Puerto Vallarta Crocodile Attack: When a Resort Beach Becomes a Death Trap
You are reading this because someone you love was taken by a crocodile on a beach that was supposed to be safe. Maybe you got the call at midnight — the kind of call where the voice on the other end cannot finish the sentence. Maybe you are sitting in a hotel room in Puerto Vallarta right now, staring at the same water that swallowed someone you cannot yet believe is gone, while a resort employee hands you a brochure and a phone number for their insurance company. Maybe you are back home, thousands of miles away, trying to understand how a beach in front of a major international resort — a place that advertises luxury and safety — could become the site of a death so violent and so foreseeable that the only real question is not whether someone failed your family, but how many someones, and how far up the corporate chain that failure reaches.
We are Attorney911 — The Manginello Law Firm, PLLC. We handle hotel and resort injury and wrongful death cases. Ralph Manginello has spent 27 years in courtrooms, including federal court, building cases against companies that knew a danger existed and chose not to do enough about it. Lupe Peña spent years inside a national insurance-defense firm — the rooms where adjusters and their software decide how to deny, delay, and devalue people exactly like you — before he decided to use that knowledge for the families the insurance machine chews up. We speak Spanish. We have handled hotel and resort premises cases. And we are going to tell you, in plain language, exactly what happened to your family, what the resort is already doing about it, and what your rights are — because the resort’s insurance company is already three moves ahead of you, and you need to be awake to the game before another hour passes.
What Happened at the Marriott Puerto Vallarta Resort and Spa
Here is what public reporting tells us: on a Friday evening at approximately 6 p.m. local time, a 28-year-old man from Mexico City was on the beach in front of the Marriott Puerto Vallarta Resort and Spa. A crocodile seized him and pulled him into the water. An overnight search — on land and in the water — located his body Saturday morning, roughly 984 feet (300 meters) from shore. State authorities said the crocodile had dragged him out to sea.
The resort issued a statement: “The safety and security of our guests and associates are our top priority.” It said that warning signage, red flags, and night patrols were already in place. Local authorities urged the public to heed warning signs and stay out of waters known to contain wildlife, especially near estuaries and mangroves.
That statement — “our top priority” — is the first exhibit in your case. Not because it is true, but because it is what a company says when it knows it is about to be asked why someone died on property it controls. The real questions are never in the press release. They are in the records: Were the signs actually there that evening, or had they been washed out, fallen down, or never replaced? Were the red flags actually flying, or were they in a storage closet? Was a patrol actually scheduled for 6 p.m. — dusk, the hour when crocodiles are most active — or did “night patrols” mean something that started hours later? And the deepest question: if this resort sits near known crocodile habitat — estuaries and mangroves, the kind the authorities warned about — what did the resort know about prior crocodile sightings and encounters at this specific beach, and when did it know it?
Can a Resort Be Liable When a Crocodile Kills Someone on Its Beach?
Yes — if the danger was foreseeable and the resort did not do enough to warn people or protect them. That is the core of premises liability, and it applies to resorts and hotels the same way it applies to any property owner: the person who controls the property owes the people they invite onto it a duty of reasonable care, which includes warning about known dangers and taking reasonable steps to protect them.
A crocodile attack is not an act of God. It is not a freak accident. It is not an unforeseeable event that no one could have predicted — not in Puerto Vallarta, not on a beach near estuaries and mangroves, not at 6 p.m. at dusk. Crocodiles are apex predators that live in specific, identifiable habitats. Their presence near a resort beach in a tropical coastal area with river mouths, mangroves, and estuaries is a known, documented, and foreseeable hazard. The question is never “who could have known?” The question is “who already knew, and what did they do about it?”
Premises liability, at its core, asks four things:
Duty. A resort that invites guests onto its beach — and markets that beach as an amenity, a place to swim, a place to relax — owes those guests a duty of reasonable care. That duty extends to dangers the resort knows about and dangers it should know about. A resort near crocodile habitat has a duty to know that crocodiles are there.
