Tempestad (2016) - full transcript

All the women were asleep.

It was the early hours,
since the prison was already silent.

Suddenly, I heard
my name being shouted out.

I was afraid because.

It wasn't usual
to be summoned at that time,

I thought they were coming
to take me to the punishment well.

The "prison crier"
who was shouting for me

came to my cell
and told me to get up,

that I had to go
to the visitors' grille.

It was a really long corridor...

When I got
to the visitors' grille,



I was standing there

when a man came along

and said to me,

Are you Miriam Carbajal Yescas?

Yes.

I'm going to read this to you:

As per article this and that,

on this day 31 August 2010,

for lack of evidence,

Miriam Carbajal

is unconditionally released.

I couldn't quite
believe it at first.

No...

No words can express
the emotion you feel



when they tell you you're free.

I grabbed some trainers,
trousers, a T-shirt,

and the photo of my son,
the first thing I saw when I woke up...

We knew there was a curfew
in Matamoros at nights,

it was almost
as if the city was at war

and every day there'd be clashes
between the Zetas and the Gulf Cartel

and the police and all.

The lawyer who came
to collect me

was afraid that we might be
kidnapped on the way.

Just five days before,
they'd found 72 migrants

in a mass grave in San Fernando.

I didn't have any money,
I was a very long way from home,

in the north of Mexico.

I had to travel across the whole
country to reach my house in Tulum.

More than 2,000 kilometres.

I remember that I got to the bus station

and went into the toilet.

It was the first time I'd seen
myself in the mirror for ages

and I didn't recognise myself,

I didn't recognise the woman
standing in front of me.

I couldn't look people
in the eye because I felt

as if everybody knew
I'd been in prison,

as if I was carrying
a placard saying.

"This woman was a convict"
or "She's a convict!"

I started

trying...

to get my head
to understand that I was out.

That the prison was left behind now

and that I had to carry on.

I began to...

to imagine that
last morning I saw my child

and tried to remember
where his bed was

or some things
about his clothes,

what Leo's room was like,
what my house was like,

the colour of the walls.

I was terrified of opening
the door of my house

and finding that pot
of chicken stock

I'd made just before

they took me away.

And I said, well,
I'm going to start from there,

pick up where I left off
as if this had been a break or a dream.

There was another part of my head,

and above all of my heart,
that was excited.

I was making plans, like...

I'm going to paint my house
and we're going to go

to the beach every day.

Where are you going, Sir?

Just to Victoria.

The terminal.

- The bus terminal?
- Yes.

- Is this suitcase yours?
- Yes.

- Where are you from?
- From here, from Matamoros.

- What do you do?
- I'm a driver.

- Where do you work?
- At the Royal company.

- Do you have any ID?
- Yes.

And where are you headed?

To the port in Tampico
to pick up a truck.

- A company truck?
- Yes.

What's your address?

It's an address in the central district,
here in Matamoros.

Why's the address
on the ID in Guanajuato?

The thing is, they haven't
given me a new ID for here.

So here is where you lived before?

- Here?
- This address?

Ah! Yes.

You'll need to change your
ID as soon as possible.

Of course.

Next.

- Is this yours?
- Yes.

Has it already been checked?

Yes, it has.

- What do you do, Miss?
- I'm studying.

- Where are you studying?
- At the... I'm at high school.

- Where are you going?
- To Tampico, Madero.

- Reason for the trip?
- To visit my dad.

- Is that where your dad lives?
- Yes.

- What's your dad's address?
- It's on calle Rhin...

Where the hospital is.
Behind the...

By the Pemex wall. Around there.

Has your case
already been checked?

Your colleague's already
checked it.

- Reason for your trip?
- Business.

- What's your job?
- Electrician.

- Are you travelling for a company?
- Yes, for a company.

- How long are you staying in Tampico?
- A week.

Take your hands out
of your pockets, please.

- Is this your current address?
- Yes, sir.

They arrested me on March 2nd, 2010.

