Skip to content

My Blog

URGENT: Serious accident leaves 9 M0RT0S, among them was our beloved Fab… See more

URGENT: Serious accident leaves 9 M0RT0S, among them was our beloved Fab… See more

Posted on September 21, 2025 By gabi gexi No Comments on URGENT: Serious accident leaves 9 M0RT0S, among them was our beloved Fab… See more

A devastating accident between a van and a truck turned Tuesday night (13) into a scene of tragedy on BR-251, in Grão Mogol, in the North of Minas Gerais. Nine people died and another 12 were injured in a head-on collision that shocked the country and mobilized rescue, forensic and investigation teams.

Now, authorities are trying to understand what caused the impact and whether it could have been avoided.

Truck invaded the wrong way, confirms expert opinion
The first analyses carried out by the Civil Police of Minas Gerais (PCMG) indicate that the truck involved in the accident invaded the opposite lane of the highway, causing a direct collision with the van that was transporting workers returning to Ceará.

“It was a determining factor,” said expert Hugo Leonardo. Tire marks, drag marks and grooves in the asphalt were fundamental to this finding, according to the experts.

The official conclusion will be presented in a technical report, expected to be completed within 30 days, which may hold those involved legally liable.

Road conditions may have contributed

At the time of the accident, it was raining moderately and the road was wet — conditions that may have contributed to the loss of control of the truck. Fog and possible speeding are also being investigated.

According to the Federal Highway Police (PRF), the stretch is known for its high accident rate, especially on rainy days.

The history of the highway and vehicle maintenance will also be considered in the investigation.

The impact of the accident was immediate and fatal. Of the 21 people involved:

The accident mobilized ambulances from SAMU, Fire Department, Civil Police and PRF, who worked throughout the night to rescue and remove the bodies.

The PCMG released preliminary data on fatal victims, without revealing names. The dead include men and women aged between 4 and 52, from different states in the Northeast:

Boy, 4 years old – Uberlândia (MG)

Man, 29 years old – Crato (CE)

Man, 33 years old – Trindade (PE)

An elderly man who has not yet been identified

The identification was made possible thanks to facial recognition and fingerprint collection. The unidentified victim had no documents and, according to forensic doctor Aline Brito, authorities are already cross-referencing information with civil identification databases.

Where did the passengers come from?
The van was carrying 19 seasonal workers who had embarked from cities on the borders of Goiás and Minas Gerais — such as Prata, Araguari and Catalão. They had finished a day of work harvesting fruits and vegetables and were heading towards Ceará, where they would spend some time with their families.

Van was irregular for interstate transport
The National Land Transport Agency (ANTT) confirmed that the vehicle did not have authorization for interstate passenger transport. The irregularity raises an alert about the conditions of clandestine transport, often used by rural workers due to the low cost.

ANTT reported that it is collaborating with the authorities and will provide all available data to assist in the investigation.

What does the truck company say?
The transport company OPR Logística, owner of the truck, lamented the tragedy in an official statement. The company, which has been operating for 28 years, stated that it is at the disposal of the authorities and reinforced that safety is a priority in its operations.

For now, no information has been released about the driver’s history or the mechanical conditions of the vehicle at the time of the accident.

Investigation and next steps
The Grão Mogol Police Station has opened an investigation to determine the case. The expert report will be a key element in determining criminal and civil liability for the accident.

The police are working with the hypothesis that the truck driver was reckless, but other possibilities have not been ruled out.

The tragedy reignites the debate about the conditions of Brazilian roads, the use of illegal transport and the inspection of heavy vehicles on federal highways

Uncategorized

Post navigation

Previous Post: Not a Coincidence He Looked Left When Penalty Was Announced!
Next Post: A Husband Tried to Fool His Wife With a Fake D.e.a.t.h, Until Her Stunning Response Changed Everything