Breach. Did the resort act as a reasonable property owner would? Warning signs, red flags, and patrols are the baseline — but the question is whether they were actually maintained, whether they were adequate for the specific danger, and whether the resort did more than the bare minimum. A sign that says “caution” is not the same as a sign that says “crocodiles are active at dusk — do not enter the water.” A red flag that was not flying that evening is not a warning. A patrol that starts at 9 p.m. is not a patrol at 6 p.m.
Causation. If adequate warnings had been in place — real warnings, maintained and visible, specific to the crocodile danger, at the time of day when crocodiles are most active — would this person have gone into the water? The resort will argue he would have, that he ignored warnings. The evidence — the actual condition of the signs, the actual flag status, the actual patrol schedule — answers that question.
Damages. A 28-year-old man is dead. He was seized by a predator, dragged underwater, and his body was found the next morning nearly a thousand feet from shore. The harm is catastrophic. It is final. It is a wrongful death.
The Marriott Corporate Structure: Who Actually Controls This Property
Here is something the resort will not tell you: the name on the sign and the company that is legally responsible for your safety are frequently two different entities — and sometimes three or four.
Marriott International, Inc. is one of the largest hotel companies on earth. As of its most recent annual filing, Marriott operates approximately 30 brands, roughly 9,361 properties, and about 1.7 million rooms across 144 countries. But here is the structural reality: approximately 77% of those properties are franchised — owned by independent third-party owner LLCs, not by Marriott. Marriott licenses its brand, its reservation system, its loyalty program, and its brand standards. It does not necessarily own the building, employ the front desk staff, or decide how many security guards walk the beach at dusk.
This matters enormously for your case because it creates what we call the shell game:
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The franchisee-owner LLC — the entity that actually owns the building and the beach. This is the company with direct control over the property, the one that decides whether to post signs, fly flags, and hire patrols. This entity carries the primary commercial general liability insurance.
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The management company — sometimes the same as the owner, sometimes a separate entity hired to run day-to-day operations. This is the company that sets staff schedules, maintains the property, and responds to incidents.
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Marriott International, Inc. — the brand licensor. It collects royalties and franchise fees. It sets brand standards — which may include safety standards. It controls the reservation system and the loyalty program. But it will argue it does not “operate” the property and therefore is not responsible for what happens on the beach.
The defense Marriott will raise is simple: “We do not own or operate this hotel. The franchisee does. We license our name.” And in many jurisdictions, that argument has worked — courts have dismissed claims against hotel franchisors when the plaintiff could only show that the brand collected a fee and should have known about general dangers. The case against the franchisor requires more: you have to show that Marriott exercised actual control over how this specific property was run — its safety protocols, its staffing, its security, its warning systems — beyond merely setting brand standards.
But the case against the franchisee-owner — the entity that actually controls the beach, the signs, the flags, the patrols — is direct. That entity owed a duty to everyone on that beach. It breached that duty if its warnings were inadequate. And it is responsible for the death that followed.
“The safety and security of our guests and associates are our top priority.”
That statement came from the resort. It is an admission that the resort recognized its own duty. The question is whether its conduct matched its words — and the records will answer that.
The Duty to Warn About Known Wildlife Hazards
A resort near crocodile habitat has a duty that goes beyond posting a generic sign. Here is what that duty actually requires:
Knowledge of the hazard. Crocodile presence in the Puerto Vallarta area is not a secret. The area’s geography — river mouths, estuaries, mangroves, tidal flats — is textbook crocodile habitat. Local authorities explicitly warned the public to stay out of waters known to contain wildlife, “especially near estuaries and mangroves.” A resort operating in this environment has a duty to know what every local authority and every wildlife expert already knows: crocodiles are there.
