The Three Deaths of Marisela Escobedo (2020) - full transcript

Follows a mother's tireless crusade to jail her daughter's murderer after Mexico's justice system failed to do so.

Good afternoon, my name is
Marisela Escobedo Ortiz.

I'm Rubí Marisol Fraire Escobedo's mother.

I'm no longer afraid of anything.

I'm no longer afraid of death, which is
the worst that could happen to me.

I've faced the authorities,
I've faced the governor,

I've faced anyone and everyone
I've come across.

Wherever my daughter may be,

I want her to know that I love her,

and that I'll never rest
until she gets justice.


I wouldn't wish my wail of pain
on anyone else.

Ciudad Juárez has been named
the world's most dangerous city.

Being a woman in this city
seems to carry a death sentence.

My daughter is gone now,

but I'm here to speak for her
and defend her rights.



Thousands across the country
have joined her search.

He'll never sleep peacefully.

Even if it takes me a lifetime,
I'm going to find him.

The men who are
used to inflicting violence on women

will learn that sentences
aren't only written on paper.

REWARD $250,000

My name is Juan Manuel Fraire Escobedo.

I'm 42 years old.

I'm from Ciudad Juárez.


I'm the son of Marisela Escobedo.

We were seven in my family.

My mom, my dad, Rubí, Pablo,
Jessica, Alejandro, and myself.

From youngest to oldest.

Why don't you say a few words
for your son?

I'm very happy, God bless him,
and I wish him every joy.

That's it, don't get crazy.

Our family was very close.

If I had to go to work,
my oldest daughter would cook,

and the boys
would look after their sisters,

because I worked nights as a nurse.

I love all my siblings,

but Rubí was the youngest,
she was the baby of the house.

I took her everywhere with me,
because both my parents worked.


Rubí was very happy-go-lucky.

She was the youngest,
so we used to sing songs for her.

We kept singing as she got older,
just to annoy her.

She was wholesome, smart,

beautiful in my eyes
and the eyes of many others.

And then, you know, she hit puberty.

My mom had just opened
a woodshop and furniture store.


So, this guy showed up one day
looking for a job.

He had a wife and a daughter,
and he needed to work.

My mom told him that she wasn't hiring,

but she wanted to help him,
so she let him work for the day.

So, he stayed to work.

That guy was Sergio.

My nieces were studying over in El Paso.


But one summer, Rubí moved back
with my sister in Ciudad Juárez.

My daughter used to go everywhere with me.

She'd hang out sometimes
at the furniture store.

That's how she met this man,
Sergio Rafael Barraza.

At the time, Sergio must've been
eight or nine years older than her.

He was 20 or 21 years old,
while Rubí was only 13.

I objected to the relationship.

I consulted an attorney,

but I knew she'd never sign
any kind of affidavit against him.

Eventually, he took her to live with him.

He made her stay in the apartment
all day long,

therefore isolating her
from the rest of the family.

I balked at the fear
that my daughter would hate me

if I came between her
and the man she loved.

At that point,
I decided not to get involved,

but we agreed that her siblings
would keep in contact with her.

I always got along with him
and tried to be his friend.

We wanted better for our sister,
but she'd chosen him.

You have to stay out
of other people's lives.

Sometime later, Rubí got pregnant.
One or two years later.

Her pregnancy connected her
with my mom again.

The girl was born,

but this guy was unemployed,
it was clear he was struggling.

So my mom helped them out.

She started to drop by the house
and leave long after dark.

I figured they probably had
some money problems,

because she made sure
she ate every meal at my place.

Every night, I'd give her money,
maybe 50 or 80 pesos.

I immediately lent them
an apartment I used for storage.

I cleared it out
and told them they could stay there.

Apparently, everything was fine.

One day, I went to the apartment
where they were staying…

and they were gone.

My mom went looking for her
at Sergio's mother's place.

We went to the house,

and found Sergio there
with their daughter.

But Rubí wasn't there.

Alarm bells went off right there.
Rubí would never leave her kid.

Sergio came to the door,
I asked him about my daughter,

and he said she had left
with some other guy.

No way she would've left with a guy,
so I asked him for a name.

He wouldn't tell us.

We weren't getting anywhere,
so we decided to leave.

We came back the next day,

and Sergio wasn't there.
He was gone.

I had a really bad feeling.

Something wasn't right.


Being her mother,
I immediately started to search for her.

Red flags were going up.
Something had happened to her.

These are all connected
to organized crime.

President Felipe Calderón claims
Mexico isn't a failed state,

despite the drug cartels' growing power.

Officers from Chihuahua's
General Prosecutors' office

conducted raids on bars
and cafeterias in Ciudad Juárez.

Three men were arrested
on charges of human trafficking,

who forced women…

Juárez has a big problem
with missing women.

So, that was very much a possibility.


When we started searching for Rubí,

we spent many nights
scouting the bars downtown,

all the brothels.

We found girls as young
as 14, 15, 16 working at those places…

as prostitutes.

We searched everywhere.

At times, we ended up
in really dangerous places.

I was hoping to find her.

I wanted to find her
in one of those places.

But there was no sign of her.

It took my mom a month and a half
to be able to file a police report.

The cops insisted she had left.

They said there were
no signs of foul play.

I was under constant stress.
The whole thing was an ordeal.


I started all of if by myself,
the searches and inquiries.

I had to stumble, struggle,
and jump through hoops,

just to be able to file
a missing person report.


I spoke with the relatives,
I'll talk to you later.

-Will you give an interview?
-Yes, sure.

I served as District Attorney
for the state of Chihuahua

from 2004 to 2010.

We had a missing persons unit…


…so we opened an investigation
to try to find Rubí.

At the beginning of February,
there was an initiative

to circulate flyers with photos
of the missing women at the time.


REWARD $1,500,000

My family and I heard about it
and decided to join them.

We brought our own flyers,
dispersed, and handed them out.


We went to
the 16 de Septiembre neighborhood,

where Sergio Rafael Barraza lived,

and offered a reward to anyone
who had any information

about Rubí's disappearance.

I would tell my mom,
"Someone will speak up."

"If something happened,
someone will speak up."

One day, we got a call from a young man,

saying that he had information
about what had happened to Rubí.

This young man
was from Sergio's neighborhood.

He called my mom and asked her
if they could meet in person,

because he had to give her
some important information.

We were afraid to meet him,
thinking it could be dangerous

because of the reward we were offering.

He got in the truck,
scared out of his mind,

and told us to drive away.