More Related Articles

Patients Reveal the Most Awkward Patients Reveal the Most Awkward Uncategorized
When my ex-wife demanded that the money I saved for our late son be given to her stepson, I thought grief had dulled my hearing. But as I sat across from her and her smug husband, their audacity crystal clear, I realized this wasn’t just about money — it was about defending my son’s legacy. I sat on Peter’s bed, and the room was too quiet now. His things were everywhere. Books, medals, and a half-finished sketch he’d left on the desk. Peter loved to draw when he wasn’t busy reading or figuring out some complicated problem that made my head spin. “You were too smart for me, kid,” I muttered, picking up a photo frame from his nightstand. He had that crooked grin, the one he’d flash whenever he thought he was outsmarting me. He usually was. This picture was taken just before my smart boy got into Yale. I still couldn’t believe it sometimes. But he never got to go. The drunk driver made sure of that. I rubbed my temples and sighed. The grief hit me in waves, like it had since November. Some days, I could almost function. Other days, like today, it swallowed me whole. The knock on the door brought me back. Susan. She’d left a voicemail earlier. “We need to talk about Peter’s fund,” she’d said. Her voice was sweet but always too practiced, too fake. I didn’t call back. But now, here she was. I opened the door. She was dressed sharp as always, but her eyes were cold. “Can I come in?” Susan asked, stepping past me before I could answer. I sighed and motioned toward the living room. “Make it quick.” She sat down, making herself at home. “Look,” she said, her tone was casual, like this was no big deal. “We know Peter had a college fund.” I immediately knew where this was going. “You’re kidding, right?” Susan leaned forward, smirking. “Think about it. The money’s just sitting there. Why not put it to good use? Ryan could benefit.” “That money was for Peter,” I snapped. My voice rose before I could stop it. “It’s not for your stepson.” Susan gave an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head. “Don’t be like this. Ryan is family, too.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Family? Peter barely knew him. You barely knew Peter.” Her face reddened, but she didn’t deny it. “Let’s meet for coffee tomorrow and discuss it. You, Jerry, and I.” That evening, the memory of that conversation lingered as I sat back down on Peter’s bed. I looked around his room again, my heart aching. How did we get here? Peter had always been mine to raise. Susan left when he was 12. She didn’t want the “responsibility,” as she’d called it. “It’s better for Peter this way,” she’d said like she was doing us both a favor. For years, it was just me and Peter. He was my world, and I was his. I’d wake up early to make his lunch, help him with homework after school, and sit in the stands cheering at his games. Susan didn’t bother. She’d send a card for his birthday, sometimes. No gifts, just a card with her name scrawled at the bottom. That’s what made the one summer with Susan and Jerry so hard. Peter wanted to bond with them, even if I didn’t trust it. But when he came back, he was different. Quieter. One night, I finally got him to talk. “They don’t care about me, Dad,” he’d said softly. “Jerry said I’m not his responsibility, so I ate cereal for dinner every night.” I clenched my fists but didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to make it worse. But I never sent him back. Peter didn’t mind, or at least he never showed it. He loved school, and he loved dreaming about the future. “One day, Dad,” he’d say, “we’re going to Belgium. We’ll see the museums, the castles. And don’t forget the beer monks!” “Beer monks?” I’d laugh. “You’re a little young for that, aren’t you?” “It’s research,” he’d reply with a grin. “Yale’s going to love me.” And they did. I remember the day the acceptance letter came. He opened it at the kitchen table, his hands shaking, and then he yelled so loud I thought the neighbors might call the cops. I’d never been prouder. Now, it was all gone. That night, I barely slept, preparing for the conversation with Susan. The next morning, I walked into the coffee shop, … (continue reading in the 1st comment) When my ex-wife demanded that the money I saved for our late son be given to her stepson, I thought grief had dulled my hearing. But as I sat across from her and her smug husband, their audacity crystal clear, I realized this wasn’t just about money — it was about defending my son’s legacy. I sat on Peter’s bed, and the room was too quiet now. His things were everywhere. Books, medals, and a half-finished sketch he’d left on the desk. Peter loved to draw when he wasn’t busy reading or figuring out some complicated problem that made my head spin. “You were too smart for me, kid,” I muttered, picking up a photo frame from his nightstand. He had that crooked grin, the one he’d flash whenever he