Adequate warnings. A warning must actually warn. It must identify the specific danger — not “caution” but “crocodiles may be present, do not enter the water.” It must be visible, maintained, and positioned where people will actually see it before they reach the water. It must address the specific times of danger — crocodiles are most active at dusk and at night, which means a warning that does not specifically address the danger of entering the water at 6 p.m. is not an adequate warning for a 6 p.m. attack.
Active measures. Signs and flags are passive. A resort that knows crocodiles are in the water near its beach may need active measures: trained staff who monitor the water, a system for closing the beach when crocodiles are spotted, a communication protocol that gets people out of the water when danger is present. “Night patrols” — if they actually existed and actually operated at the relevant hour — are a step in this direction. But a patrol that does not start until after dusk is not protecting anyone at 6 p.m.
Prior incidents. If crocodiles had been spotted at this beach before — and in an area like Puerto Vallarta, near known habitat, the question is not whether but how often — the resort had actual notice of the danger. Prior sightings, prior encounters, prior complaints from guests or staff, prior calls to wildlife authorities — each one is a piece of notice that raises the resort’s duty and makes the failure to warn more inexcusable.
The foreseeability framework is the spine of this case. A danger that is known and foreseeable creates a duty. A resort that ignores a known, foreseeable danger is not the victim of bad luck — it is the cause of the harm.
What the Resort’s Own Statement Reveals
Read the resort’s statement again: “warning signage, red flags, and night patrols were already in place.” That sentence is not a defense. It is a confession — and it raises more questions than it answers.
“Warning signage” — Where were the signs? Were they at the entrance to the beach, or were they somewhere guests could walk past without seeing? Were they in the languages spoken by the guests? Were they specific to crocodiles, or did they say something generic like “swim at your own risk”? Were they maintained — or had they been damaged by weather, removed for maintenance, or never properly installed? The physical condition of the signs on the evening of the attack is evidence. If the signs were missing, damaged, or inadequate, the resort’s claim that they were “in place” is either false or misleading.
“Red flags” — Red flags on a beach mean “do not swim.” Were they actually flying that evening? Who put them up, and when? Were they in place at 6 p.m.? Beach flags are removed at the end of the day, taken down by staff, blown away by wind, or simply never put up. The flag deployment log — if one exists — will show whether red flags were actually flying at the time of the attack. If they were not, the resort’s statement is an admission that its own safety protocol was not followed.
“Night patrols” — This is the most revealing phrase. The attack happened at 6 p.m. In Puerto Vallarta, sunset varies but generally falls between 6:30 and 7:30 p.m. depending on the season. Six p.m. is dusk — the hour when crocodiles begin their most active feeding period. If “night patrols” means patrols that start at 8 p.m. or 9 p.m. or after full dark, then there was no patrol at 6 p.m. — the exact hour when the danger was highest. The patrol schedule is evidence. If there was a gap between when the beach was most dangerous and when the patrol actually started, that gap is where your loved one died.
Every one of these claims — signage, flags, patrols — is testable against the resort’s own records. And every one of those records is on a clock.
The Medicine of a Crocodile Attack and Drowning
A crocodile attack is not a single mechanism of injury. It is a cascade — and understanding that cascade matters for the case because it establishes the timeline, the suffering, and the damages.
The bite. Crocodiles possess the strongest bite force of any living animal. The initial seizure — the crocodile grabbing the victim — produces massive blunt force trauma. The jaws crush tissue, fracture bones, and can sever limbs. For a person seized at the water’s edge and dragged in, the bite itself may produce immediately life-threatening injuries: open fractures, massive soft-tissue damage, hemorrhage.
The drag. Crocodiles do not kill immediately. They drag prey into deeper water. The victim is pulled from shallow water into deeper water — in this case, the body was found 984 feet from shore. During the drag, the victim is fighting to breathe, fighting to stay above water, and suffering ongoing trauma from the crocodile’s grip and the rolling motion crocodiles use to subdue prey.
