
LAPD has identified the shooting head as Jacob Sanchez, a four-year division veteran currently assigned to the Foothill division.
Authorities have released few additional details about the fatal encounter so far, including whether they had taken into custody of the suspect Becerra Moran when they arrived.
In a conversation with the 911 dispatcher, the distraught, sounding Veterra Moran says that the man in another room is holding her against her will and taking the other man into the room.
“I swear to you, I have no reason to lie to you, Lord Jesus Christ,” she hears sob on the phone.
“Are they forced you to do this?” the dispatcher asks.
“Yes,” replies Becerra Moran.
The dispatcher then issued warnings to Foothill Police Force about possible lures and who poses “danger to themselves,” police said.
The video released by the police shows a group of officers in the room and asks Veterra Moran to sit in the bed.
The officer who was reviewing her head afterwards for an injury suggests to his colleague that an officer should place her on “hold” for mental health.
When the supervisor arrives, she is upset and demands that they leave her, sob and shout the officer to scream to leave.
“No, if you guys offered help, I don’t want your help,” she cried to them. “What is she saying?” the supervisor asks. She then begins to push the minifridge in the direction before grabbing the knife and grabs it around her neck, urging the officer to draw the weapon.
As she moved in the direction, Sanchez fired and she fell into the bed.
Like all LAPD shootings, the case will also be reviewed by the Police Commission, its inspectors and the District Attorney’s Office.
Snakeoil, whose organization serves disadvantaged people, said he first met Veterra Moran in MacArthur Park in late 2023.
At the time, Becerra Moran was “away from sexual violence,” Snaikul said, and the organization worked to temporarily house her in a local motel. But she never stayed in one place for too long, floating between Westlake and Hollywood.
Across Los Angeles County, shelter beds for female survivors of human trafficking are rare, especially for those struggling with trans and mental health.
Sidewalk project researcher Kim Soriano remembers Becerra Moran for her independent discrimination.
“She decided to survive. She was very resilient. She knew what she wanted, what she liked and what she felt comfortable,” said Soriano, who encountered her while studying her papers on police treatment for trans and queer people in MacArthur Park.
Becerra Moran, a devout Catholic, owned a five-pound statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe.
“She told me she was carrying it with her, which provided her protection,” Soriano said. She once recalled, and Becerra Moran said of the statue: “She has come a long way with me, so beware of her.”
Over the course of months, the two said they were talking about Becerra Moran, who joined in and navigated their lives as a trans woman who supported herself as a sex worker while living on the streets. To her, the threat was everywhere. gang. Drugs. police.
Soriano said Veterra Moran was one of the park’s regulars who expressed dissatisfaction with law enforcement. Like others, she was wiped out by a seemingly endless cleanup targeting drug use and theft in the area. The tents were dismantled, belongings were seized, and people were forced to leave. Still, she ultimately felt that police were there for protection, Soriano said.
“She was being held hostages and trafficked, so I called them when I needed help, and they met her with even more violence,” Soriano said. “Maybe she believed they would become some kind of lifeline for her.”
Becerra Moran had been awarded a housing voucher, but “no one left her anywhere,” Soriano said, considering the city lacked short-term shelter and housing options. Eventually, with the help of Soriano, she secured a bed at the area shelter.
She didn’t stay long. Soriano was unhappy that she had dumped something that had been dumped by the shelter staff. She also recalled that Becerra Moran felt unsafe after being placed in a dorm-style room with three other residents.
Soriano was no longer able to contact her when Becerra Moran returned to the street and lost her phone.
Soriano said he continues his outreach at MacArthur Park and hopes to meet Veterra Moran again. She never did.
Lee Rachapel, the coalition’s associate director for the Abolishment of Slavery and Human Trafficking, said Becerra Moran’s case is a reminder of why police are not the answer to help survivors of human trafficking. In recent years, law enforcement has announced a gradual crackdown to curb businesses along the well-known “track.”
“They see them through the lens of crime, not through vulnerabilities, they treat them as people who need help,” Rachapel said. “I’m very worried that this will be written as a mistake or some kind of exception.”
Snequil, from the sidewalk project, said she visited Becerra Moran several times in the hospital and offered words of encouragement from her bedside. During the visit, the room was placed under alert by two LAPD officers, Snakeoil said.
At one point she realized that Becerra Moran’s precious Guadalupe was nowhere to be found. A sidewalk project worker quickly bought a replacement. It was placed next to the hospital bed. It remained there as Snakeoil said their goodbye.
“We’re mad,” Snikil said. “This is a vulnerable woman and a survivor of violence.”
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