SAO PAULO — On Monday, the Brazilian government extended an apology to the families of individuals who suffered during the nation’s military dictatorship, acknowledging that the remains of their loved ones might be among those uncovered in a hidden mass grave 35 years ago. For numerous families, the wait continues to confirm whether their missing relatives—parents, children, siblings, or friends—are among the over 1,000 remains found in 1990 in a trench at a São Paulo cemetery in Perus. This grave discovery marked the beginning of numerous uncoverings following the conclusion of Brazil’s military regime in 1985.
The site, located at Dom Bosco cemetery, was revealed to hold remains of various unidentified individuals, not all related to anti-dictatorship activities. The official apology came as part of a legal accord involving prosecutors, the victims’ families, and the State, coinciding with Right to Truth Day—a day observed internationally.
Human Rights Minister Macaé Evaristo criticized the Brazilian State for the prolonged and insufficient efforts in identifying the remains unearthed at Perus. For years, these remains were stored and examined by three state universities and international laboratories, yet few families have since had their relatives identified. Evaristo noted an annual government expenditure of about 200,000 Brazilian reais ($35,000) towards these identification efforts but admitted this allocation falls short in providing closure to affected families.
“The Brazilian government is devoted to continuing the investigation and holding those accountable,” Evaristo asserted, reflecting on the dismantling of the ministry under Jair Bolsonaro’s presidency, who openly supported the military era. “Families deserve the truth, as does Brazilian society.”
Families still uncertain about the fate of their loved ones attended the formal apology event. Gilberto Molina, whose brother Flávio was identified in one of the bags in 2005, represented them. Yet, only in 2019 did the Brazilian State acknowledge its responsibility for the crime in Flávio’s official death certificate.
“The funeral stretched almost 50 years,” Molina recalled. “For many families, it remains ongoing. Perseverance is key in seeking justice.” The 2014 report from Brazil’s truth commission revealed that at least 434 individuals died, and over 100 vanished during the military dictatorship. Renewed interest surged with the film “I’m Still Here,” detailing the disappearance of Rubens Paiva, drawing a vast audience and highlighting the regime’s atrocities.
Nilmário Miranda, a seasoned human rights advocate, accentuated the significance of exposing the mass grave shortly after Brazil’s return to democracy—a discovery spearheaded by then-Mayor Luiza Erundina, who persisted even under anonymous threats.
“Society kept it all concealed, sparking doubts about the dictatorship’s end deal which pardoned torturers,” Miranda elaborated about Brazil’s 1979 amnesty law. This legislation, barring punishment for military-era crimes, may now face reevaluation by Brazil’s Supreme Court in certain cases.
Antonio Pires Eustáquio, the Dom Bosco cemetery manager from 1976, who aided families over the years, acknowledged the apology. “This is only conceivable in a democracy. Dictators never admit their faults,” Eustáquio reflected. “Many believed I might be killed for knowing the grave’s location. My presence here signifies democracy’s triumph.”
Nevertheless, Crimeia Almeida, whose family members vanished amid guerrilla activities decades ago, demanded more than apologies. “Apologies are moving and welcomed, yet they don’t rectify the crimes committed,” she stated.