EDWIN Gutierrez clutched the bag tight, careful not to spill any of Ricardo Lino’s bones. He stood on top of a wall of tombs stacked one after another. In this part of St. Jude’s Cemetery, walls like it went eight graves high. Despite how endless the array of concrete graves seemed, the city often ran out of space for the dead. Five years in the tomb, then it needs to be emptied. Men like Edwin did the emptying.