That day, I got up at 6
in the morning.

I showered,

made my lunch

and woke up Leo
to give him a bottle.

I was working at Cancun airport,
in the immigration area.

I had already got started
on my work

which consisted of processing
incoming tourists

when a man

dressed in plain clothes

approached my passport
control desk

and said to me,
"I need you to go to the office,

right now."

When I got to the office,

most of my colleagues
were already there.

They told us we were going
to have to go to Mexico City,

there and then.

And I said,

"Oh well, that's just the way it is,
it comes with the job."

I asked them if it'd take long

because I'd need to find somebody
to look after my son

if I wasn't going to be back
in time for bed that night.

When the plane landed
in Mexico City.

I noticed that there were 20 police cars
surrounding the plane.

They took us directly
to the offices

of the Federal Investigation Agency.

There were like 30 photographers
who began to take photos

and a man, a public prosecutor,

who said we were there

accused of organised crime

and people trafficking.

They took us to a place called
El Arraigo, the holding cells.

It made the national news,
it was on the telly,

in the newspapers,

"We've caught a gang
of people traffickers,"

something like that.

Once we were in the holding cells,
that's when they first took me down

to my court-appointed lawyer...

They provide the lawyer for you.

I wanted to know who was
accusing me, what proof they had

why this thing had blown up.

And he said:

"The National Institute of Immigration
has brought charges against you."

And he said,

"Look, I know that your case
has come from the top

this is a political situation
where they have

to show they're getting results

in their handling of people
trafficking, which does exist."

"Here, we call you payers,

people who pay
for other people's crimes.

We know you didn't do
anything but,

well, somebody's got to pay."

What on earth
can you say to that?!

I remember that
I said to my sister

"I don't know, do whatever
it takes but get me out of here.

When I'd served the maximum
80 days in the holding cells

they read us out
a paper that said:

"Miss So-and-So

will be transferred
to Matamoros prison."

They handcuffed me immediately

and put a black cloth bag
over my head.

When we got to the prison

we went along
a really narrow corridor,

where they asked me my name,

my age.

The guard who signed me
in told me

to be on my best behaviour
and do everything that they told me.

I didn't know
who she was talking about.

There was a big courtyard

and in this courtyard there were

something like...

25 men.

Their appearance was

very intimidating.

They had machetes and
were carrying assault rifles.

The first thing they told us
to do was to kneel down

with our faces to the wall

and they introduced themselves.

"This is the territory
of the Cartel,

you're in a self-governing prison

and we're in charge here...

They told us we wouldn't
be staying there for free

and that the fee for respecting
our lives was five thousand dollars.

They tortured each of us in turn

they beat us with boards,
on our bodies.

They went from one person
to the next

with a note book
and a pencil or a pen.

"Let's see, your mother,

your father - what are they called?
Where do they live?"

They wanted our relatives'
phone numbers

so that they could start
sending money.

And I...

if I could have remembered
anybody's phone number

maybe I'd have given it.

Afterwards, another person arrived

with a piece of paper
that had the names of all my family

including my son.

Which makes me think
that they were getting reports

directly from the police.

At one point,
they hit me on the head,

a single blow
and I fell down at once.

When I woke up I noticed
that I had a broken tooth.

The pieces of the tooth
were still in my mouth.

It was a totally dark room.

I began to make out women's faces,

their eyes, their features.

It was a very small place
about one and a half metres by two.

The heat was stifling, stifling.

And somebody said to me.

"Hey! Are you awake now?

The way it works here
is like this.

"The last one to arrive fans air
for the rest of us".

And I didn't understand...

"Yes, yes, take off
your T-shirt and fan us".

What?

"Yes, take off your t-shirt and fan us."

I took off my t-shirt
and began to do it

for hours...

until somebody else arrived.

All of us were almost always
on our feet,

we relieved ourselves
right there,

in the same place
where we were standing.

After three days...

they took me out themselves,
carrying me,

and took me to another cell.

