Marisela Peña, president of AAA Wrestling, has a tradition: She brings an urn, a vase made of gold and silver so ornate it practically glows, to every major AAA event. The urn contains the ashes of the company founder, her brother Antonio, who died in 2006.

Backstage at the Arena Ciudad de México, 20 minutes before the start of Triplemanía XXIII, the biggest lucha libre show of the year, here is Peña in a poufy baby blue evening gown more appropriate for the Met Ball than a wrestling match, holding the urn and delivering a pep talk to her roster—her children, as she calls them. She stands next to Luz Ramírez, who also clutches a memorial—a modest carved mahogany box with a tiny gold crucifix secured near the lid. It contains the ashes of her son Pedro “Hijo del Perro” Aguayo Ramírez, one of tonight’s inductees into AAA’s Hall of Fame.

On the night of Friday, March 20, 2015, Aguayo wrestled in Tijuana in a four person match that, when compared with the bloody brawls he was known for, appeared fairly sedate. “Everything was normal,” says T.J. “Manik” Perkins, Aguayo’s tag team partner that evening. “Up until the moment we were both on the ropes, everything was totally normal.” About five minutes in, Aguayo charged one of his opponents, Óscar “Rey Mysterio” Gutiérrez Rubio, in the corner, where Mysterio delivered Aguayo a double boot to the face. Aguayo then rolled forward and took a flying head scissors to the outside, resulting in an awkward bump on the ring apron. When Aguayo reentered the ring, Mysterio drop-kicked him in the shoulder. He crumpled into the middle rope, the perfect position for Mysterio’s signature move, the 619. Manik fell next to Aguayo. Both were supposed to duck when Mysterio swooped in, but Manik, sensing something was wrong, whispered, “Perro, Perro, down!” As Mysterio flew over him, Aguayo lay still, then slumped to the bottom rope and, finally, to the canvas. He died at a nearby hospital. The cause of death was cardiac arrest, likely the result of a cervical stroke that occurred when his neck was broken. He was 35.

Peña’s speech outside the locker room is brief, a few words on the company’s success and the tragic circumstances of this evening. It ends with another AAA tradition: a cheer for the departed.

“Perro! Perro! Long live Perro! Rah, rah, rah!”