The drowning. The primary mechanism of death in most crocodile attacks is drowning. The victim is held underwater and cannot breathe. The drowning process is fast — from submersion to cardiac arrest can occur in seconds to minutes. The brain begins to suffer irreversible injury within four to ten minutes of oxygen deprivation. The hippocampus, basal ganglia, and cerebral cortex — the regions that control memory, movement, and consciousness — are the first to die.
The recovery. The body was found Saturday morning — hours after the attack. By that time, death had occurred long before. The question of how long the victim survived after being seized, whether he was conscious during the drowning, and the extent of his suffering before death — these are questions for a forensic pathologist, and they matter for the survival action damages.
This is not a case where someone died instantly and painlessly. This is a case where a 28-year-old person was seized by a predator, dragged underwater, and drowned — a death that was violent, terrifying, and potentially prolonged. The suffering component of the damages is real, and it is significant.
What Compensation Exists in a Wrongful Death Case
A wrongful death case is built from two parallel tracks — and the resort’s insurance company will do everything it can to make sure your family only walks through one door.
The wrongful death track belongs to the surviving family. It compensates the family for what they lost: the financial support the victim would have provided, the services he performed, the companionship and guidance he would have given. In a death case, the economist measures the victim’s lost earning capacity — the years of work, the wages, the benefits, the household services — and subtracts the share the victim would have consumed personally, leaving the net support the family would have received. For a 28-year-old, the lost earning capacity alone can be substantial — decades of work, promotions, raises, benefits, all erased in a single evening.
The survival track belongs to the victim’s estate. It carries the claim the victim would have had — the pain, the suffering, the terror of being seized and dragged underwater, the knowledge that he was dying. This is the track the insurance company least wants to talk about, because it is the track that puts a dollar value on the worst experience a human being can have.
Economic damages are the calculable losses: past and future lost earnings, lost benefits, medical expenses (if any treatment was attempted before death), funeral and burial costs, the cost of transporting the body from Mexico. These are provable with records and expert math.
Non-economic damages are the human losses: the grief, the loss of companionship, the loss of the life the victim would have lived, the pain and suffering he experienced before death. These are the losses no receipt can measure — and they are the losses the insurance company will fight hardest to minimize.
The coverage reality. A major resort’s insurance tower is typically layered: a primary commercial general liability policy, then excess layers stacked above it. The franchisee-owner’s policy is the first layer. Marriott, as the franchisor, sits behind indemnity clauses in the franchise agreement and its own excess layers. The total available coverage for a catastrophic injury or death at a major resort can be substantial — but the insurance company’s entire strategy is to make sure you never see the top of that tower. Their first offer — if they make one — will be a fraction of the coverage that exists and a fraction of what the case is worth.
We handle these cases on contingency: 33.33% before trial, 40% if the case goes to trial. We do not get paid unless we win. The consultation is free. And the first thing we do — before we talk about money, before we talk about strategy — is make sure the evidence is frozen before it disappears.
The Evidence That Proves the Case — and How Fast It Disappears
Every premises liability case lives or dies on evidence that has a shelf life. In a resort case in Mexico, that shelf life can be brutally short. Here is what exists, who holds it, and how fast it can legally vanish:
Surveillance footage. Resorts operate extensive camera systems — covering lobbies, hallways, pools, beaches, and parking areas. The camera that filmed the beach at 6 p.m. may have captured the attack itself, the conditions of the warning signs, whether flags were flying, whether any staff were present, and whether anyone entered the water. But resort surveillance systems typically overwrite on a rolling loop — often 30 days, sometimes shorter. Unless someone sends a written preservation demand ordering the resort to freeze that footage, it will record over itself and the single most important piece of evidence in the case will be gone.
Incident reports. The resort generated an incident report the evening of the attack — it is standard practice for any major property. That report was written by resort staff, and it contains their contemporaneous account of what happened, what conditions were like, what warnings were in place, and who responded. This report is the resort’s own version of events, written before lawyers got involved. It is invaluable — and it can be “lost,” revised, or buried if no one demands it early.