thought he was outsmarting me. He usually was. This picture was taken just before my smart boy got into Yale. I still couldn’t believe it sometimes. But he never got to go. The drunk driver made sure of that. I rubbed my temples and sighed. The grief hit me in waves, like it had since November. Some days, I could almost function. Other days, like today, it swallowed me whole. The knock on the door brought me back. Susan. She’d left a voicemail earlier. “We need to talk about Peter’s fund,” she’d said. Her voice was sweet but always too practiced, too fake. I didn’t call back. But now, here she was. I opened the door. She was dressed sharp as always, but her eyes were cold. “Can I come in?” Susan asked, stepping past me before I could answer. I sighed and motioned toward the living room. “Make it quick.” She sat down, making herself at home. “Look,” she said, her tone was casual, like this was no big deal. “We know Peter had a college fund.” I immediately knew where this was going. “You’re kidding, right?” Susan leaned forward, smirking. “Think about it. The money’s just sitting there. Why not put it to good use? Ryan could benefit.” “That money was for Peter,” I snapped. My voice rose before I could stop it. “It’s not for your stepson.” Susan gave an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head. “Don’t be like this. Ryan is family, too.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Family? Peter barely knew him. You barely knew Peter.” Her face reddened, but she didn’t deny it. “Let’s meet for coffee tomorrow and discuss it. You, Jerry, and I.” That evening, the memory of that conversation lingered as I sat back down on Peter’s bed. I looked around his room again, my heart aching. How did we get here? Peter had always been mine to raise. Susan left when he was 12. She didn’t want the “responsibility,” as she’d called it. “It’s better for Peter this way,” she’d said like she was doing us both a favor. For years, it was just me and Peter. He was my world, and I was his. I’d wake up early to make his lunch, help him with homework after school, and sit in the stands cheering at his games. Susan didn’t bother. She’d send a card for his birthday, sometimes. No gifts, just a card with her name scrawled at the bottom. That’s what made the one summer with Susan and Jerry so hard. Peter wanted to bond with them, even if I didn’t trust it. But when he came back, he was different. Quieter. One night, I finally got him to talk. “They don’t care about me, Dad,” he’d said softly. “Jerry said I’m not his responsibility, so I ate cereal for dinner every night.” I clenched my fists but didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to make it worse. But I never sent him back. Peter didn’t mind, or at least he never showed it. He loved school, and he loved dreaming about the future. “One day, Dad,” he’d say, “we’re going to Belgium. We’ll see the museums, the castles. And don’t forget the beer monks!” “Beer monks?” I’d laugh. “You’re a little young for that, aren’t you?” “It’s research,” he’d reply with a grin. “Yale’s going to love me.” And they did. I remember the day the acceptance letter came. He opened it at the kitchen table, his hands shaking, and then he yelled so loud I thought the neighbors might call the cops. I’d never been prouder. Now, it was all gone. That night, I barely slept, preparing for the conversation with Susan. The next morning, I walked into the coffee shop, … (continue reading in the 1st comment) Uncategorized
Vance Slams CBS Host Brennan For Trying To Smear Tulsi Gabbard Vance Slams CBS Host Brennan For Trying To Smear Tulsi Gabbard Uncategorized
The Secret My Best Friend Kept For Years The Secret My Best Friend Kept For Years Uncategorized
The Vatican shakes: It came to light the se… see more The Vatican shakes: It came to light the se… see more Uncategorized
30 Minutes ago in Florida , Marco Rubio was confirmed as…See more 30 Minutes ago in Florida , Marco Rubio was confirmed as…See more Uncategorized

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Recent Posts

  • The “small round hole” on the nail clipper has special and powerful uses!!👇
  • ‘Wheel of Fortune’ Player Stuns Internet After Solving This $65k Puzzle Super Fast
  • ‘Wheel of Fortune’ Fans Upset Over This ‘Tough’ Bonus Round Puzzle
  • Only a True Detective Can Spot All 4 Objects. Are You One of Them?
  • tls Nobody in my family came to my basic graduation. A few weeks later, my dad texted: “I need $8,000 for your sister’s wedding.” I sent $8 with “Best wishes.” Then I told my husband to change the locks. After that, my dad called the cops on me.

Recent Comments

No comments to show.

Archives

  • May 2026
  • April 2026
  • March 2026
  • February 2026
  • January 2026
  • December 2025
  • November 2025
  • October 2025
  • September 2025
  • August 2025
  • July 2025
  • June 2025
  • May 2025

Categories

  • Uncategorized

Copyright © 2026 My Blog.

Powered by PressBook Green WordPress theme