Bag after bag of human remains is brought up from a mass grave in Brazil. In a forensic laboratory, the exhumed bones are painstakingly reconstructed, using the smallest clues to establish the identity of the person murdered decades ago during the dictatorship (1964–1985), yet still officially missing. And still deeply missed: for the bereaved families, these unresolved disappearances remain an open wound.
The same is true for a mother whose son was killed by police in the early 2000s. She continues to challenge the authorities in her search for the truth about his death. But the authorities keep covering up the facts. The laboratory itself is threatened with closure. People are expected to forget. The film’s three central figures refuse to do so. They keep demanding answers, explanations, and justice.
In grainy home movies, lost loved ones come back to life. They dance happily, splash in the waves, joke around on the sofa. They smile at us. “A bone is proof that any human being existed,” says a former cemetery caretaker. “How can you evaporate such evidence?”
Stills
