Frank L. Olivarez Sr., a Fort Worth native and patriarch to a large family, had just marked his 56th birthday five days before his death. Born on December 19, 1953, Frank was a father to two daughters, Veronica Tristan and Stephanie Olivarez, and five sons: Dominic, Michael, Gilbert, Marcos, and Frank Olivarez Jr. He also had a stepson, Gregory Villarial, and was a grandfather. In the final days of 2009, his family gathered to mourn him, holding a rosary and funeral service at Mount Olivet Chapel before he was interred at Greenwood Memorial Park.
While relationships could be complex, the sorrow of his absence was undeniable. His son, Frank Jr., later shared a heartfelt message online: "My father was always in and out of my life. But he ways always was and will be in my heart for ever! He will be greatly missed by me and my family! Words can not say enough! I love you dad!" This tribute speaks to a bond that remained despite any distance, and a loss that was profoundly felt.
The festive spirit of the 2009 holiday season was irrevocably broken for the Olivarez family. Late on the evening of Christmas Eve, Thursday, December 24, Frank was in the parking lot of a shopping center on North Main Street in Fort Worth. In the quiet hours when the city was settling in for the holiday, Frank was shot. The wounds were fatal, and he was pronounced dead at the scene. His death, a homicide, became a tragic entry in the city's crime records as the year drew to a close. Details about the motive or the events that led to the shooting have never been made public, leaving a void where answers should be.
The Fort Worth Police Department handled the initial investigation into the murder of Frank Olivarez, a Hispanic male. Detectives would have canvassed the parking lot, a space that should have been filled with last-minute shoppers, searching for forensic evidence and witnesses. North Main Street, a bustling corridor stretching from the historic Fort Worth Stockyards, is home to countless businesses whose security cameras might have held a clue. Investigators would have pursued these leads, hoping for an image of a suspect or a getaway vehicle.
Despite the efforts of law enforcement, the case grew cold. No arrests were ever announced, and no persons of interest were ever publicly named. For over a decade, Frank's murder has remained one of Fort Worth's unsolved homicides, a source of unending pain for a family left without closure or justice. The case file remains open, awaiting a new piece of information—a witness stepping forward, a memory jogged, or a scientific breakthrough—that could finally illuminate the truth of what happened that Christmas Eve.
The unresolved nature of his death has left a lasting wound. A cousin, Marcos Olivarez, shared his grief and faith, writing, "my condolences to all those who knew and loved my cousin, may he rest in peace, there are not many of us left but rest asure that one day we will all reunite in a better place." A friend remembered him simply as "my brother," recalling the days they had spent together. These messages, left in the wake of tragedy, offer a glimpse of the man who was lost and the community that still mourns him.
The investigation into Frank Olivarez's murder is now considered a cold case. The person or persons responsible for his death have never been held accountable. His family continues to navigate a world without him, holding onto memories and the faint hope that justice might one day be served. As of November 2026, his case remains open but unsolved within the Fort Worth Police Department.