My son Hector was a carpenter.  I get on very well with all my children, and with him, my eldest, even better.  I remember Sunday 3 August 2014 so clearly, he said to me: “Mama, I’ve met a girl. I’m in love”.  He was very happy. The next day after work, two supposed friends called him. Then they came to pick him up to go build the front of a house.  They gave me a bad feeling, but Hector said it was nothing.  It was a lie.  They had already made a plan to kill him.  He never came back; he was 34 years old.

On 18 December the following year, they handed me his remains.  I don’t know what happened.  All I know is that they chopped him up (dismembered him).  I never saw him hanging out with gangs. Maybe he had made bad friends, you never know.  But anyway, he was my friend, my everything, a wonderful son. Sometimes I can’t believe what is happening to me, because it is the worst that could happen to a mother.  But I never took any reprisals against anyone, even though they gave him a very cruel death.  I have already forgiven them, but I can’t lie, my soul aches. I don’t forget.  I still cry.  Right now I would like to have all my son’s killers in front of me, because I want to know the truth.  My hope is that there really is peace: to live in tranquility, in harmony and free of this personal torture.

Marile Caicedo, Buenaventura