The first thing I saw was
an old woman,

without any teeth,

stark naked,

skinny, skinny, skinny,

who shouted in my face.

"Let me get some fucking sleep!"

I started crying really loudly,

someone got up and told me.

"Don't cry,

be quiet,
otherwise you'll annoy them".

I had no idea where all
the others were,

the people I'd arrived with,

I didn't know if my family
already knew where I was.

I fell asleep.

I woke up when a trolley came in,
and someone started shouting.

"Gruuuub's up!"

I sat on the floor

watching the other women lining up
with a cup, a glass...

Until that toothless old woman
came back,

sat down beside me
and looked into my eyes.

She gave me some of her coffee

and she gave me half of her bread.

Grab it, Santis!

Hang on – I'm admiring
the landscape here!

It looks so pretty!

Come on now!

Wait!

Every day it's the same old
thing with this table...

My name is Adela.

I have three children,
I'm mother to three children

and although none
of them work in the circus,

they certainly liked
their mummy being a clown.

They used to come along with me,
they liked seeing me working.

All my family are circus people

my uncles,

my brothers,

my nephews.

Since my grandparents' time,

there've been several
generations of us.

My dad was born in the circus.

He was the one who taught us
to feel affection for this work.

What's happened?

Let's see, come here, come here!

What's the matter?
Why are you crying?

Why are you crying?
What's the matter with you?

- Nothing.
- Do you need to pee?

No?

Let's wake up Regis. Regis!

Regis!

When my dad used to rehearse
with my uncles,

we were their public.

I was probably about
seven years old.

Now then! Up, up, up,

up.

That's it!

Run, run, run, run!

That's it - run, run,
there's nothing the matter!

Up!

That's it! Down!

Up!

Down!

Up!

Down!

I went to school like all
the normal children

but...

my dad said he wanted us
to rehearse

so we started to rehearse

like all the circus children,
with acrobatics,

and the way they taught us,

it was

a tougher discipline

than it is today.

Elephants.

Elephants, elephants.

Katy!

Elephants!

Katy!

Elephants!

That one is waiting for you!

I remember that one time I fell over
and so then I kind of wanted to cry

but they just said,
"Come on now, get up"

as if I hadn't fallen over.

In fact they might even give you
a great whack, like that,

with those strong hands people
like that have: hard, sturdy, rough.

And I didn't like that.

That was what made me
give up on rehearsing.

Katy!

It's your turn, Katy.

That's it!

That's it,
tuck your head right in.

That's it.

Being a clown is quite different,
it isn't easy either.

It took years for me to find out
what my character type was.

I really liked it when I found out
that my character was really

that of an elegant clown,

and I'm really proud of it because

I'm the only one with
a character like my dad's.

Stretch it more
pull it back further.

More, more, more, more
as far as you can,

stretch it.

Let's see,

I'm moving you
as if you were chewing gum.

But hard.

That's it.

Okay, how are you going
to salute the audience?

Elegantly your head held high.

Now to the other side
always very elegantly.

Absolute elegance.

That's it.

To the other side.

That's it.

Remember, pull your legs
and hands at the same time.

Hard, everything, everything hard
legs, buttocks, belly, everything.

Okay? Right.

Slowly.

When I first became a mother.

I couldn't imagine just
how much you love a child.

That's it.

I immediately wanted
to breastfeed my child,

to look after it.

It's a transformation

of love you've never
experienced before

having that little creature.

When you give that life
and see it growing

every day, every day,

time

slips by, unnoticed.

When you have a child

that child is unique,

one child can never

replace another.

That morning.

I saw the sunshine for
the first time after many days.

It was as if everything
was brown,

everything was tinged
with that colour.

I was firmly convinced that
I was going to end up dying there.

It's like, when you come out
of the well,

everybody knows it

and they're all kind
of nice to you

because all of them have been
there themselves.

They gave me a bar of soap,
some toothpaste,

a brush.