He asked if I was Rubí's mom,
and I said yes.

His jaw was trembling,
that's how nervous he was.

He said, "What I have to say
is really awful."

Then, he started talking.

He was with a group of friends

hanging out in the neighborhood.

Sergio Rafael showed up, looking agitated.

He wanted someone
to help him haul some furniture.

He said that Sergio's brother,
Andy Alonso Barraza Bocanegra,

and some other guy went to help him.

Hours later, Sergio's brother
returned and told everyone…

"My brother," he said.
"He killed his girlfriend, Rubí."

Sergio Rafael came back soon after,

so the guys asked him if it was true.

"Yeah," he said, "I killed her."

"We dumped her body at the landfill."

"I put her in a garbage drum,

and I burned her."

I asked the boy
why he was telling me all this.

He explained that his sister
had been murdered,

so his mom urged him
to be brave and speak up.

My mom gathered all of us,

and she told us the news
with tears in her eyes.

It was a rude awakening.

We finally knew what happened,
but now we had to find proof.

He was reluctant, but my mom
talked him into giving a statement.

She got him to testify.

When he finally agreed to do it,
things started moving.

A case was formally opened,
and agents were assigned.

It wasn't until this happened
that they took it seriously

and finally started to search
for my daughter's body.

I kept breathing down their necks

because I was sure that without me there,
no one would do anything for her.

With this new information,
they did a formal search

to try to find Rubí's remains.

Our family did the first search,

together with our friends
who brought more volunteers.

Always with a glimmer of hope
that it was all a lie.

It's an area where people dump bones
and animal fat from pigs and cows.

It's a dump for animal waste and scraps.

It was really rough on me, really rough,

but my sister looked so strong.

I wasn't going to stop until I found her.

We did not find anything.

Not even a clue that would tell us

that my sister was there.

You can't have a murder investigation
without a body.

Marisela knew that the only one
who had any information…


…about what happened to Rubí,
the location of her body,

and her grandkid's whereabouts was Sergio.

But he went into hiding,
he was on the run.

My mom was the one who found him.

It wasn't the authorities,
it was all thanks to her research.

Someone sold the information to my mom.

The phone number of the house
he was living in.

So, two days later,
they were on their way to Fresnillo.

It was my mom, her partner,
my uncle Ricardo, and four agents.

She accused him of illegally
taking her granddaughter.

By law, he needed Rubí's permission,
and she was still considered alive.

So, it was a case of a man
crossing state lines with a minor.

Sergio was arrested
for the abduction of a minor,

but he immediately told the police,

"I know why you arrested me.
It's about Rubí."

"It wasn't me, I didn't kill her."

Chihuahua police found and arrested
Sergio Rafael Barraza Bocanegra,

who confessed to the murder
of Rubí Marisol.

The detectives were professional
and highly trained

and they got him to reveal
the location of Rubí's remains.

They brought Sergio back to Ciudad Juárez.

He confessed he had killed her
and dumped her by Camino Real,

near a landfill.

The alleged murderer of Rubí Marisol

led the authorities to the location
of her charred remains.

We had already searched
for Rubí's body everywhere,

but we didn't find anything
until he pinpointed the location.

They canvassed the area,

and they finally found Rubí's remains.

If Sergio hadn't led the cops there,
we never would've found her.

Even to this day,
we never would've found her.

Much later, we found out…

that three days before the murder,
Rubí had left him for good.

I think Rubí had finally realized

he wasn't the man she thought he was.

She told him she was leaving him,
so he killed her.

He killed her.

After this search,

I spent days walking around
that whole area by myself,

trying to find one more piece
of my daughter's body.

That day marks a "before"
and an "after" for me.

Seeing my mother there,
picking up the bones.

We found a little bone of hers,
I think it was a vertebrae.

A tiny bone, that's all.

Those were horror-filled days.

I realized that if anything
happened to me,

this man would end up back on the streets.

I couldn't understand why
that had to be my sister's grave.

Violent crimes against women
are out of control in Ciudad Juárez.

The issue of the missing women

first gained visibility in the '90s.

Later, they came to be known
as "the Dead Women of Juarez,"

because the concept of "femicide"
wasn't fully understood back then,

along with its meaning
and underlying substance.

The case files opened over a decade ago

remain unsolved to this day.

The history of Juarez is also
the ongoing history

of femicide, which does not stop.


After Sergio's arrest,

Marisela was granted custody
of her granddaughter.

The trial was set to begin.

He was to be the first woman killer
to be tried under this new system.

What many in Mexico don't know
is that the adversarial system

was first implemented in Chihuahua
to combat impunity in femicides.

And one of these cases was Rubí's.

My mom used to tell me,
"I won't let Rubí become a statistic."

"Even if it takes me a lifetime,
I won't let that happen."

One week before, she started marching
from the Prosecutor's Office…

to the city courthouse.

Wounded by the grim murder
of her daughter by her son-in-law,

Marisela Escobedo Ortiz undertook
protest walks for over a week,

demanding they throw the book
at the alleged murderer.

-What are your demands?
-Maximum sentence for the killer.

I won't settle for a lesser sentence.

He didn't only kill my daughter,
he destroyed a family.

He left my grandchild without a mom,
and denied my daughter's right to live.


-Another day, ma'am?
-Yes, another day.

-How many days to go?
-Two days, until Friday.

Now it's time for the trial,
scheduled for Monday at 10:00.

APRIL 2010

My name is Noel Rodríguez.
I'm with the Prosecutor's Office.

I worked on the investigation
and presented arguments at the trial…


…for the case
of Rubí Marisol Fraire Escobedo.

All rise for the judges.

We went into the courthouse,

and all I remember is
it was full of cameras.

Sergio's family was seated
on one side of the room,

and Marisela's on the other,
as well as supporters like us.

The witnesses were called to testify
according to their involvement,

starting with the testimony
of Mrs. Marisela Escobedo.

Do you know why you were called
to testify before this court?

Yes, I do.


I'm here to testify to the murder
of my daughter, Rubí Marisol Fraire.

I have full confidence in you.

I trust you'll study this case
and make the right decision.

Then, we heard the testimony
of the local cops involved in the case.


We responded to a call
from central dispatch

telling us to go to Delicias Station
to see to a complainant.

Upon interviewing him, he revealed that

his stepson had come to his house

in a state of agitation,

because he had just killed his wife.

Do you remember the name
of this complainant?

Rafael Gómez.

