3,723 women were killed in Mexico in 2020. For families, seeking justice is a nightmare. The police do not investigate and threaten those who should be protected.
There are 3,723 women killed in Mexico in 2020. At least ten women a day. For the victims' families, seeking justice is a journey into hell, often without end. In a report, Amnesty International denounces a system with staggering failings among the authorities of the state of Mexico, the country's most populous: lost evidence, incomplete investigations and threats against family members pressing for answers – "Don't make too much noise," is the warning from the police.
It was the daughters who found their mother Julia Sosa Conde's body buried in the ground. They discovered it digging with their bare hands in the field where her partner worked, about a week after the woman disappeared. The police arrived 21 hours later: "We don't have enough men," was the explanation. For that interminable stretch of time, the daughters kept watch over their mother's body, protecting the crime scene. One of them, Vanessa, also recounts how her statement was taken: she would list the facts while the officer dozed off, shamelessly. "He would ask me questions and then fall asleep. It was horrible."
The femicide of Julia Sosa Conde is one of four cases that occurred in the state of Mexico — one of the 32 regions of the federal republic — analysed by Amnesty International in the report "La giustizia sotto processo", published on 20 September last year.
The areas of concern are serious and wide-ranging: evidence not collected or lost, extremely weak investigations not approached from a proper gender perspective, as well as the secondary victimisation of families, who are persecuted and intimidated even by the very bodies tasked with protecting them. Alongside the femicides, the number of disappearances of teenage girls across the entire country is equally terrifying: nine disappearances a day of girls between the ages of 12 and 17.
"What have you found out, do you have anything for us?" That is the question Laura Curiel, mother of Daniela Sanchez Curiel — who disappeared in March 2015 — has been asked repeatedly by officers. Ms Curiel worked nights at a call centre so she could dedicate her mornings to searching for her daughter Daniela, while also caring for her grandchild, who was only three years old at the time. Then the intimidation began, and stress levels rose to the point where she could no longer work.
Countless women lose their financial independence, their health and their freedom in an attempt to find at least their daughters' bodies and bring those responsible to justice, in a system of silence and indifference.
In an interview conducted by Amnesty International, an employee of the prosecutor's office stated that the progress of investigations depends largely on the pressure they receive regarding a case. "When we go to the attorney general's office we see many files on the murders of women that aren't even touched," Laura Curiel goes on to say. "We ask the victims' family members whether there have been any developments; the answer is no, they know nothing. I have always thought that every small step taken by the authorities was solely the result of our constant, determined presence."
Investigating, searching for evidence and obtaining information not only costs a great deal of time and money — it also means putting oneself in danger. The protection that should be guaranteed to victims' families is a pipe dream. "The reality is that I have always protected myself on my own," adds Daniela's mother. "I have moved house thousands of times. That's how I keep going — the moment I feel in danger, I move. I jump from one place to another, because the authorities have never guaranteed my safety."
The plague of femicides in Mexico is therefore not limited to the dusty, desert streets of Ciudad Juárez and the state of Chihuahua, but affects the entire federal republic, with growing attention on the state of Mexico, which over the past ten years has become the stage for an increasingly dense network of criminal organisations. In 2018, 79.6 per cent of its inhabitants were living in a state of poverty, vulnerability and deprivation, with one of the highest crime rates in the country.
In 2009, the Inter-American Court of Human Rights condemned Mexico for violating the rights to life, integrity and personal liberty, for violating the duty to protect minors and for violating the prohibition of non-discrimination. A landmark ruling that established the international responsibility of the state for acts of gender-based violence occurring on its territory, with an obligation to remedy sixteen violations within one year of the judgement.
A hugely significant outcome, achieved after years of struggle by the families of three femicide victims — two of whom were minors — who were killed in 2001 in the area known as the "campo algodonero", the cotton field of Ciudad Juárez. However, in 2017 the same court recognised that only nine of the sixteen required provisions had been complied with.
Nearly two years on, the murder of Isabel Cabanillas — a young artist, activist and mother of a small child — remains unsolved. According to statements from the outgoing administration, it was not possible to gather sufficient evidence to bring the case to trial; three lines of investigation remain open and the new prosecutor's office will therefore be responsible for continuing the inquiry.
Family members and friends continue to believe that Isabel was killed precisely because she was a well-known activist with the association Hijas de su maquilera madre. She was found on the street, killed by gunshot wounds, the day after her disappearance. It was 18 January 2019.
Humberto Robles is the Mexican playwright and author of Donne di sabbia, the theatre production that gathers the testimonies of women from Ciudad Juárez, which has reached 21 countries around the world, with more than 70 performances in Italy alone. We reached him by phone because, as well as being one of the spokespersons, he is the only man to have collaborated — for around twenty years now — with Nuestra Hijas de regreso a casa, the social movement that supports women in their daily struggle for justice.
"Unfortunately I can only fully confirm everything documented by Amnesty," says Robles. "For years Mexico has pursued a schizophrenic policy, signing all the international treaties while failing to enforce the laws within the country. Alongside the 'campo algodonero', another emblematic case is that of the 'women of Atenco', who were raped and tortured by police officers in May 2006 in San Salvador Atenco, in the state of Mexico. Those crimes resulted in 2018 in another ruling against the country by the Inter-American Court of Human Rights, but only after long years of ordeal through various criminal proceedings, of which only one reached a conclusion — and with an acquittal."
"There is no political will to put an end to crimes against women, which are another pandemic," Robles adds. "There is no will to prevent gender-based violence in any sector either; some efforts have been made, but they are minimal. I think, for example, of theatre and dance — artistic fields where abuse, violence and harassment continue to be reported, yet the authorities do not act as they should, leaving teachers and students who continue to perpetrate these crimes unpunished."
We ask Robles why, in his view, there are no other men in the social movement he works within — where are the fathers and brothers of the victims. "It's an interesting phenomenon, but also a very widespread one," he replies. "Think of the grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo in Argentina, who are trying to bring home the children disappeared by the dictatorship. I believe men are not able to face all of this — I mean the grief, the crime that has been committed, the system. In many cases, after a femicide, the husbands choose to leave, abandoning their wives and children. They probably cannot bear such pain. Women are stronger."