This interview, conducted by journalist Mike Annel, offers a rare glimpse into the harrowing personal experience of Amit Stromberg—a seasoned Israeli security specialist and former special forces operative. In their candid conversation, Amit breaks a 14-year silence to recount a tragic night in Cancun that profoundly marked his life and sent ripples through Mexican political circles. Far from the battlegrounds where he made his career, Amit’s story here reveals the intimate human impact of loss, trauma, and the consequences of public distortion, shedding light on events that continue to haunt everyone involved.
[Mike Annel]:
When I sit down with Amit Stromberg in a quiet café in Tel Aviv, I’m not sure what to expect. He’s an Israeli former special forces soldier with over two decades of experience in International private security. But today, he’s not here to talk about war zones. Instead, he’s agreed to finally share a story he’s carried in silence for over 14 years—a tragedy that unfolded in a luxury penthouse in Cancun, Mexico, and was later twisted into political ammunition.
As we begin, Amit takes a deep breath. He doesn’t dramatize. He doesn’t speculate. He simply tells it.
[AMIT STROMBERG]:
It was 2011. I was living in Cancun full-time, working private security for a client named Kaloian D. He was originally Bulgarian but already a Mexican citizen at the time, very established in the resort and tourism Business. Serious, well-connected, but low-profile. He lived on the 19th-floor penthouse of a tower in the Hotel Zone. I was living in one of the guest rooms in the same apartment, a space set aside for security.
That night started like many others. Kaloian came home from his office with his girlfriend—she was Venezuelan, I think. Might’ve been an actress or a singer. I remember her being familiar, but I never asked.
Later that evening, his childhood friend from Bulgaria, Minco Pidev, arrived from Amsterdam. Minco brought two women with him—his girlfriend, and her friend. All Bulgarians. The three of them were staying at Kaloian’s apartment for a few weeks, visiting.
From the start, the friend seemed off. She wasn’t loud, she wasn’t drunk, but there was something distant about her. I’ve worked long enough to recognize that kind of weight in a person. It felt like she wasn’t really present.
Two other local friends of Kaloian came to the party that night as well. The atmosphere was light, a bit festive. People were chatting, laughing, music played quietly in the background. Nothing wild. Just a casual night.
At one point, Kaloian decided to go to a friend’s villa in Riviera Maya, a gated community just outside Cancun. He asked me to drive him and his girlfriend. The others — Minco, his girlfriend, the other Bulgarian woman, and the two guests — stayed behind.
We arrived at the villa. A short while later, I got a call from the building concierge. He told me a woman was standing dangerously on the balcony of our penthouse. Less than a minute after, I received a second call from a neighbor—someone I knew personally—saying the same.
I immediately told Kaloian to stay and enjoy the party at the villa, and I’d go back and check.
I drove back alone. When I got into the apartment, Minco and the others were sitting in the living room, music on, talking. I asked where the second Bulgarian girl was—the one who’d seemed off. They said she went to sleep.
I went to the guest room. It was empty. The balcony door was open.
She was outside.
Standing outside the railing, on the narrow ledge. Nineteen (19) stories above the ground, just holding the bar.
At that moment, we didn’t know exactly how long she had been there, but it was clear she had already been outside for a while. Several staff members and neighbors were also watching from their own balconies.
We tried to approach her, to talk her down. Minco and the other Bulgarian woman joined me. But she didn’t want to be reached. Slowly, she stepped sideways, moving to the next balcony.
That unit belonged to Senator AKA “Green Kid”. Everyone in Mexico knew him by that nickname. He was a powerful political figure. Some thought he could become president one day. But he wasn’t home. His place was dark. There was no way to reach her.
Police and bomberos had already arrived—likely called by the concierge or neighbors. They arrived without sirens or lights, and I asked them to keep it that way. We didn’t want to escalate anything.
We kept trying to talk to her. Her friend called out. Then she finally responded:
She said, “If I go back, they’ll send me back there. If I go forward, it’s freedom.”
It was chilling.
She stood there for a long while. And then we saw flashing lights. We didn’t know why at the time, but later we learned that just a few blocks away, a young Canadian tourist had jumped from his hotel balcony. Completely unrelated. Same night. Same time.
It was one of those impossible coincidences. Something so surreal, it couldn’t have been scripted. The whole night felt haunted.
She saw the lights.
She screamed: “They’re coming for me!”
And she jumped.
She missed the net that the firefighters prepared for her.
Landed on the balcony of a local businessman — the owner of one of Cancun’s most prominent newspapers. His young daughter was standing there. She saw it all…. She saw it all!
The trauma from that moment… it left deep scars. That girl saw something no child should ever witness.
The woman died instantly.
We later learned she had been standing on those balconies — first at Kaloian’s, then at Senator Green Kid’s — for nearly two hours before she jumped. One of the guests even recorded a large part of it on his phone, showing her standing motionless in the night. It was terrifying to watch even after the fact. Several tenants and building employees had been witnessing it from their balconies, helpless. Everyone who saw it understood what was happening. It was suicide — clear as day, and heartbreaking.
[Mike Annel]:
What happened next?
[AMIT]:
The authorities responded immediately. They took me, Minco, his girlfriend, and the others in for questioning. I helped translate. Everyone gave statements. They interviewed staff, neighbors. Everyone confirmed: it was a suicide.
Kaloian wasn’t even at the scene.
Later on, Minco and his girlfriend were also questioned by Bulgarian authorities after they returned home. But it was clear to everyone what had happened.
Still, the story didn’t stay quiet.
A few months later, it resurfaced — not as a tragedy, but as a political weapon.
A very powerful Mexican politician, one of the Senator “Green Kid’s” rivals, saw an opening. Suddenly, the media was spinning a different story — that the girl had been trying to escape from something inside “Green Kid’s” apartment.
But “Green Kid” wasn’t even in town. She had never met him.
It didn’t matter.
One of the first to publish the story was the local newspaper owned by the businessman whose daughter witnessed the fall. But it didn’t stop there. In total, 28 different newspapers (I counted) and national media outlets across Mexico ran front page stories about the incident — almost all of them pushing a completely false narrative targeting Senator “Green Kid”.
Green Kid’s career took a major hit. He didn’t resign, but politically, he was sidelined. Damaged. The path to higher office disappeared.
[Mike Annel]:
And Kaloian?
[AMIT]:
He never spoke publicly. Never gave a statement. Even though he had nothing to do with it. He stayed quiet.
As for me — I never talked about it. Not until now.
[Mike Annel]:
Why now?
[AMIT]:
Because what haunted me wasn’t only the suicide. It was everything that followed. The way people took a personal tragedy and turned it into a political campaign.
I’ve worked in war zones. I’ve seen combat. But this — watching a human story get distorted like that — it was something else.
It’s been over 14 years.
And I still remember every second.