After Sergio Rafael committed the crime,
he asked for help to move the body.

To that end, he borrowed a vehicle
that belonged to his stepfather.

When his stepfather got home
and found out what happened,

he decided to inform the police.

When you talked to the police,
what did you tell the agents?


-Only that he'd hit her.
-Who had hit whom?

That Sergio had hit Rubí.
The cops went there to check,

but they didn't find anyone
at their address.

That's all I know.
I don't know anything else.

It was clear he amended his testimony

in order to cover up for
and favor his stepson.

We cross-examined him
to poke holes in his story,

and it was clear that his intervention
was aimed at aiding his stepson.

Will the Defense cross-examine?

-Go ahead.


-You went into the house, right?
-That's right.

-You didn't find a body, right?
-That's right.

-Did you find any blood?
-Blood? No.


-Did you check the whole house?
-We did.

-Did you find any bullet casings?

-The defense rests.
-Thank you, counselor.

The confidential witness testified

that Sergio showed up that day

and told them he'd taken the life
of his live-in girlfriend.

-Please state your full name.
-Angel Gabriel Valles Maciel.

What else can you tell us
about this sequence of events?

Sergio told us he'd killed his wife.

That he burned her.

And that he and his brother
took her over by Camino Real,

beyond the landfill.

How did you learn about this?

He told us.

We were sitting around a fire
and he told us what he'd done.

Then, the forensic anthropology
and archaeology experts

corroborated the statements
made by the confidential witness.


The bones are human.

They belong to a single individual,
a young female.

Did you find any signs of violence
on these bones?

Yes, we did.

The fire, the position the bones
were found in.

This is a very particular case.

All right, thank you.

You may address the court
if you wish, ma'am.

Please lean close to the mic
if you wish to speak.

-You have the floor.
-Good morning, Your Honor.

-Good morning.
-Yes, I wish to say a few words.

Go ahead.

I apologize if my gaze wanders
towards Mr. Rafael Barraza,

Sergio Rafael Barraza,
since I have to address him.

This man, Your Honor,
took the life of my daughter.

First, he used deception to take her away,

to keep her under his yoke.

Today, I am full of regret
for not taking her away from him.

It would've been easier for me
to deal with her hatred

only temporarily, though,
because she'd get over it,

than to live under the burden
of this pain, Your Honor.


I searched for her, Your Honor,
expecting to find her buried,

because I thought that
this man had loved her,

and that he'd buried her
somewhere he could mourn her.

But he didn't.

He dumped her and burned her.

He cast her like pearls to swine.

You know what, Sergio?
I don't forgive you.

May God forgive you.

That is, if you ever feel remorse,
because I know you haven't yet.

We don't know, Your Honor,
the actual cause of death,

but I'm glad because I'm not sure
I could stand that other pain.

Let him keep it.

Don't let him give a statement,
we've had enough of his trash.

I know that one day, we'll get better.

One day, we'll finish therapy.

One day, we'll smile again,
because life demands it.

This man hasn't destroyed my life.

He destroyed my heart, my hope,
my faith and my beliefs.

But I will pull through
for my granddaughter.

After today, like I said,
this man no longer exists for me.

I leave him to you. Thank you very much.

We thank Mrs. Marisela Escobedo Ortiz.

The law affords the same right
to Mr. Sergio Barraza Bocanegra.

Please lean closer to the mic.
You have the floor. Go ahead.

Please lean as close as you can
to the microphone.

Okay, I'll say something.

I know, this is for Mrs. Marisela,

that the pain caused can't be undone.

I know that she has said
she doesn't forgive me.

But I want to apologize, Marisela,
because I know it was a great harm.

It's true, like you said, where was God?

Unfortunately, I didn't know God,
but I've now found God in jail.


I have no words. That's all.

We thank everyone
who took part in this trial.

The debate portion is hereby concluded.

The court will now deliberate in private,

and the parties will reconvene
for the verdict reading

at precisely 1330 in this same courtroom.



We went outside for the recess.

We were all saying
that justice would prevail.



We got back into the courtroom
and the judges read their verdict.

Ciudad Juárez, Chihuahua,
April 29th, 2010.

The court has convened
and reached the following decision…

The court unanimously acquits
Sergio Rafael Barraza Bocanegra

of the accusation against him
as the perpetrator…



"Here's to many more! God bless you."

It's from Alejandra, Valeria,
Paty, and Toño.

Your godparents.

My mom was born in Piedras Negras,
Coahuila, Mexico.

That's where she met my dad
and they got married.

She went to nursing school.

When she finished school,

she was offered a job
at the new state hospital

that had been built in Ciudad Juárez.
That's why we moved there.

And that's when our family
started growing.

My sister was always happy.

She loved to dance and she loved music.

I could always make her laugh.

My mom was a go-getter, very hardworking.

If she saw an opportunity,
she would go for it.

She was always aware of her kids,

how we were doing, what we were up to.


She was a generous person,
she was very…

She was a go-getter.
Nothing stood in her way.

She could sell brimstone to the devil
and snow to an Eskimo.

One time, we decided to throw
a kids' costume party.

She had everyone in stitches.

It was the way she looked
and acted so natural.

She was wearing a wig, a big nose,
and clown make up.

It was a wonderful party,
the children had a blast.

Mari had three boys,
but she always wanted a girl.

She always wanted a girl.

Eventually, Rubí and Jessica
came into her life,

and her life changed forever.

She never looked happier.

In this photograph,
here's Rubí and Marisela.

This was the last vacation
we took with Rubí.

With my niece, you know?

We went to Acapulco.

We were planning Rubí's
15th birthday party.

After what happened to Rubí,

Marisela was completely different.

She had a vacant expression,
her gaze was empty.

Her quest for justice was the only thing
that was keeping her going.

Seeing my friend break down,
I wouldn't wish it on anybody.

On anybody.

I had never seen my mom
break down before that day.

Or after, for that matter.
That was the first and only time.

She had collapsed on a couch
at the courtroom.

There were so many thoughts
racing through my mind.

I just wanted to kill Sergio,
you know what I mean?

I wanted revenge, that's what I wanted.

He was surprised. He didn't understand.

He was sure he'd be found guilty.

People in Ciudad Juárez,
including the public at large,

everyone was outraged.

Four or five hours later,

Marisela was already planning
her steps for the next day.

We all automatically got ready
to march in protest.

The mother of the murdered girl
and some of her family members

took to the streets today
to march in protest.

Yesterday, those judges
murdered her again.

