In the suburb of Chicago, a 36‑year‑old man grew up knowing only the love he received from his adoptive parents. But the shock of discovering that he had been taken from his Chilean mother as a newborn set him on a desperate search that would ultimately bring a few of Chile’s stolen children home.
Kyle Adler learned at an early age that he was adopted, but it wasn’t until his late twenties that he found out how it happened. A quick online search brought him to a Facebook group called “Nos Buscamos,” a nonprofit that uses crowdsourced data to track the thousands of Chilean children who were illegally taken from families during the 17‑year dictatorship of Gen. Augusto Pinochet. Within less than a month, the founder, Constanza Del Rio, verified Adler’s story and coordinated a virtual reunion with the woman who had given birth to him.
“What it meant to know I wasn’t adopted in the normal sense was a huge shock,” Adler told the AP. “It sent me into an identity crisis, and I had to go through therapy for a while.”
Adler’s birth mother, Ana Maria Navarrete, was a 19‑year‑old single parent nursing working nights at a fish shop in the coastal city of Coronel, 533 km (331 mi) south of the capital. She hired a caregiver who took little Marcos to her home, telling her that a priest had arranged for a baby “in need of a family.” The caregiver delivered the child to an American couple that shared Adler’s adoptive name. Navarrete’s frustration proved she was unaware of the country’s efforts to remove poor and Indigenous children for adoption by wealthier families.
In the early 2010s a network of adoption agencies, immigration officials, judges and medical personnel was alleged to have participated in a large‑scale counterfeit adoption scheme. Police investigations never led to convictions, and Navarrete said the law still works against those who were taken.
Dad and daughter (sic)
After finding her biological son, Navarrete boarded a flight from Miami in February. The reunion happened in Chile on Valentine’s Day, two days after Navarrete’s 56th birthday. Both wore white in the final photo. After exit at the international arrivals gate, the boy and woman ran into each other’s arms, tears streaming down their faces.
Navarrete later told the AP, “I keep turning over the memories—those last 35 years—every day that we were together.” The week they spent together included a visit to the beach outside Coronel, the hospital where Adler was born, the house from which he had been taken and the retrieval of a copy of his original birth certificate. The two also recovered childhood photographs and a pair of baby shoes that had remained in empty drawers.
In an interview, Adler spoke about his journey through the adoption program and his love for his new family. “I feel the love, the compassion, the care—it’s nice to have a family again.” He added that the experience is a reminder that “justice for the poor didn’t exist in Chile, and it still doesn’t.”
The case is part of a nationwide effort to seek justice for victims of counter‑feiting. A lawyer, Jimmy Lippert Thyden González, sued the Chilean government to reach the Inter‑American Court of Human Rights, while nonprofit Grafting Hope focuses on raising awareness among U.S. lawmakers.
Now that DNA testing—provided by genealogy platform MyHeritage—has linked Alvarez to his most beloved family, the road to forgiveness continues. Navarrete, who joined the family in December, hopes that marriage and healing can be achieved on both sides of the border.
In a quiet moment, the two children shared a once‑forgotten concept—patience—and their story is a reminder that even where the dark history persists, it is never too late to find truth and healing.
Kyle Adler learned at an early age that he was adopted, but it wasn’t until his late twenties that he found out how it happened. A quick online search brought him to a Facebook group called “Nos Buscamos,” a nonprofit that uses crowdsourced data to track the thousands of Chilean children who were illegally taken from families during the 17‑year dictatorship of Gen. Augusto Pinochet. Within less than a month, the founder, Constanza Del Rio, verified Adler’s story and coordinated a virtual reunion with the woman who had given birth to him.
“What it meant to know I wasn’t adopted in the normal sense was a huge shock,” Adler told the AP. “It sent me into an identity crisis, and I had to go through therapy for a while.”
Adler’s birth mother, Ana Maria Navarrete, was a 19‑year‑old single parent nursing working nights at a fish shop in the coastal city of Coronel, 533 km (331 mi) south of the capital. She hired a caregiver who took little Marcos to her home, telling her that a priest had arranged for a baby “in need of a family.” The caregiver delivered the child to an American couple that shared Adler’s adoptive name. Navarrete’s frustration proved she was unaware of the country’s efforts to remove poor and Indigenous children for adoption by wealthier families.
In the early 2010s a network of adoption agencies, immigration officials, judges and medical personnel was alleged to have participated in a large‑scale counterfeit adoption scheme. Police investigations never led to convictions, and Navarrete said the law still works against those who were taken.
Dad and daughter (sic)
After finding her biological son, Navarrete boarded a flight from Miami in February. The reunion happened in Chile on Valentine’s Day, two days after Navarrete’s 56th birthday. Both wore white in the final photo. After exit at the international arrivals gate, the boy and woman ran into each other’s arms, tears streaming down their faces.
Navarrete later told the AP, “I keep turning over the memories—those last 35 years—every day that we were together.” The week they spent together included a visit to the beach outside Coronel, the hospital where Adler was born, the house from which he had been taken and the retrieval of a copy of his original birth certificate. The two also recovered childhood photographs and a pair of baby shoes that had remained in empty drawers.
In an interview, Adler spoke about his journey through the adoption program and his love for his new family. “I feel the love, the compassion, the care—it’s nice to have a family again.” He added that the experience is a reminder that “justice for the poor didn’t exist in Chile, and it still doesn’t.”
The case is part of a nationwide effort to seek justice for victims of counter‑feiting. A lawyer, Jimmy Lippert Thyden González, sued the Chilean government to reach the Inter‑American Court of Human Rights, while nonprofit Grafting Hope focuses on raising awareness among U.S. lawmakers.
Now that DNA testing—provided by genealogy platform MyHeritage—has linked Alvarez to his most beloved family, the road to forgiveness continues. Navarrete, who joined the family in December, hopes that marriage and healing can be achieved on both sides of the border.
In a quiet moment, the two children shared a once‑forgotten concept—patience—and their story is a reminder that even where the dark history persists, it is never too late to find truth and healing.
