After years of struggle to correct her father's death certificate that reflects the true nature of his death under Brazil's military regime, Tessa Moura Lacerda continues to grapple with unresolved grief, illustrating the lasting impact of a traumatic past.**
Unresolved Grief: The Fight for Justice Amid Brazil's Dictatorship Legacy**
Unresolved Grief: The Fight for Justice Amid Brazil's Dictatorship Legacy**
Tessa Moura Lacerda reflects on her long journey to amend her father's death certificate and the trauma endured by families of victims during Brazil's military dictatorship.**
---
"Have we really done it?" Tessa Moura Lacerda inquired with her mother, disbelief etched across their faces as they stood before a government office on a rainy day in August 2019. In their hands, they clutched a long-fought document: her father’s death certificate, now rightly declaring his cause of death as “unnatural, violent death caused by the State to a missing person [...] in the dictatorial regime established in 1964.”
Tessa’s father, Gildo Macedo Lacerda, was tortured to death in 1973, at the age of 24, during Brazil's military dictatorship, which claimed the lives of at least 434 individuals and left countless others tortured or permanently missing, according to a national truth commission.
Born into fear of government persecution, Gildo and his wife Mariluce, who was pregnant with Tessa at the time, were arrested on October 22, 1973, in Salvador, Bahia. They were affiliated with a left-wing group advocating for democracy and challenging the military regime. While Mariluce was released after enduring questioning and torture, Gildo disappeared, presumed dead shortly after their arrest at a nearby military facility.
Long-standing narratives reported by the government distorted the truth, suggesting he was shot due to a quarrel within his political group. However, testimonies from former detainees confirmed he was seen inside the prison, taken into a room from which the echoes of his desperate screams disturbed the nights of others.
After a 1995 law granted families the right to request death certificates for their missing members, Gildo's original certificate sadly had no cause of death stated. The family's search for closure intensified, particularly due to the belief that his remains were buried in a mass grave alongside other political adversaries.
Tessa, who never met her father, described how his absence has haunted her life. Despite a childhood filled with stories from her mother, the official denial of her father's fate left her with a suffocating uncertainty. “I thought perhaps he had escaped,” she mused, reflecting on the fantasies that softened her reality until age allowed her to grasp the horrific truth.
With Tessa's birth certificate initially omitting Gildo's name, rectifying his death certificate transformed into a critical mission not only for her father's legacy but on behalf of all victims of the regime. "It's part of my duty fulfilled," she said, emphasizing that this fight represented a broader struggle for justice against a shameful past.
In December 2024, Brazil announced intentions to amend the death certificates of all recognized victims, acknowledging the state’s accountability in their deaths. Previously, only select families had garnered assistance from a special commission, which had been dissolved and later reinstated under President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva.
A national dialogue ignited recently due to a film by BAFTA-winning director Walter Salles, "I’m Still Here," which powerfully depicts the devastating impact of the dictatorship and resonates with contemporary Brazil's political polarization. The film's narrative mirrors personal accounts of families seeking recognition for their lost loved ones, echoing the unhealed trauma prevalent in society today.
As comments surrounding the film surfaced, viewers expressed emotional connections, highlighting their own familial losses and the unending cycle of grief and injustice. While some families like Tessa's received acknowledgment, they still face hurdles due to an enduring amnesty law preventing prosecution of military officials involved in the atrocities.
“It’s essential that Brazilian society grapples with this history,” Tessa implored, underscoring the necessity for recognition to validate the sacrifices made and ensure that future generations do not endure similar suffering. Both Tessa and her fellow advocates remain resolute, determined that “these deaths must not be in vain.” For Tessa, there is no rest until she has buried her father and secured justice not just for her family, but for countless others entwined in Brazil's painful past.
"Have we really done it?" Tessa Moura Lacerda inquired with her mother, disbelief etched across their faces as they stood before a government office on a rainy day in August 2019. In their hands, they clutched a long-fought document: her father’s death certificate, now rightly declaring his cause of death as “unnatural, violent death caused by the State to a missing person [...] in the dictatorial regime established in 1964.”
Tessa’s father, Gildo Macedo Lacerda, was tortured to death in 1973, at the age of 24, during Brazil's military dictatorship, which claimed the lives of at least 434 individuals and left countless others tortured or permanently missing, according to a national truth commission.
Born into fear of government persecution, Gildo and his wife Mariluce, who was pregnant with Tessa at the time, were arrested on October 22, 1973, in Salvador, Bahia. They were affiliated with a left-wing group advocating for democracy and challenging the military regime. While Mariluce was released after enduring questioning and torture, Gildo disappeared, presumed dead shortly after their arrest at a nearby military facility.
Long-standing narratives reported by the government distorted the truth, suggesting he was shot due to a quarrel within his political group. However, testimonies from former detainees confirmed he was seen inside the prison, taken into a room from which the echoes of his desperate screams disturbed the nights of others.
After a 1995 law granted families the right to request death certificates for their missing members, Gildo's original certificate sadly had no cause of death stated. The family's search for closure intensified, particularly due to the belief that his remains were buried in a mass grave alongside other political adversaries.
Tessa, who never met her father, described how his absence has haunted her life. Despite a childhood filled with stories from her mother, the official denial of her father's fate left her with a suffocating uncertainty. “I thought perhaps he had escaped,” she mused, reflecting on the fantasies that softened her reality until age allowed her to grasp the horrific truth.
With Tessa's birth certificate initially omitting Gildo's name, rectifying his death certificate transformed into a critical mission not only for her father's legacy but on behalf of all victims of the regime. "It's part of my duty fulfilled," she said, emphasizing that this fight represented a broader struggle for justice against a shameful past.
In December 2024, Brazil announced intentions to amend the death certificates of all recognized victims, acknowledging the state’s accountability in their deaths. Previously, only select families had garnered assistance from a special commission, which had been dissolved and later reinstated under President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva.
A national dialogue ignited recently due to a film by BAFTA-winning director Walter Salles, "I’m Still Here," which powerfully depicts the devastating impact of the dictatorship and resonates with contemporary Brazil's political polarization. The film's narrative mirrors personal accounts of families seeking recognition for their lost loved ones, echoing the unhealed trauma prevalent in society today.
As comments surrounding the film surfaced, viewers expressed emotional connections, highlighting their own familial losses and the unending cycle of grief and injustice. While some families like Tessa's received acknowledgment, they still face hurdles due to an enduring amnesty law preventing prosecution of military officials involved in the atrocities.
“It’s essential that Brazilian society grapples with this history,” Tessa implored, underscoring the necessity for recognition to validate the sacrifices made and ensure that future generations do not endure similar suffering. Both Tessa and her fellow advocates remain resolute, determined that “these deaths must not be in vain.” For Tessa, there is no rest until she has buried her father and secured justice not just for her family, but for countless others entwined in Brazil's painful past.