They killed her all over again
with their verdict.


It was a circus.

They made clowns of us,
and they had the last laugh.

Ha, ha, ha! You wanted justice?
Ha, ha, ha!

Mr. Sergio Rafael Barraza Bocanegra
was acquitted

because the prosecution
failed to meet the burden of proof…


…to prove beyond a reasonable doubt
his involvement in the murder.

Unfortunately, the case fell upon
three incompetent people.

Three justice employees,
because they can't be called judges.

They absolved the murderer
by "unanimous" decision,

but I've said it over and over,
it was a pusillanimous decision.


We can't let any more young women
get murdered in our city.

Mrs. Marisela Escobedo Ortiz
marched naked today,

covered only with a photo
of her daughter Rubí Marisol.

They left me naked,
with no guarantees, no rights.

They stripped me of the right
to defend my daughter.

Here's a man going around
saying he killed a girl,

who on the last day of the trial
apologized to the mother.

-How do you interpret it?
-We must abide by the law.


When I took this office, I swore an oath

to abide by the laws
established in the Constitution,

not to do what I want,
or follow my feelings.

We urgently need to know
if the judges exonerated him

because they're corrupt,
or if Chihuahua's government

is treating these judges as scapegoats.

Marisela Escobedo Ortiz
claimed she will not rest

until her daughter's murderer
is once again behind bars.

If they fail me again,
I'll stay right here.

I'll take the next step.

It's true we didn't have an eyewitness
or hard scientific evidence,

but if we take into consideration
all the evidence presented,

it's safe to conclude
that he participated in the crime.

Besides, no one apologizes
for something they didn't do.


For years, confession was the best proof.

However, many confessions
were coerced through torture.

After the 2008 reform
to our justice system,

confessions lost their status
as incontrovertible proof.

Confessions are no longer valid
if they're self-incriminatory,

especially if they were obtained
without a lawyer present.

Unlike other types of murders,
those that take place at home

usually have no witnesses
and leave no proof.

But here they had enough information
to determine what had happened.

I first met Marisela
on the day of the trial,

when her daughter's killer was acquitted.


Counselor Lucha Castro and I
were in Ciudad Juárez.

Marisela approached us,

and she asked Counselor Lucha

to represent her.

We became close, very close.


When I got the case, I had two recourses.

Either request a new trial,
or get the ruling reversed.

If I'd found something wrong
with the trial,

I would've requested a new one
to call the witnesses again.

But given what I had seen
in the case file,

and from reading the transcripts
of the trial hearings,

the only choice
was to get the ruling reversed.

That's why I filed a motion
before the Appeals Court.

We're not asking for much,
all we want is justice.

There's no question
this man took my sister's life.

The Appeals Court unanimously decided

to declare null and void the acquittal
of Sergio Rafael Barraza Bocanegra.

They found him guilty of murder
in the case of Rubí Fraire Escobedo.

The government cleaned its image
and printed a sentence in paper.

But it's useless to me
because it's only a piece of paper.

The perpetrator, the murderer
is still a fugitive of justice.

She had a clear goal,
to find Sergio Rafael Barraza.

He fled the state right away
because he knew they'd arrest him.

He knew it wouldn't last.

Now that there was a guilty verdict,

the police had supposedly
sent an APB to every state,

to warn them about this fugitive
and to request apprehension.

The police weren't making
any headway whatsoever,

so we got to work again.

My plan is to reach Mexico City,

together with other mothers
of missing young women

who are in as much pain as I am.

She undertook a protest journey
across the entire country.

She went to every prosecutor's office
saying, "Here's an arrest warrant."

"This man killed my daughter,
he's a convicted felon,

and he might be here."

She got out at the city limits
and started walking to the city.

This attracted the media.

Sometimes, the authorities
refused to see her,

so she waited them out
until they agreed to meet with her.

Everywhere we went,
towns, cities, or whatever,

they didn't know anything
about the case, nothing.

We communicated with other departments,

and every prosecutor's office
knew of his arrest warrant.

"Search for him in your state,

and send him over if you find him."
That's an all-points bulletin.

We get thousands of those

from every office in the country.
Barraza's was just one.


I don't want my daughter's death
to be in vain.

The men who are used
to inflicting violence on women

will learn that sentences
aren't only written on paper.

There's no going back.

They asked laborers,

and went to all the bars
he might've frequented.

Marisela was going undercover,
despite the risk.

She was there with her family
and others who sought justice.

After a little over three weeks,
we arrived in Mexico City.

My mom requested a meeting
with President Felipe Calderón.


But of course,
he refused to meet with her.

What is this march about?

This is a protest march against femicide
and human trafficking.

We demand justice.

We've walked from Ciudad Juarez
to one city after the other,

handing out wanted posters…


After what happened with Rubí,
when Sergio was arrested in Fresnillo,

he was already seeing some girl
roughly the same age as Rubí.

My mom was sure he was there

because his girlfriend was pregnant,

and if he couldn't stay here,
that's where he'd go.

They finally went to Zacatecas,
where Marisela first found him.

We're touring a bunch of cities,
following leads, doing protest walks.

I want people to know he's a murderer.

Funny, his current girlfriend's mom
is also named Marisela, just like me.

He'll always remember me
and know that I will always be after him.

I'll keep searching no matter what,
all over the country.

If I have to live on the road, so be it.

We went straight to the place
where they arrested Sergio.

I was hanging up a poster
when two girls walked over.

I figured they recognized him,
so I started explaining.

Then, my mom came over and talked to them.

She asked them to help us.

One of them said that her cousin
was his current girlfriend,

and that she knew where he was staying.

Marisela had found out
exactly where he was,

so she called the police
and said, "He's here."

My mom tried to explain the case,
and then she called Chihuahua.

They came in through the front,
but there was an empty lot in the back.

I ran to the back of the house
and when I looked up,

I saw Sergio climbing out
of the bathroom window.

There were some stairs
that led to the roof.

My adrenaline started pumping.

He started running, and as he
ducked to hide, he spotted me.

His face looked like someone
who knows he's been caught.

A police chase ensued
and shots were fired.

They told Marisela, "We got him."

But later told her,
"Never mind, he escaped."

The suspect was armed…


…and he fired at the police officers.

We cordoned off the area,
but we were unable to locate him.

Once the cops knew he had escaped,

that's when the federal police
and the military showed up.

They were lining the block,
they even fired some shots.

They fired a few shots,
but it was just for show.

He was long gone.