And among the women
who came up to me

was that little old lady again,

she gave me a clean
T-shirt and said to me,

"Have a shower you dirty pig!"

She was called Juanita.

Immediately afterwards,

they sent for me

and took me
to the men's section.

The entrance
is very impressive because

there was a gigantic poster
that said:

"Abandon hope, all ye
who enter here".

There's a wall with a painting

of Santa Muerte

with a scythe in her hand.

It's the size of a building,
I mean a three-storey building.

At one end, I saw four men

sitting at a table

with very nice haircuts
really clean, ironed shirts.

They really stood out
from the others.

They were the bosses round there.

And they said,
"Now then, sit down."

"Do you understand how things
are going to work?

You're going to have to pay
for your stay here.

You do know we mean
this seriously, don't you?

Until your family gets here
or you get in touch with them

the rule here is that
the ones who've just arrived

do all the cleaning
in the prison...

That same day I started
to do the cleaning.

The women's section
is like a tenement.

I think there were about 160 prisoners.

There are no bars in that prison

nobody is locked in

there are no uniforms

there are no police.

And there's really loud music
all the time

there was a juke box
that cost a peso a song,

everybody would be shouting
or there'd be somebody dancing.

They are really cheerful.

There were three or four women

who were the local prostitutes,

you'd see them going out,
dressed up

to the nines in miniskirts
and high heels

and they'd go to what
they call the village,

which is where the men are.

There were restaurants
and a lot of shops.

There was a cantina,
where you could drink beer

and have a snack.

A market, a normal market

where they sell fruit,
vegetables,

there's a butcher's,
a poultry seller

and there was also another part
where all the tattoo artists were.

Since the prison's on the border,

there were lots of prisoners
from Central America

and other countries.

Once we'd paid our five
thousand dollars

they demanded five hundred
dollars a week.

These five hundred dollars
were the fee they charged you

for protection against themselves,

so that you'd be able
to stay alive

until the next week.

And they did keep their promise,
that once I'd paid

nobody would ever
lay a finger on me again.

The foreman in charge
of the women's section told me.

"If you lose a pin or
a hair-slide, tell me at once,

because nobody steals here,

any woman who steals goes
to the well."

One of their most important
resources is fear.

When my relatives began
to pay the money.

I knew that they weren't going
to kill me because.

I was a business for them,
and they were profiting

from what my family gave them.

Every Monday, the accountant
would turn up.

We chatted once

and he told me he really
was a proper accountant.

He kept account books

where he would record
what Miss So-and-So paid this week...

he'd come by with his muscle...

I mean with his gang of minders,

charging, cell by cell.

But he was a very nice man,

so when he came along
he'd be a bit embarrassed, like...

"Here I am again, madame..."

I was told they had
kidnapped him

to make him do
this accountancy work.

You can get pretty much anything
there inside with money,

If you have money,
you have things,

you have respect,

it gives you power
and it gives you safety.

And everything costs.

Actually, it's not so different
from here on the outside.

People who have no money
have a very bad time,

they're called sicarios

and they can get jobs
with people who do have money,

working kind of like
their servants.

But sicarios are also
the executioners,

the ones who do the torturing.

As the days and weeks

go by things are no longer
as sordid as in the very first days.

And you gradually

start to relax.

I started to see things differently,

as if I was in their shoes.

Juanita was the noblest
and sweetest woman

I've ever met.

And although sometimes
she seemed older

she was only 47.

She adopted me.

She'd come to my cell and say
"It's time for our song now!"

We'd go to the jukebox
and put on "Lamento de amor"

by Rigo Tovar.

She sang and wept

every day.

She always used to tell me Rigo
had written that song for her.

And as soon as the song was over
we'd laugh

but she'd carry on dancing
and lift up her skirt.

I told her that when
I was a girl,

they'd amputated one of my legs.

She always told me
I was lucky because

I'd never have to kick
the bucket.

My second pregnancy
was really special to me,

I was pregnant with Monica.

