He was born on February 29, 1960, in El Paso, Texas — the youngest of five children in a hardworking immigrant family trying to carve out stability in a demanding new environment. Leap-year birthdays often become playful trivia for most children, but in his case, even that small distinction would later feel symbolic, as though his life had always existed slightly outside the rhythm of others. His parents labored long hours, determined to provide food, shelter, and opportunity. From the outside, the family appeared typical: children playing in dusty yards, bicycles left on sidewalks, neighbors exchanging greetings across fences.

Yet within the walls of their modest home, tension was a constant companion. Financial strain pressed heavily on the household, and arguments often flared without warning. His father’s temper, unpredictable and sharp, created an atmosphere where silence sometimes felt safer than conversation. Childhood milestones passed, but joy was often overshadowed by unease. Even as a young boy, he learned to read moods quickly, scanning rooms for signs of escalation. Those early adaptations, subtle and internal, would become part of a psychological framework built not on security, but on survival.