Mistakes were made during
the arrest procedure.

Looks like he got a heads-up and he fled.

But they were very close to arresting him.

Mom felt that they were simply
not doing anything.

They asked her, "Was he hard to find?"

And she said, "No, he was exactly
where I thought he would be."

It was a poorly conducted operation.

A failed operation.

It didn't happen during my tenure,
but the previous state prosecutor's.

Marisela's anger, already considerable,

reached a whole new peak,
as you can imagine.

I felt so impotent.

I couldn't believe he got away
after we'd found him again.

Let's say the authorities intended
to capture him with this information.

They still botched the arrest
because they didn't care.

The cops didn't call for backup
because they wanted the reward.

They couldn't claim the reward,
because that was their job.

They still refused
to request more backup.

When Mrs. Marisela came to see me
at the Prosecutor's Office,

I was overseeing 500 officers.
Many hadn't finished high school.

None of them had been evaluated
for trustworthiness.

Was the police force trustworthy
back in those days?

Certainly not.

I watched my mom read the file,
just staring at the bones.

She read the same things
over and over again.

I didn't know how she managed.
I mean, this was her daughter.

She told me she'd force herself
to think it was someone else.

"I don't think it's Rubí,
I think it's someone else."

But she had weak moments.

In public, you're strong,
you just power through it.

But in private,
that's when my mom would break down.

That's when she buckled under
all those unanswered questions.

There was nothing I could say,
all I could do was be there.

Just be there for her.

After this, we stayed in Fresnillo
for one or two weeks,

looking for him in every single town.

We were on his trail.

But then we heard rumors
that he had joined the Zetas cartel.

We figured they were only trying
to scare us off.

They built a network of neighbors
to get more information,

and they found the new house
where Sergio was staying.

So, they rented a nearby house

with a clear view of Sergio's house,

and set up a permanent watch to stalk him.

We stayed in Fresnillo, waiting, waiting.

A month went by, then two,
and we had nothing.


We heard he was there,
that's what people told us.

It was a waiting game.

Keeping watch.

Two or three months went by
and we'd gotten nowhere.

Back then, my mom drove
a little green Jetta.

We used binoculars,
just like in the movies.

Except this was a horror movie.

We had to keep watch
over those long nights.

Mom and I would stay in the car
until 4:00 or 5:00 a.m.

I would've recognized Sergio
from miles away.

I didn't need binoculars
to know it was him.

They went into a side street,
and when we turned,

his truck was facing us, headlights on.

He knew it was us following him.

He knew our car. He'd seen it before.

Given the truck he was driving,
I realized it was very likely

that he was now working for the cartel.

That's when we knew
we were in real danger.

We thought they might come after us.

They knew the two phone numbers
that Sergio Rafael was using.

So Marisela went through the call records.

He kept his phone off for three days
and on for two days.

There were no calls for three days
and several calls the next two.

That's how the Zetas cartel works.

This pattern made us realize
that he was really a member of the Zetas.

He didn't go by Sergio anymore.
Now he was "Commander Bambino."

He kept changing it, like a stage name.

As we were out looking for Sergio,
we found someone who knew him.

My mom started talking to her
and she spilled the beans.

She gave her information
we weren't even looking for,

like the location of a safehouse,
the name of the guy at the top,

even the location of weapon caches.
Much more than we bargained for.

The agents said they needed
the Zetas' permission…

in order to roll into town to arrest him.

If the Zetas didn't turn him in,
they couldn't arrest him.

He had apparently become
someone with certain power.

And he did have ties
to the Zetas drug cartel.

My uncle Ricardo and I
spoke to my mom separately.

I told her that this information
complicated everything.

Now that he worked for the cartel,
things were no longer the same.

Everyone knows that there's an arrangement

between the authorities
and criminal organizations.

We weren't getting any kind of support.

No cameras, no agents,
no taking our calls, nothing.

Absolutely no support.

Eventually, we came to realize
that we would never find him.

We went back to Chihuahua,
to a new governor,

and a new state prosecutor.

During election season,
violence tends to spike.

César Duarte won on a platform
focused on public safety.


I begin my administration
with one fundamental goal.

To be remembered in the end

as the governor who was able
to bring order to Chihuahua.


His inauguration was over the top,
like a huge block party.

Lights all over the place,
and in the streets.

People are cheering happily,
welcoming César Duarte.

He goes to the edge of the stage
to greet the crowd.

Once we got back,
my mom decided to camp out

right outside the Government Palace.


She had already marched
all over the country.

She had been to the capital.
She had even found Sergio.

She had exhausted every resource.

What else could she do?
She decided to camp out.

She started on December 5th.

I commuted back and forth from Juárez,
but my uncle stayed with her.


Is the killer still in Mexico?

Yes, and he's about to become
the hunter and I the hunted.

He expects me to go into hiding now,

but I refuse to hide.
He can come kill me here.

Has he made any threats?

Yes, he and his family
have made threats against me.

He's already working
with a criminal organization.

What's the government waiting for?
For him to kill me?

He can kill me, but it has to be here.

The only things she hadn't done
were illegal for her to do.

She wasn't scared for herself,
but the law didn't permit it,

and she chose to act lawfully.


Chihuahua University's anniversary
is on December 8th.

During her sit-in, she heard that
Governor Duarte was coming,

so she got one of her banners
and took it to the press event.

As the governor gave his speech,
they got up and unfurled it.

"Justice is a privilege
of the government."

This alluded to the kidnapping
of Patricia González's brother.

In that case, it took them days
to find the kidnappers.

When César Duarte's nephew was kidnapped,
same thing happened.

Justice is only reserved
for government officials.

In the prosecutor's brother's case,
they had the killers in two weeks.


How was your brother's case handled,
and why did it anger Marisela?

I have no idea why it bothered Marisela,

since my brother's case
was completely unrelated.

When she unfurled the banner,

you could tell Duarte was pissed.

He had no tolerance for criticism,
constructive or otherwise.

So, for the mother of a victim,
and a woman on top of that,

to expose him like that,

with such strength and force,

and with the information she had,

he obviously didn't take it well.

Angry, the governor sent her to see
the state attorney, Carlos Salas.


He asked if she wanted to make
a report with her information.

She said yes.

So, she began.

In the state of Zacatecas,
in the city of Fresnillo…

In the street, he received…

She shared all the information
she had uncovered.

Everything she'd done.



Who knows how long they were in there.


Then she went back
to her sit-in at the plaza.