Warning sign maintenance records. If the resort claims signs were in place, there should be records showing when signs were installed, inspected, maintained, and replaced. A gap in the maintenance record — signs that were not inspected for months, signs that were reported damaged and never fixed — is direct evidence that the warnings the resort claims were “in place” were not actually there.
Beach flag deployment logs. If the resort has a flag system, there should be a log showing when flags were raised and lowered each day. If the red flag was not logged as deployed on the evening of the attack, the resort’s claim that warnings were in place collapses.
Patrol schedules and logs. If the resort claims night patrols were in place, the actual schedule will show when patrols started and ended. If the patrol started at 8 p.m. and the attack happened at 6 p.m., the patrol was not protecting anyone at the moment of danger. The patrol log — showing who was on duty, when they started, and what they did — is the proof.
Prior incident records. If crocodiles had been spotted at this beach before — and in this area, the question is how many times — there should be records. Guest complaints, staff reports, wildlife authority calls, internal incident reports. Each prior sighting is a piece of notice. Each one raises the resort’s duty. These records may be scattered across the resort’s files, local government files, and wildlife agency files.
Police and government reports. Jalisco State Police investigated. Their report — and any report from local wildlife authorities — is an official record of what happened. These reports are obtainable, but the process in Mexico requires local counsel who knows the system.
Witness statements. Other guests on the beach, resort staff, first responders — every person who saw what happened, or who can describe the conditions that evening, is a witness. Memory degrades. People leave. Staff transfer. The longer you wait to identify and document witnesses, the more the testimony fades.
This is why the preservation letter — a formal written demand that the resort and Marriott freeze all relevant evidence — is the first move, not the last. The day you call us is the day that letter goes out. Not because we have taken your case — we may not have, yet — but because the evidence is dying, and the only thing that stops it is a document that puts the resort on notice that destruction will have consequences.
If the resort lets required evidence die after receiving a preservation demand, the law answers. In many jurisdictions, a judge can give the jury an adverse-inference instruction — telling them they may assume the missing evidence was as bad for the resort as the plaintiff says it was. The leverage begins the moment the letter is on file.
The Insurance Adjuster’s Playbook: What They’ll Try
The resort’s insurance company has a playbook. Lupe Peña knows it because he used to run it. Here are the plays you should expect — and the counter to each:
Play 1: The fast, friendly call. Within days — sometimes hours — someone will call you. They will be warm, sympathetic, and concerned. They will ask you to “just tell us what happened” — on a recording. They will say they want to “get you something quickly.” This call is engineered to get you to say things that will later be used against you: that the signs were visible, that your loved one “was a strong swimmer,” that he “went in on his own.” The counter: do not give a recorded statement. Do not describe what happened to an adjuster. You are not required to. Anything you say will be transcribed, stripped of context, and quoted back to you in a deposition. If they want to talk, they can talk to your lawyer.
Play 2: The quick check. A check may arrive fast — sometimes before the funeral. It will come with a release document that, once signed, ends your claim forever. The amount will be a fraction of what the case is worth. The counter: do not sign anything. Do not cash anything. A check with a release on the back is a trap — cashing it can constitute acceptance of the release, even if you did not read it. Every document the insurance company puts in front of you is designed to close the case cheaply, not to help you.
Play 3: “He ignored the warnings.” The resort will argue that your loved one went into the water despite signs, flags, and warnings. This is the oldest defense in premises law — blame the victim. The counter is the evidence: if the signs were not actually there, if the flags were not flying, if the warnings were generic or invisible or in a language he did not read, then he did not ignore warnings — there were no adequate warnings to ignore. The physical condition of the beach that evening, not the resort’s press release, decides this.
Play 4: “It was an act of nature.” The resort will argue that a crocodile attack is a freak, unforeseeable event — like a lightning strike. The counter is foreseeability: crocodiles in Puerto Vallarta, near estuaries and mangroves, at dusk, are not a freak event. They are a known, documented, predictable hazard. If prior sightings occurred — and the records will show whether they did — the attack was not unforeseeable. It was the predictable consequence of an inadequate warning system.