My sisters used to say
they could see me coming

before I'd even turned
the corner.

I remember looking for clothes,
and not finding

any that would disguise my belly,
my belly was absolutely enormous.

All the women gave birth
at thirty-something weeks, 38, 37

and there was I, 42 weeks pregnant.

So I asked the doctor,

"Listen, is there any risk
to this birth of mine?"

He told me, "No, only that
your baby keeps growing."

I said Oh well - the baby's
just going to grow even more!

On the day of the birth

I was in the middle
of a performance

when the pains started

and I said, okay,
I'll finish working first.

I finished taking off
my make-up and everything

and my brother took me
to hospital.

While they were in the middle
of giving me a check.

I grabbed the last doctor,
who was on his way out

I squeezed his hand and said,

"Don't leave, because I'm about
to give birth."

"No, no, you're not going
to give birth, wait a bit".

And I told him,

"Yes I am, I'm going to give birth
and you're not to leave."

When they were wheeling me
along the corridor on a stretcher,

at that moment

she came out...

She wept,

she wept, in that first cry

and that was something that...

that was etched on
my memory my whole life.

My daughter Monica,

when she was in primary school

she was learning baton twirling,

so I made a suggestion,

"Listen child would you like
to work with me in the show?"

And she liked the idea.

We worked together for a while,

it was really nice because
she was the one who'd start.

Monica performed with a great deal
of passion and tenderness.

She was always very methodical,

I don't know where she learnt
that because I never taught her.

That's why I say she doesn't
take after me, but her dad.

She was just about to finish
her Psychology degree,

I think she only had one
semester left.

She had plenty of suitors,
but hadn't had a boyfriend yet.

That fly just stung me.

Don't talk, you can stay here,
but don't talk

because your voice
mustn't be recorded only ours.

They say they're going
to do an interview.

As the actresses say,
count me in three, two, one.

Hold it,
excuse me, sorry, sorry.

No, but as they say...

that's right, roll camera,

okay, okay,

but how do you do it, auntie?

- With your fingers...
- Okay, okay!

Auntie,

Carla says: "Hey Auntie Lupe,

Is it true that they have
a squirrel tail in there?"

Who said that?

A squirrel tail, of course...

Leave your fleas alone!

What fleas? My fingers are itchy
and I'm scratching them on my head...

What, what, what?

The worst of it is,
you've got the microphone on...

Exactly!
I've been ready for a while now.

Fede will say, hey, the microphone

is banging against your T-shirt.

Oh stop messing around,
be serious.

- Come on, be serious.
- Come over here!

What?

You're in the wrong place,
come here!

I think you want me over
there so you can fart about;

and the worst of it is
that I still do what you say...

Carry on, carry on.

No, don't carry on doing that, okay?

Carry on and carry
on and this one...

That's why she wants
to be near her

because she's already
leaning over here to...

ready to attack...

Don't go talking about
that here.

What's up with you?

And why are you crossing
your legs?

Take her to the toilet!

Go to the toilet!

If you've already crapped yourself,
don't piss yourself too, Lupe!

Stop, stop.

All these moments I spend with you,
do me so much good

because when I leave
and I'm on my own...

- You start laughing to yourself?
- No, it's different.

No, because she doesn't have
anybody to laugh with.

I love you so much,

I'm glad you're here with us.

You know you've got
so much support from us.

- I know, child.
- We're your family, auntie.

I know, child.

That's why I like

these moments
I spend with you, they're special.

And I know how much all of
you have always loved my daughter.

But we're not going to be sad, okay?

We're going to carry on laughing.

But listen, they're announcing:
"Miss Piggie!"

And there I am, still one foot in
and one foot out of my costume.

Run for it! But then there's
the steel wire

the ropes are attached to...

and fuck it!
I ended up over there!

I went on stage with mud
all over my knee,

but with a huge smile
on my face, feeling stylish.

Up to here. Up to here.

That's it.

There's one image that's really
etched on my mind,

the day I saw Juanita running
all around the courtyard

in no particular direction,
like a madwoman.