The AG gave us his word.

I believed their promises once again.

I want to believe they'll do it
and that they'll do it soon.

Sadly, we've gotten similar assurances
from previous administrations,

but there have been no results so far.

I don't distrust the AG.
I hope he keeps his word.

I hope they do it this time,
but I'll be waiting right here.

We were planning on spending
Christmas and New Year's there,

Uncle Ricardo, my mom, and me,

until something happened.
Something had to happen.

She seemed strong to me,
but she did break down at times.

She would tell me
she was tired of all that shit.

In those words.

Starting with the governor
and everyone below him.

We know that there is justice
in this country and this state.

Why? Because justice exists
for Governor César Duarte.

REWARD $100,000

It exists for former prosecutor
Patricia González.

Whenever we went to the square,
we stopped to check on her.

We also tried to convince her
to declare a truce.

A truce over the holidays,
mostly for her mental health,

so she could get her strength back,
but there was no dissuading her.

There was no power on Earth
that could shake her decision.

DECEMBER 16, 2010

Being there was so dangerous,
especially at night,

particularly since Sergio was now
being protected by the cartel.

That day, on December 16th,

she was knitting some black
Christmas decorations,

and she said she'd wait for the 25th
to buy a Christmas tree,

because they would be cheaper
by that time.

She was adamant that she'd spend
Christmas at the square.

That night, like every night,

she started to tidy up the camp
at 8:00 p.m.

A car pulled up.

She saw him coming.

She ran across the street.

And he shot her.


I called my siblings
and went to the house.

I didn't know how to feel. I couldn't cry.

I felt impotence, frustration,
I don't know how to explain it.

I gathered my siblings,

and we went to Chihuahua that night
to claim my mom's body.

We were shattered.
It's very hard to describe.

It still makes me cry.

I wasn't shocked at the time
because I'd seen it coming.

I knew that would happen.

But I hoped against hope
that things would be different.

There is outrage over the murder
of Mrs. Marisela Escobedo Ortiz,

who was killed last night.

She was killed as she protested
in front of the Government Palace

to demand the arrest
of her daughter's murderer.

Marisela Escobedo, a mother who fought
to get justice for her daughter's death,

was gunned down in front
of Chihuahua's government building.

We have César Duarte on the line.
Governor, good morning.

-Good morning, Carlos.
-Governor, what happened?

What information did you get
from the video?

We got her brother's statement,
who witnessed the crime.

He gave us a physical description,
and we're looking for the perp.

Marisela, hear this,
we support your fight!


Marisela, hear this,
we support your fight!

Marisela, hear this,
we support your fight!

The greatest woman in Juárez!
The one and only!

My mother! Marisela Escobedo Ortiz!

-Marisela lives!
-The fight goes on!

Society's outrage had reached
a tipping point,

which resulted
in important demonstrations,

like lighting candles
all around the Government Palace.

People would leave their candles
and then go home.

It was cold that day.

The atmosphere felt different,
as if the city had ground to a halt.

Even if you'd never met her,
even if you only knew of her,

even if you'd seen her from afar,
she felt close to all of us.

There was a great outpouring
of affection for her,

as well as indignation and fear.

I saw the video for the first time
in Chihuahua.

It's rough seeing someone you love
get killed like that.


I don't know how to explain it,
but it's very fucking rough.


That was it. My mom was dead.

Marisela Escobedo Ortiz returned
to Ciudad Juarez in a hearse.

The casket, escorted by her sons
and the state police,

was welcomed by friends
and residents at the city limits.

We are all gathered here…

to bid farewell to my mom's remains,
because she is no longer here.

Her body is here with us,

but her essence is now with the Lord.

She fought to her last breath
and died on the frontlines.

Like my brother said, our mom was a hero,

because she did things that
no one in the city had ever done.

She fought on her own,

against rain and thunder.

Even when she seemed like
she would break down,

like when my sister's killer was released,

she got up again…

and taught us a lesson in fortitude.

I ask all of you to give my mom
a big round of applause.

When you have doubts
about what you should do,

when you have questions
about how to stand and fight,

remember Marisela Escobedo.



That day and that night
seemed to stretch forever.

I only got a few hours of sleep.
The next day, we woke up,

and I left with my wife and kid.
My wife was pregnant.

We saw something burning in the distance.

A woodshop is on fire.

Boulevard Oscar Flores
had to be shut down completely.

Firemen are still working.

My mom's boyfriend was the one
who always opened the woodshop,

but he didn't do it that day
because of what had happened.

They took my mom's boyfriend's brother
and burned it down.

They burned it down to the ground.


His name was Manuel.

One or two hours later,
they found his body

with a bag over his head
and wire around his neck.

I also found out that
they'd come looking for me.

Some people had shown up after I had left.

They tried to break in.
They were coming for me.

That's when I realized

the danger that all of us were in.

We had to leave. We could no longer stay.


Marisela Escobedo's son
requested political asylum in the US,

fearing for his life
after his mother's murder.

Someone gave them my card,
told them to call me,

and drove them over the bridge.


"What about our belongings?
What about our businesses?"

The federal cops replied,
"You're lucky to be alive."

That was the message
they were sending Juan's family.

"You're alive, fuckers, leave it alone."

When you expose the flaws
in the government and the system,

and the link between the government
and cartels,

your life is at risk.

The issue here and in Juárez
is that in the same precinct,

you can have ten cops
gathered around a table,

and three criminal organizations
represented there as well.

I've said this before
and I'll say it again.

Marisela signed her own death sentence

when she gave a statement
at the AG's office in Chihuahua.

I think that was the moment

when they decided to take her out
to bury the information she had.

It's a crime of the state,
because the state "benefitted,"

despite the initial backlash,

when such an outspoken
and demanding critic died.

Those who aim to muddy the waters

those who say that what happened,
which is painful for all of us,

could be called a state crime,
are sorely mistaken.

The governor of Chihuahua
has no ties to criminal groups!

The killers must've known

they could kill her that night
with total impunity,

at the door of the palace,
with all the lights on,

and on camera.

It was sanctioned
if not outright ordered by the state.

She wasn't protected.
They left her all alone.

She was camping out there
because she had no recourse.

They weren't even investigating
or helping Marisela find Sergio.

Marisela wouldn't have died
if we'd kept investigating.

But my term was long over.
Our tenures only last six years.

It was easier to kill her
than to arrest Sergio. Much easier.

But what they didn't know
is that they couldn't silence her.

I knew it wasn't over.

