Stephen Montoya
An injury suffered in an assault at his restaurant has forced Carlos Rodriguez mostly off his feet.
By the time the summer heat began to settle over Fort Worth, Carlos Rodriguez could barely walk. The man behind the counter at Fuego Burger — a small, beloved joint on Benbrook Boulevard known for its famed fiery namesake burger — had spent the last few weeks recovering from something far worse than a kitchen accident. In May, three men walked into the restaurant and allegedly left him battered on the floor.
Since then, Rodriguez and his wife Christie have been holding the place together the only way they know how — by cooking through it. With their son Alex by their side and a loyal community showing up in force, the family has kept the grill going. But behind the counter, there are sleepless nights, mounting medical bills, and the kind of pain that lingers long after the bruises fade.
“I can’t run food. I can’t help them cook or clean or anything,” Rodriguez says. “I sit here and answer the phone. That’s all I can do right now.”
He can also at times work the counter and cash register.
The Rodriquez family never asked for a GoFundMe. They didn’t want to make a fuss. Instead, they opened their doors each morning and got to work, flipping burgers and prepping food into the early hours. Most nights, they don’t leave until 3 a.m.
There’s no slowing down.
“We’re only open eight hours,” Rodriguez says, “but we’re here 12 to 15 hours a day.” The beef is never prepped ahead of time. Nothing is left sitting. The temperature has to be just right. Every patty is made fresh, even if that means grinding, forming, and seasoning the meat after closing.
Still reeling from the altercation, Rodriguez and his wife are in the grips of the aftermath, only four weeks after the incident.
It began, police say, with a water bottle one customer, later identified as 24-year-old Nehemiah Green of DeSoto, didn’t buy there. Rodriguez says he asked Green to throw it away. The restaurant doesn’t permit outside drinks. The exchange turned hostile. Minutes later, fists were flying.
Rodriguez re-injured a knee that was once fractured in a motorcycle wreck years earlier. A visit to the emergency room ruled out a break, but his doctor has since ordered a battery of tests. A sonogram ruled out a blood clot. An MRI will help determine whether surgery is needed. With no health insurance, every procedure is another out-of-pocket expense.
“We had insurance, but it was over $1,000 a month,” Rodriguez says. “Now we pay straight out of pocket.”
He hesitates to talk about it. “I don’t feel right doing something like a fundraiser. There are people who deserve help for better reasons.”
The mounting costs, however, have the family reconsidering help.
Regardless of the outcome, Carlos stands by his handling of the situation.
“It’s not like I cussed him out,” he says. “I just said, ‘Hey, just so you know, we don’t allow outside food or beverage. There are two signs on the door. Obviously, you didn’t read them.'” He offered Green the option to finish it or toss it — a standard courtesy. But Green got agitated.
“So, OK,” Carlos recalls, “you’re going to refuse to follow my rules — why should I treat you nice?”
Things unraveled fast. The men began shouting not just at Carlos, but at other customers. Christie went to the kitchen to back up orders and started packing the men's food to go.
“It wasn’t until they started yelling at a customer that I stepped in again,” Rodriguez says. “I reminded them I’d already spoken to them about the water bottle.” One of the men demanded a refund. Carlos refused. A party of regulars walked in. Tensions escalated.
“I lost my cool,” he admits. “They were trying to scare our customers off, shouting trash, making a scene. So, yeah, I told them they had to go.” When Carlos stepped between the men and his guests, it turned physical. “One guy had me in a chokehold. When I tried to get free, I twisted my knee — the same one I had surgery on after a motorcycle wreck seven years ago.”
The Rodriguezes have been in the restaurant game for a long time. But nothing like this had ever happened — not in six years at Fuego Burger, not at their first spot down the road, and not in their worst imagination.
“We’ve had people get upset before,” Christie Rodriguez says. “But you never think someone’s going to swing at you.”
Carlos Rodriguez still replays it in his head. “I’ve thought about it 100 times. I should’ve taken it outside,” he says. “I wasn’t trying to make a scene in front of my customers. It just happened fast.”
He knows the cost, not just physical, but personal.
“We’re private people,” he says. “We didn’t want to be on the news. But people started asking questions. We wanted to set the story straight.”
Police later confirmed the men were arrested and are facing charges.
“The lead detective told me, ‘You could’ve punched him in the face and thrown him out, and you still wouldn’t have been in the wrong,’” Rodriguez recalls. But that wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want to fight. He just wanted to serve burgers and thank his customers for showing up.
That gratitude still outweighs the trauma. “We just want to thank everyone for their support,” Rodriguez says. “Even on days when we’re slow, the fact that people still come — that means the world.”