Understand Your Rights. Solve Your Legal Problems
The cause of death for congressional aide Regina Aviles has been officially confirmed.
According to the Bexar County Medical Examiner’s Office, the 35-year-old staffer died by suicide through self-immolation after dousing herself in gasoline and setting herself on fire in the backyard of her Uvalde, Texas, home on September 14, 2025.
Aviles — a married mother of one who had been separated from her husband — served as the regional district director for Congressman Tony Gonzales (R-TX). Authorities said there was no evidence of foul play, and that surveillance footage from home security cameras captured the incident.
Colleagues and friends have described Aviles as a compassionate, hardworking woman who carried the weight of the community she served. As part of Gonzales’s district team, she worked to connect veterans, families, and small business owners with federal resources — a job that often kept her up late at night.
“She always made time for people who felt unheard,” said one former coworker. “Even when she was struggling herself, Regina’s instinct was to help others.”
Those close to her say the months before her death were marked by emotional strain following her marital separation. She shared custody of her eight-year-old son, who, relatives say, was her reason for pushing through.
Congressman Tony Gonzales, who employed congressional aide Regina Aviles before her death, speaks during an interview at his office.
After her death, multiple reports surfaced alleging that Aviles had been romantically involved with Congressman Gonzales. The relationship, said to have begun in late 2021, reportedly caused tension within the office and her marriage.
When contacted by reporters, Congressman Gonzales did not deny the alleged affair. In a statement released by his office, he said:
“Regina Aviles was a kind soul who had a lasting impact on her community, which she continued to serve until her untimely death. To see political bottom-feeders distort the circumstances around her passing is truly sickening.”
Gonzales did not attend Aviles’s funeral on September 25, according to multiple sources familiar with the service.
Aviles’s mother, Nora Gonzales, insists her daughter’s death was a tragic accident, recalling Regina’s final words as, “I don’t want to die.”
Her obituary described her as “a devoted mother, loving daughter, and loyal friend whose kindness touched every life she encountered.”
Despite the medical examiner’s ruling, the City of Uvalde has sought to seal all records connected to the case — including 911 recordings, police reports, and video evidence. Officials have cited “privacy concerns” and requested that the Texas Attorney General’s Office allow the records to remain confidential.
That decision has now triggered a broader debate over government transparency and the public’s right to know the full story behind a tragedy that touched both political and personal worlds.
When a tragedy unfolds in public service, citizens often expect answers. But in Texas, those answers can disappear behind legal exceptions — even when the facts should belong to the public record.
The key question many Texans are now asking:
Can the public access the autopsy and investigation records in the Regina Aviles case?
Under the Texas Public Information Act (TPIA), government-held documents — including autopsy reports — are presumed public unless exempted by statute.
Similarly, Article 49.25 of the Texas Code of Criminal Procedure states that autopsy reports are public records, except for sensitive photos or medical imagery.
However, both the City of Uvalde and the Bexar County Medical Examiner’s Office have asked to withhold the full file, claiming privacy protections for the family and citing the “ongoing review process” — even though law enforcement has said no criminal charges will result.
According to Kelley Shannon, Executive Director of the Freedom of Information Foundation of Texas:
“Just because a record is technically public doesn’t mean you’ll get it. Counties often delay or redact using discretionary exceptions that weren’t meant for this purpose. That lack of transparency chips away at trust — especially when public figures are involved.”
Shannon adds that access to records isn’t just a media issue — it’s about ordinary citizens being able to confirm what their government is doing.
When agencies restrict access to basic information, public confidence in both law enforcement and elected officials suffers.
In Aviles’s case, sealed records mean unanswered questions for her family, her colleagues, and the broader community she served.
For everyday Texans, the takeaway is clear:
You have the right to request autopsy and investigation records through the TPIA.
If denied, agencies must cite the exact legal exemption they’re using.
You can appeal to the Texas Attorney General’s Open Records Division — a step most citizens never realize they can take.
Transparency, as Shannon notes, “isn’t about politics. It’s about closure, truth, and the public’s right to understand the institutions that serve them.”
The story of Regina Aviles is one of ambition, heartbreak, and unanswered questions.
Her death reveals not just the weight of personal despair, but the silence that sometimes follows when tragedy touches power.
For her family, the battle for transparency is about dignity.
For the public, it’s a reminder that truth in government should never depend on who’s involved — only on what’s right.