I knew this wasn't done yet.

I told him…

I'd become the legal arm of his struggle,

as long as he kept up the fight.

I decided to keep up the fight,
but from U.S. soil.

I'll do it across the border
and see what happens.


They don't want green cards.
These people want justice.

We've seen the Mexican government's
dirty tricks here and in Mexico.


We want to demand publicly
that they see what we're doing.

It will be awkward for them,
they'll be angry,

but we're not here to make friends,
we're here to get justice.



A worldwide protest took place today

to denounce Marisela's murder.

Stop violence against women!


The political cost for Chihuahua's
new administration was very high.

It faced a challenge since someone
had been murdered at their door.

After meeting with the AG himself,
denouncing the governor,

and embarrassing the state prosecutor,
she'd been killed at their door.

Not to mention society's outrage.
So, there was a great need

to prove their capacity

to deal with a case like this.

-Is there any progress?
-We have made great strides.

Many new discoveries
have been added to the case file.

We hope that this case
will soon be closed.

-What about Sergio Barraza's case?
-It's the same case.

It's very likely that they were instructed

to finally close the case,
given all the uproar.

The authorities announced
they'd caught Marisela's killer,

and that they had evidence to prove it.

José Enrique Jiménez Zavala,
aka Wicked, has been detained.

He's the alleged killer
of activist Marisela Escobedo.

We have finally concluded
a long investigation,

culminating in the arrest

of the material perpetrator.

I'm responsible for taking the life
of Mrs. Escobedo.

I was following orders
from the criminal group I belong to.

They presented this man
as my mom's murderer,

and charged him with other crimes,
like shooting up a bar.


I worked as a public defender
for the state of Chihuahua.

-What is your name?
-Perla Márquez, public defender.

Originally, he told me,

"I killed her. I want this over with.
And that's that."

What can you tell us
about the first photograph?

I'm next to the Government Palace.

As I got close to her, my gun jammed.

I chased after her.

I imagine that this is
when I reloaded the gun.

In 26, I imagine that's when
I caught up and shot her.

We have all this and evidence
from the other murders.

He confessed, and the gun is the same.

We have brought charges
with total confidence.

I want to take responsibility
for what I did,

and pay for the consequences
of my choices, as they say.

Marisela's lawyer doesn't believe
he is the murderer.

He uses terms like,
"I deprived her of her life."

Criminals usually say, "I killed her,"
or, "I took her out."

Who confesses to murder
completely unprompted?

The ones who have to prove guilt
are the prosecutor's office.

What concrete proof could they have?

This whole thing rested on his confession.

They only proved the gun killed her.

They didn't prove he fired it,
and there's a difference.

The family once again
raised a cry of alarm.

"You have the wrong man.
This case isn't solved."

Marisela's brother, Ricardo,
denies that Zavala is the killer,

because he was with her
and saw the killer up close.

I couldn't identify him
because I wasn't there,

but Ricardo was.

And Ricardo told me that
he'd never forget the guy's face.

The composite drawing
shows many similarities

with the man they presented,
but he's not my mom's killer.

Marisela Escobedo's killer
is Andy Barraza.

Andy is Sergio's brother,
the man who killed Rubí, Juan's sister.

This is a picture
of Andy Barraza Bocanegra.

I met Andy
sometime before Rubí was murdered.

He had just been released from juvie.

Ricardo never met Andy.

He had never seen him before that night.

Marisela Escobedo filed a report
with the Chihuahua's AG's office,

accusing Andy Barraza of showing up
at her home to gun her down.

Andy had been telling people
in his neighborhood

that he was going to kill my mom.
He said, "I'm going to fuck her up."

We gave this information to the PGR.

To Mr. César Peniche.


We chatted briefly with him.


We got some extra information
and scheduled a formal statement.

We demanded they conduct
a photographic line-up.

There was a photo of Andy
among all those pictures.

And Ricardo positively
identified him as the killer.


-Did you kill her?
-Yes, sir, I did.

Are you certain of that?
Is there any doubt?

Is there a chance you were on drugs

and you thought you did it
but someone else did?

I was on drugs all the time,
but I was fully aware.

The family insisted it wasn't Wicked
and pointed to the real killer,

but the prosecutors
ignored their information.

They dismissed it entirely,
didn't even include it in the file.

Their media strategy was about
hammering down on Wicked.


Everything changed one day
when he told me, "Enough."

"I can't go along with this anymore,
because I didn't kill her."

He was tortured into confessing
to the murders he was charged with.

They made threats
against his wife and child.

So, he agreed to say whatever they wanted.

I immediately informed
the judge about this,

and requested the initiation
of the Istanbul Protocol.

This protocol is a test to determine
whether someone was tortured.

I told him that I thought
we should go to trial.

I thought we could mount
a successful defense.

Keep in mind, Marisela's brother
was there when she was killed,

so we had an actual witness.

We did our due diligence
as we prepared for the trial.

If the state charges someone
despite contrary evidence,

it must be proved in court,
but he'd get exonerated.

On December 31st, 2014,
the AG's office announced

that Wicked had died
from a massive heart attack.

Wicked's mother demanded
an autopsy of her son's body.

So they had to admit it was all a lie.

Authorities walked back their statement
about Wicked's cause of death.

They revealed he didn't die
from a heart attack.

Rather, he was strangled by his cell mate,

one Jaime Noel Cuevas, alias "Jimmy."

He was murdered inside
a maximum security penitentiary.

I realized that
even if I gave them all the evidence

right there in their hands
that someone else did it,

it wouldn't mean anything.
They didn't care for the truth.

We need transparency

from the authorities involved back then.

Is the case still open, sir?
Is Marisela's murder under investigation?

Or is the case closed?

As I remember, the case ended

with Wicked being charged.

With the death of this individual
and his possible accomplice,

the matter was concluded.

You're fighting a losing battle,
you know what I mean?

That day, as I stood next to
my mother's casket,

I promised her I would do
everything I could

to get justice for Rubí.

And that's what I did.

But I had to accept that I couldn't
spend my life in that pursuit.

I was completely drained,
mentally and emotionally.

You think hatred is all you have left.

At first it seems like a driving force,
but then it gnaws at you.

I wasn't happy. I couldn't be at peace.

I'd wake up each morning
and think about my mom.

I'd think about Andy and Sergio.

One of the most wanted men
in the state of Chihuahua is dead.

The state prosecutor confirmed the death
of Sergio Rafael Barraza.