Play 5: “Marriott doesn’t operate this property.” The franchisor will argue it is not responsible because the franchisee runs the hotel. The counter is control: if Marriott set the safety standards, controlled the reservation system, branded the property, and profited from every booking, the question of how much control it actually exercised over safety is one for a jury — and the franchise agreement, brand-standard manuals, and internal communications are the documents that answer it.
Play 6: Delay. The insurance company may simply go quiet. They may ask for “more time” to investigate. They may say they need more documentation. The goal is to let the months pass — past the evidence, past the witnesses, past the deadline. The counter is a lawyer who moves: who sends the preservation letter, who files the claim, who sets the deadlines, and who does not let the insurance company run out the clock while the evidence dies.
How a Case Like This Is Actually Built
Here is how a premises liability case against a resort is built — not the brochure version, but the real one:
Week one: The preservation letter. The day you call, a written demand goes to the resort, to Marriott, and to any third-party management company. It names every category of evidence: surveillance footage, incident reports, warning sign maintenance records, flag deployment logs, patrol schedules, prior incident records, guest complaints, staff communications, and the resort’s own safety policies. It puts them on notice that destruction will have consequences.
Early weeks: Records and investigation. We pull the police report from Jalisco State Police. We work with local counsel in Mexico to obtain government records, wildlife agency reports, and any prior incident documentation. We identify witnesses — other guests, resort staff, first responders — and we document their accounts before memories fade and people scatter.
The corporate structure map. We identify the actual operating entity — the franchisee-owner LLC that controls the property. We identify the management company. We identify the correct Marriott licensing entity. We pull corporate filings, franchise agreements, and insurance information. The goal is to name every entity that owed a duty and every entity with money to pay a judgment.
The expert analysis. A premises liability expert examines the warning system — the signs, their placement, their condition, their language, their visibility. A wildlife or crocodile expert establishes what the resort knew or should have known about crocodile presence in the area. A forensic pathologist establishes the mechanism of death and the extent of suffering. A forensic economist calculates the lifetime economic loss. Each expert ties a piece of the case to the evidence.
Discovery. The resort produces the records we demanded — or explains why they cannot. Gaps in the records are themselves evidence. A missing patrol log, a gap in the sign maintenance record, a surveillance system that “malfunctioned” — each gap is a piece of the case. Depositions follow: the resort manager, the security director, the staff who were on duty that evening. Under oath, the resort’s story gets tested against the documents.
The number. A real demand is built from the evidence: the economic loss (lifetime earnings, benefits, household services), the non-economic harm (the suffering, the grief, the loss of the life), and the punitive exposure if the resort’s conduct was more than ordinary negligence — if it was a conscious disregard of a known danger. The adjuster’s first offer is a fraction of this number. The trial is where the real number is decided.
This is not a fast process. But the evidence that decides it is fast-dying — which is why the first move, the preservation letter, is the one that matters most.
The First 72 Hours: What to Do and What to Refuse
If you are reading this in the first hours or days after the attack, here is what matters right now:
Do not give a recorded statement to the resort’s insurance company. You are not required to. Anything you say will be used to build a defense, not to help you. “I just want to tell them what happened” is the sentence that has sunk more cases than any insurance tactic.
Do not sign anything. No release, no waiver, no authorization, no “acknowledgment.” If someone puts a document in front of you and says it is routine, it is not routine. It is designed to close your claim.
Do not accept a check. A check that arrives quickly is a fraction of what the case is worth. Cashing it can bind you to a release you did not read.
Do not post on social media. Nothing about the attack, nothing about the resort, nothing about your grief. The insurance company monitors social media. A photo of you smiling at a family event — even months later — can be used to argue you are not suffering.