When she ran, it was as if,

as if she couldn't recognise
where she was.

She crashed against the walls.

Like a hunted animal

that's reached the end
of the field, she crashed;

she went back, fell,
then ran again.

Leo represented my... strength.

I liked to go behind the prison
and throw myself down on the grass.

I imagined that Leo
was waiting for me

and that he needed to hug me too.

I imagined scenes with him.

How it would be when
I got to see him again,

mixed up at the same time
with a lot of fear

at the thought that he might
not recognise me...

That thought really
overwhelmed me.

I was already part of the prison

and felt some sense
of belonging to that place.

Just when I was beginning
to feel that way

something happened...

It was Saturday and
a "prison crier"

came to tell me
to go to the visiting booth

because my lawyer was there.

There were a lot of people
in the courtyard

and I lost the "prison crier".

Then somebody showed me a way.

It was like a really long passageway
and it was very dark.

When I got to the end

the door was closed.

I leaned against the wall

and opposite me

there was a boy who was like,

like 17 years old.

He was a migrant,
you could see it at once.

His hands were tied.

He looked at me,

I remember that I thought
about his eyes,

I thought they had the same look
as I had when I arrived.

I knew what he was feeling.

I asked him his name

and he said "Martin".

Just then, the door opened
and somebody pulled him in,

all I saw was that Martin
fell to his knees,

somebody in there

had a board in his hands.

That person

raised his hands

with the board in

to hit him.

And I closed my eyes.

When I opened them.

Martin was dead...

There was blood coming out
of his ears and mouth.

That man who was there with
the board was completely delirious

pacing this way and that

and there was a moment
where we looked at each other,

I looked him straight
in the eyes

and there was nothing
in his eyes.

Then, in the darkness,
I was able to make out

bodies piled up in there.

Everything became muffled,

I felt as

if something had broken in me,
something good.

Such fear...

That's what it's about.

My daughter was 20 when they took her.

It was a Tuesday.

I left home very early that day,

she was still in bed.

My husband says she left
at around ten in the morning.

She had gone to university,

she said goodbye to her dad,

asked him for some money
and left.

That afternoon,

one of her
fellow-students called us;

they were supposed to hand
in some work together,

and she told my other daughter
that Monica

hadn't turned up at school.

It was approximately
four in the afternoon.

The first thing I thought was
that there must have been

some kind of accident

and that she might be
in a hospital somewhere

or something like that.

My husband went out
to look for her.

When

my husband arrived home
very late

and told me...

that there was no news of her

not on the route she took
to school or in the hospitals,

that there was no information
about my daughter anywhere,

I lost my head because.

I was just jumping,

jumping, jumping

with all the desperation.

I was jumping
like a grasshopper.

Although my other children
were there.

I didn't see them.

The whole family mobilised,

we began looking
for Monica everywhere.

Her fellow-student
Jesus Martin Contreras,

who'd been her friend
throughout her degree,

was very involved.

He was in touch constantly
to find out

what news we had of Monica.

It was something
we found very striking.

A few days later,

they sent a message
demanding a ransom.

Telling us that
if we didn't pay it

they'd send her back
to us in pieces.

We found a way of getting
the FIA to come to us,

that's a police organisation.

They're supposed to be very good
at rescuing kidnap victims.

And, in fact,
they came to the house

installed some telephones.

They told us that
we couldn't go out

on the street now,

that we shouldn't take
phone calls from anybody,

and that we couldn't have people
coming round to the house.

And...

well, the days went by
we waited,

we waited for that call but

it never came.

The FIA was in my house
for around six months.

All that time,
they kept us there,

we couldn't go out,
couldn't investigate,

couldn't see anybody.

I didn't speak for about
three or four days.

I was thinking about
that man who was there

killing those people.

It was a confusion of...

But how come?

I already knew...

the worst that could happen
to me

and how.

And as my family isn't rich,

the time would come when they
wouldn't be able to pay any more.