After lying unidentified for six days
at Zacatecas' morgue,

Barraza's body was identified
and claimed by his wife.

Barraza was killed by soldiers
in a gunfight on November 16th.

He was gunned down
because of his criminal activities.

But it was not a result of an arrest.

He didn't serve the 50-year sentence
that Marisela had fought for.

He was the only man responsible
for Rubí's murder.

As for the case tied to him
which he masterminded,

the actual perpetrator
has also been arrested.

Marisela's case was closed.

Sergio Barraza was dead, so it was closed.

That speaks volumes
in terms of the concept of justice

for the authorities
and the current government.

Case closed.

We drove down to El Paso
and talked about Andy.

I singled him out as the man
my uncle had identified.

But the prosecutors never acknowledged it.

Salas later claimed that all this
had come out of nowhere.

Seriously? After all those times
I spoke outside the consulate?

Dealing with Mexican authorities
is a huge waste of time.

I have nothing to hide, bro.
I'll tell you anything you want,

except for the things
that might incriminate me.

If people want to blame me
for Marisela's death,

it wasn't me, dude. I say this sincerely.

I worked at a restaurant
on Mesa Street, El Paso, Texas.

My shift ended at 1:00 a.m.

I found out the next morning
when a friend woke me up.

I didn't kill Marisela.
I'm here for stealing boots.

They say the same thing about my brother.

They say he's the one who killed Marisela.

Of course he ordered the hit,
but someone else killed her.

He made the decision to join
the Zetas cartel.


He joined the Zetas and died with them.

He died, but he gained power
and met the top dogs.

He met the Juárez Cartel's top dogs
and they did favors for us.

I mean, favors for him.

Burning down the store,

killing the protected witness,
your brother did all that?

Of course it was him,
who else could've done it?

He was the mastermind behind all that.

That's it, I'm telling you here.
I didn't kill Marisela Fraire Escobedo.

I didn't kill that woman.

In the end, Rubí's murder went unpunished.

Marisela's murder went unpunished.

He was never arrested.

He never served time for Rubí's murder.

And Marisela didn't get
any justice either.

The country's prosecutions
are overwhelmed.

As a direct result of that,
many of the investigations…

are frankly flawed.

But most investigations
aren't even flawed,

they're permanently shelved.

They're stuck forever in a deep slumber.

There are still many girls like Rubí
all over the country.

Many Mariselas who walk every day
demanding justice.




If we let cases like this,

cases as clear-cut as this
end in impunity,

if we let this happen,
we put our own society at risk.

We march on every anniversary
so that people don't forget.

A crime without justice.

A crime drenched in impunity.

Marisela left her business behind

in order to become a staunch defender

of life, justice, and liberty.

And it cost her her life.

Because the government

wasn't able to give her
the justice she demanded.


Her last words are still etched
into my memory.

"I'd like my daughter's femicide
to be the last one in this city."

She was a nurse, a mother,
a business owner.

Her life was like any other's.

But what she did during
the last two years of her life

helped her transcend into the history
of Chihuahua and Mexico forever.

Marisela Escobedo is a living hero
in our collective consciousness.

Not only in Ciudad Juárez,
but for many Mexicans.

She was a spark of hope
for Mexican women and victims.

Everyone felt the weight of her words.

Get out of your four walls.

If one door closes,
tomorrow another opens.

You can keep searching
until the end of the Earth.

So that our daughters may live free,

so that they're not victims
of violence or abuse,

and much less murder.

The fight goes on and on!

Marisela lives on!

We know there's good people out there,
and I'm calling for their support.

Take to the streets with us
and demand justice.

Look out for each other
and don't wait to be next.


These are mothers who've left
orphaned children.

These are our daughters.
These are students.

They are the future of our city
and our country.

Not one more murdered woman!



Listen! This is your fight!


You are not alone! You are not alone!

I realized that my mom
had become a symbol.

A symbol of this fight in Chihuahua,
Mexico City, and Ciudad Juarez.

She's a symbol.

This is a love story,

and it's also the story
of many mothers, fathers,

many brothers, sisters,
sons, and daughters,

that we're all experiencing nowadays.

Yeah, it's a love story.

I decided I was tired,
I didn't want to hate anymore.

And in that moment, as I said those words,

this weight fell off my shoulders,
like huge sacks of cement.

A huge weight dropped off,
and the hate was gone.

There was no forgiveness either,
that's a different thing,

but the hatred wasn't there,
it was all gone.

I haven't felt the same since.

Good evening, everyone.

Thank you for sharing this special night
for our family and Noemí's.

I'd like you to join me in a toast,
with whatever is on hand,

to wish these kids happiness
and God bless you all.

Thank you.

My mom taught us love.

I was too stubborn to be loved,
but she loved me anyway.

In 2019, a lawsuit was brought before the
Inter-American Commission on Human Rights

to determine
the Mexican State's responsibility

in the handling
of Marisela and Rubí's case.

Andy Barraza is serving time
in Texas, USA, for aggravated robbery.

The Mexican government has never summoned
him to testify in Marisela's case.

At the time this documentary was made,
after three years at large,

César Duarte is being held in Miami
while appealing an extradition warrant.

There are 21 warrants for his arrest.

He is accused
of embezzling 1.2 billion pesos.

On average, ten women are murdered
each day in Mexico.

97% of all femicides go unpunished.

Please don't forget their names
Mr. President

For all the women marching along Reforma

For all the girls fighting in Sonora

For the female Commanders
Fighting for Chiapas

For all the mothers searching in Tijuana

We sing fearless
We demand justice

We shout for every disappeared girl

Let's hear it
We want to be alive

Make at last

The femicide die

I light everything on fire
I break everything

If some guy shuts your eyes forever

I won't shut up
I've had enough

If they hurt one

We will all react

I am Claudia, I am Ester
And I am Teresa

I am Ingrid, I am Rubí
I am Marisela

I am the girl that you forced
To come with you

I am the mother now crying
For their deaths

And I am the one who'll make you pay

Justice, justice, justice!

For all the women marching along Reforma

For all the girls fighting in Sonora

For the female Commanders
Fighting for Chiapas

For all the mothers searching in Tijuana

We sing fearless
We demand justice

We shout for every disappeared girl

Let's hear it
We want to be alive

Make at last

The femicide die

Make at last

The femicide die

And let the Earth shake at its core

At the mere roar of love

And let the Earth shake at its core

At the mere roar

Of love

Subtitle translation by: Silvana Rinaldi