Do preserve everything you have. Photos of the beach, the signs (or the absence of signs), the flags (or their absence), the time of day, the conditions. Screenshots of the resort’s website, its marketing materials, its safety claims. Names and contact information for anyone who was there. The resort’s own statement to you, in writing, if you can get it.
Do call a lawyer. Not next week. Not after the funeral. Now — because the surveillance footage that captured the conditions on that beach is recording over itself, and the only thing that stops it is a preservation letter from a law firm. We send that letter the day you call. We do not charge for the consultation. We do not charge unless we win.
Do understand the deadline. Because this attack happened in Mexico, the statute of limitations — the legal deadline to file a claim — may be governed by Mexican law, which has its own deadlines that can be shorter than what you might expect in the United States. If a claim is filed against Marriott in a U.S. court, different deadlines may apply. The deadline is not something to figure out later. It is something to confirm now, with a lawyer who can identify the correct forum and the correct law. Waiting is the single most common way a strong case dies.
Frequently Asked Questions
Can I sue Marriott for a crocodile attack at a resort in Mexico?
Potentially, yes — but the path depends on several factors. If Marriott International, a U.S. corporation, is named as a defendant, a U.S. court may have jurisdiction over the parent company even though the incident occurred in Mexico. The question of what law applies — Mexican law or the law of the U.S. forum state — is a choice-of-law issue that a court will decide. The franchisee-owner, the entity that actually controls the property, is a separate defendant. The case against the franchisee is direct: it owed a duty to people on its beach, and if its warnings were inadequate, it is liable. The case against Marriott as franchisor requires showing it exercised enough control over the property’s safety to bear responsibility. Both paths are viable with the right evidence.
What if the resort says there were warning signs?
The resort’s claim that warning signage, red flags, and night patrols were “in place” is not the end of the inquiry — it is the beginning. The question is whether those warnings were actually adequate, actually maintained, and actually functioning at 6 p.m. on the evening of the attack. A sign that was damaged, missing, illegible, or generic is not an adequate warning. A red flag that was not flying is not a warning. A patrol that started after dusk is not protecting anyone at 6 p.m. The resort’s own records — maintenance logs, flag deployment logs, patrol schedules — will show what was actually there. Those records are evidence, and they are on a preservation clock.
How long do I have to file a claim?
Because the attack occurred in Mexico, the applicable deadline may be set by Mexican law, which has its own statute of limitations (prescripción) that can be shorter than U.S. deadlines. If a claim is brought against Marriott in a U.S. court, the forum state’s choice-of-law rules would determine which deadline applies. The honest answer is: the deadline depends on where the claim is filed and what law governs, and it may be shorter than you think. This is not something to figure out after the funeral. This is something to confirm with a lawyer immediately, because the evidence is dying on the same clock as the deadline.
Is a crocodile attack considered an “act of God”?
No — not in an area where crocodiles are known to live, near documented crocodile habitat, at the hour when crocodiles are most active. An act of God is an unforeseeable natural event that no one could have prevented. A crocodile attack near estuaries and mangroves in a tropical coastal zone at dusk is a foreseeable, documented, and preventable hazard. If the resort knew or should have known about crocodile presence — and in this geography, it should have — the attack was not an act of God. It was the foreseeable consequence of an inadequate warning and protection system.
What is the case worth?
Every case is different, and we will not insult you by throwing out a number before we have seen the evidence. But here is what a full claim accounts for: the victim’s lifetime lost earning capacity (a 28-year-old has decades of work ahead), lost benefits and household services, funeral and transportation costs, the pain and suffering the victim experienced before death (being seized by a predator and dragged underwater is among the most terrifying deaths imaginable), and the family’s grief and loss of companionship. If the resort’s conduct was more than ordinary negligence — if it consciously disregarded a known danger — punitive damages may be available. The insurance company’s first offer will be a fraction of the full value. That is why the case is built from the evidence, not from the adjuster’s calculator.
The resort’s insurance company already called me. What do I do?