I began to think weird things,
like that the solution was

to work for them.

I had to find a way
not to be on this side,

so vulnerable.

The most important thing
in my life was

to be back with Leo again.

When I managed to leave my cell.

I went to the tattoo artists' area
and there I was,

along with all the others,
with the same needle...

tattooing myself, just like them.

It was as if some
of my fear had gone, too.

I began to work out a way of
approaching these people and.

I talked to

a woman

who was

an important leader
in their organisation

and.

I happened to notice that
she liked music and had a guitar.

I often went to her cell
in the evenings to sing.

I began to befriend her.

Later, she told me
that once you belong

you don't have to pay
the quota any more.

And I actually started to think
that I was capable of doing things.

I'd never imagined,
I'd be able to do.

Once, I went into
a Catholic church

and kneeling,

praying,

I saw that man.

He was begging and praying
with such passion!

When he got up

he went towards a bench

and picked up a little girl
of about two

and carried her in his arms.

I became a bit obsessed with him,

went looking for him,

stood there watching
what he was doing.

I'd often see him eating
in the canteen.

When I saw him carrying
his daughter

sharing out his food
among his family...

Just like any father!

I thought a great deal about
how he came to do that...

to do that work, or...

or what process he went through

to be able to
kill so many people and

carry on living as normal.

I wanted him to look me
in the eyes,

to know that I had seen him.

But no,

it never happened.

We've spent many years now,
looking for my daughter.

It's been a very tough struggle,

very painful.

It's been ten years.

The authorities

have extorted money from us,
they've lied to us.

All this time,

all the information
we have gathered,

makes us think she's held by
a network of people traffickers.

We know that Jesus was the one
who handed her over,

Monica's university friend,

and we know she was taken
by the sons of federal police.

The FIA, federal police,
security forces,

every so often their name
is changed

but they're the same people.

It's taken a long time for me
and my family

to accept that they may have
taken her to prostitute her,

or something like that.

Even the thought of it

is very,

very hard to bear.

The absence of a child drives
you out of your mind,

You want to know there's
a little light somewhere there...

she'll come back,

they'll bring her back.

I've always longed for that
moment where they say to me

she's in a certain place,

your daughter.

The family I made for myself

has changed completely

because

some time back, we had
to leave our home,

we've spent time apart.

We live in hiding as if
we were the criminals.

In a way, we could say
we've gone underground

because we're facing
death threats.

This policeman's son and his group

have threatened us directly
on the phone

saying that
if we don't stop our search,

if we don't agree to
just forget everything

they're going to kill us.

But at this point,

at this stage in life, in this situation.

I'm not afraid.

I prefer

to go out and search.

Death

no longer troubles me.

I would like to tell her
that I am waiting for her.

I want to see her smile.

Hear her voice again.

I'm waiting for her with
arms wide open,

to hug her again.

And wherever she might be,
I want her to know

that we won't stop until
she comes back to us.

A month after Martin was killed.

I got out.

It was a feeling of...

happiness and

also a lot of sadness too.

The FIA knew that the jail
was self-governing.

I passed from the hands
of the police

into the hands of the Cartel.

The police handed me over.

I'm going home, just like that?

With all the deaths,

all the pain.

When I eventually...

faced the fact of being alone
in my home with my son.

I began

to shut myself in.

I thought that...

if I left my house,
they'd arrest me again,

they'd kidnap me.

I couldn't be in places where
there were a lot of people any more.

Somebody else had to take Leo
to school because.

I was no longer able to.

That thing that happens to me,
the trembling,

which has been happening
since Martin was killed,

it's a trembling
that I can't control,

my whole face falls apart.

Sometimes I even catch myself
talking to him.

Martin is still here,

with me.

For many months
I slept with Leo in my arms.

He got used to sleeping like that,
the two of us, feeling afraid.

But there was a point

when I realised

what I was doing to my son.

I realised that I couldn't let
the damage spread to him.