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Operation Massacre(72)

By:Daniella Gitlin


            Now that there is no imminent danger, I should think that my fellow journalists from the big newspapers could go to the lengths I have gone to instead of taking dictation from the lieutenant colonel executioner.





Short History of an Investigation


            In my account, I mention “Marcelo” three times using the initial M. I did not know him as a terrorist, but as a witness. I can’t say, however, that I am surprised he became a terrorist: he was an embittered man who suffered tremendously. The ghost of Carlitos Lizaso—his blood-spattered chest, his cheek crushed by a bullet—tormented him relentlessly. His dear friend Mr. Pedro Lizaso had made him responsible for watching over the boy. He had brought him back dead.

            In order to illustrate how untrue it is that “Marcelo” supplied the “information used as the basis” for my articles, and in an effort to stave off any more fanciful manipulations, I will have to refer briefly to the phases of my investigation. I first heard news of the massacre on December 18, 1956. On the nineteenth, I met Judge Doglia. On the twentieth, I met von Kotsch, Esq., and obtained a copy of Livraga’s formal accusation. That afternoon, I sent it to the publisher of Propósitos. On the twenty-first, I met Livraga. On the twenty-third, the accusation was published in Propósitos.

            The accusation and Livraga’s oral statement were relatively precise, but they contained two basic errors that significantly hindered my later investigations. The first was the claim that, in the back apartment, where Livraga’s friend Rodríguez had taken him, there were only three more people. The second was the assumption that there were only ten prisoners in the assault car.

            On December 26, I finished writing my story on Livraga which, after a long pilgrimage, was going to be published in Revolución Nacional on January 15. It of course included those two errors. But it also included a noteworthy guess, a hunch even, based on a few words that Livraga heard in a semiconscious state: the theory of a third survivor. I never could have imagined how right it turned out to be. The piece also included another guess of mine that did not make it to the public: the nearly outright mention of the Chief of Police as the one responsible for everything. The editors at the newspaper thought it was too “bold” so they scrapped it.

            On December 27, while looking through newspapers from the time of the uprising, I discovered Vicente Rodríguez’s name at the top of a list of “those executed in the San Martín Region.” But there were unbelievable errors here as well that would prove to be real stumbling blocks. There was a “Crizaso” on the list who I later realized was Lizaso. Reinaldo Benavídez was listed as dead though he was really alive. And Mario Brión’s name was missing.

            So, at the time, using Livraga’s formal accusation and this list, you could glean the following, somewhat erroneous overview: there were two survivors (Livraga and Giunta), five known dead (Rodríguez, Carranza, Garibotti, “Crizaso,” and Benavídez); and three unknown dead.

            On December 28, it occurred to me to review all of the newspapers from the time of the uprising. Since it was All Fool’s Day, it shouldn’t have surprised me to come upon the Chief of Police’s statements where he told the story of the raid, saying he had arrested fourteen people. Thus began the endless and slightly Kafkaesque process in which I was either missing a body or a survivor, or had one too many . . .

            For rather unimportant reasons, I then reached an impasse that lasted twenty days.

            On January 19, I located the site of the execution and took photographs. The twentieth was an extraordinary day. I went to Florida, met Giunta, managed to break down his dogged resistance, and got him to tell me his version of what had happened. That same afternoon, I interviewed Rodríguez’s widow. I used that opportunity to talk to the neighbors. There were three extremely important pieces of information that came to the fore from all of these conversations: 1) the existence of a “third man,” a new survivor, just as I had thought; 2) the first mention of Mario Brión; 3) the first mention of the mysterious tenant in the back apartment, “a tall man who escaped,” according to what the neighborhood kids told me. I learned more in that one afternoon than I had in an entire month of false starts.