Do not give a recorded statement. Do not sign anything. Do not accept any payment. The call you received is designed to get you to say things that will later be used to defend the case — that the signs were visible, that your loved one went into the water voluntarily, that the resort did everything it could. The adjuster is not your friend. The adjuster is a professional whose job is to close your claim for the smallest amount possible, as fast as possible. Call a lawyer first. Let the lawyer handle the communication. Everything you say to the adjuster without a lawyer can and will be used against you.
Will I have to go to Mexico for this case?
It depends on how the case is structured. If the claim is filed against Marriott in a U.S. court, you may not need to travel to Mexico for the litigation — though local counsel in Mexico will likely be involved in obtaining records and evidence from the scene. If the claim is filed in Mexico, you may need to participate in proceedings there. The forum decision — where to file, under what law — is one of the first strategic decisions in the case, and it should be made with a lawyer who understands both the U.S. and Mexican legal landscapes. We work with local counsel where required, and we handle the coordination so you do not have to manage it alone.
How do I pay for a lawyer?
We work on contingency. That means we do not charge anything unless we recover money for you. The consultation is free. If we take your case, the fee is 33.33% of the recovery before trial and 40% if the case goes to trial. We front the costs of the case — the investigation, the experts, the filings — and those costs are repaid from the recovery. If we do not win, you owe us nothing. This is not generosity. It is the only way we know to make sure a family that just lost someone can still afford to fight the company that caused it.
Why Attorney911
Ralph Manginello has spent 27 years in courtrooms — including federal court — building cases against companies that knew a danger existed and chose not to do enough about it. He was a journalist before he was a lawyer, which means he knows how to find the story the documents tell and how to tell it to a jury. He does not settle for the first number the insurance company offers, and he does not let a company hide behind a press release.
Lupe Peña spent years inside a national insurance-defense firm. He sat in the rooms where adjusters and their software decided how to deny, delay, and devalue claims. He knows how the valuation software works, how the reserves are set in the first 48 hours, how the recorded-statement call is engineered, and how the quick check with the release on the back is designed to close a case before the family has even finished grieving. He now uses that knowledge for the families the insurance machine was designed to chew up. He conducts full consultations in Spanish — without an interpreter — because the family that prays in Spanish deserves a lawyer who speaks it.
The firm has recovered $50 million-plus for injured clients. Past results depend on the facts of each case and do not guarantee future outcomes. But the record tells you something about how we build cases: we do not file a complaint and hope. We send the preservation letter, we pull the records, we map the corporate structure, we name the right defendants, we build the proof, and we do not stop until the evidence has been tested — in a deposition, in a mediation, or in front of a jury.
This page is legal information, not legal advice. Every case turns on its own facts. But the information here is the floor — the minimum a family in your situation should know before they talk to the resort’s insurance company or decide whether to act. Contacting us is free and confidential. The call costs nothing. Not calling can cost everything.
If Your Family Was Hurt at a Resort, Call Us Now
The surveillance footage from that beach is on a clock. The incident report is on a clock. The patrol schedule, the flag log, the sign maintenance record, the witness memories — every piece of evidence that would prove what the resort knew and what it failed to do is dying, and the only thing that stops it is a preservation letter from a law firm.
We send that letter the day you call.
1-888-ATTY-911. Free consultation. No fee unless we win. Hablamos Español.
Hotel and resort injury and premises liability is what we do. Wrongful death claims are how we hold companies accountable when their failures kill. Ralph Manginello built this firm on 27 years of fighting for people the system was designed to ignore. Lupe Peña brings the insider’s knowledge of how insurance companies value — and devalue — claims like yours. Our practice areas cover the full range of catastrophic injury and wrongful death work. And if you want to understand how we approach hotel negligent-security cases, our work on hotel assault and negligent-security litigation shows exactly the kind of corporate accountability fight we bring.
The resort has a team of lawyers and an insurance company working for it right now. You should have one too.
Call 1-888-ATTY-911. The consultation is free. The evidence is not waiting.