All language subtitles for Stolen.Children.2025.1080p.WEB.h264-EDITH_track4_[eng]

Hello. I'm Tamuna Museridze,
though that's not my real name.

Unfortunately,
I don't know the real one.

If this video ever reaches you
and you end up watching it,

above all,
I want to say, thank you.

First, for giving birth to me.

Second, for blessing two people
who couldn't have a child of their own.

Third, if we ever meet,
I'll be able to say it to you in person.

"Hello, I'm contacting you from Gori.

Today, I came across your post
and it raised my suspicions.

My grandma gave birth
to a boy in Mejvriskhevi,

a village in the Gori district,
around 1980.

Three days after the birth,
she was told that the baby died.

They let my grandpa see the body,
but they kept it.

I need your advice on how to determine
whether my doubts are reasonable."

"After giving birth,
my mother was told that her baby died.

It happened
at Maternity Hospital Number One.

The body wasn't released
to the parents for burial.

Please guide me, if you can."

My name is Tamuna Museridze.
I'm 39, and I'm a journalist.

We have evidence
that tens of thousands of mothers

are searching for their children today.

We're talking
about up to a hundred thousand women

who don't know
what really happened to their children.

I grew up with a sense that someone
who should've been by my side

was missing from my life.

I was a weird kid

because I saw things
that no one else did.

I had no idea

whether that was normal or not.

It led to my mental health issues

because as a child,

I was accompanied by a little girl,

a friend who was always right behind me.

I'd tell other kids,

"Look, someone's standing right here,

talking to me just like you are.

"She's my friend."

My name is Tamar Khvitia,
but they call me Tako or Amy.

I'm 21 years old.

I was raised in Zugdidi.

You could say my childhood was happy.

I had everything I needed.

My mom was good to me.

I'd even say she was a better mom
than I could've expected.

She did all she could to make me happy

so I wouldn't feel deprived
of anything in my life.

My name is Ano Sartania.
I'm 21 years old.

My parents are refugees from Abkhazia.

After the war, they started from scratch,
but they made sure I never felt it.

I think I was a happy child
in a perfect family.

In my eyes,
my mom and dad were the best at that time.

The first thing that comes to my mind
is how much they loved me.

Around the clock, every single day,

they both did everything for me.

Our paths crossed for the first time

when I took part
in a dance contest in Zugdidi.

One of my fellow competitors and her mom
were constantly checking in on me.

They offered me water,
asked if I was hungry.

I couldn't comprehend why a rival
would give me so much attention.

Later on, I looked up
that girl's social media profile.

I saw that my competitor posted a photo.

I thought the person in it was me.

I was wondering
when we took that photo together.

Then I read the caption,
"Me and my cousin."

When I was nine or ten,
my family and I saw her on a TV show.

Hi there, kids!

- Introduce yourselves.
- I'm Ano Sartania.

- What will you be showing us?
- Jive dancing.

Our relatives and friends called us

to ask my mom why I, Tamara,

was performing on TV
under a different name.

A few years after that incident,

I got my eyebrow pierced.

The person who did my piercing
posted it on TikTok.

One of Ano's friends saw that video.

That friend reached out and sent me
a screenshot showing a girl

who looked a lot like me.

I don't know what got into me,

but I forwarded that photo
to my college classmates,

asking them,

"Hey, I dyed my hair and got a piercing.
Do you think it's a good look for me?"

A friend who had been
at the piercing studio with me,

sent me a message,

"Some girl is sharing your photo
saying it's her,

"but I know it's you."

So I asked her who that person was.

And that's how we first got in touch.

We both wrote at the same time,

"I've been looking for you for so long."

"Me too."

My childhood was fantastic.

I had all the means and possibilities,
everything I wanted.

I traveled abroad back when Georgia
was still part of the Soviet Union.

I had the opportunity
to join many extra activities.

I received a solid education.

I never planned to be a journalist.

That wasn't my goal at all.

I always wanted to be a detective,

but my parents considered it a bad idea.

They believed that certain professions
were strictly for men,

and others, for women.

Then I decided
to apply to an acting school

and become an actress.

But that turned out to be a problem too

because my parents didn't want me
to become a public figure.

In the end, without telling my parents,

I took the entrance exams for journalism.

You're doing an important job.

I meant to say that too.
I follow you and I'm impressed.

I've been working
in television for 16 years,

since my first year at university.

My first job was in public television.

I hosted a student show.

Then I worked
for the Pirveli Stereo channel.

I hosted the evening show there.

After that, I moved to Imedi TV

to host the "Bell of Luck" show.

I also hosted
a morning show for seven years.

On top of that,

I was a live broadcast host
for Eurovision two times.

Welcome to the live Eurovision broadcast
here on Channel One.

Tamuna and Sandro.

How did you two meet?

At a wedding.

She caught my eye
the moment I stepped inside.

Her hair, appearance and style
made her stand out.

She was incredibly beautiful.

She still is.

She captivated me in that moment,

and her charm hasn't faded to this day.

There's so much chemistry between us,

I sometimes worry we might just explode.

So far, we're trying to control it.

Many people have said
that our relationship is inspiring.

They praise us for our infectious energy.

Everything changed in 2016.

My father passed in 2006,
and my mom ten years later.

After my mom's death,
I started sorting through her documents.

That's when I came across
my birth certificate.

I had never seen it before.

The date of birth was different

than the one I had known my whole life.

It was August 10th

instead of October 10th.

I went to the Office of Vital Records,

but they couldn't find any document
confirming my mom's delivery.

So I went to the maternity hospital
I was born in.

Unfortunately,
this is all that's left of that hospital.

I won't be able to check anything here.

Since the hospital no longer exists,

I had to turn to the archives.

I wrote a request for access to the files.

I received information

that no Marina Kukhianidze
gave birth there in 1984.

We met in person after three days.

When I saw her,

I exclaimed, "Wow!"
We both did.

I said, "Go away! Who are you?

"I can't even look at you. Get lost!"

It was an amazing meeting.

I thought I was looking in the mirror.

We had a similar tone
and manner of speaking.

Absolutely everything
was similar. Everything.

Our whole bodies looked the same.
Even our nails.

The voice, the looks, the behavior.

I felt like I was looking at myself.

Only our style was different,
but we've sorted it out.

For the first few days,
we couldn't stop talking.

We slept five hours a day

and spent the rest of the time
texting and keeping in touch.

At one point, she mentioned
that she was born in Chkhorotsku.

Or maybe I was first, I can't remember.
I said, "I was born in Chkhorotsku too."

Later on, it turned out
that we have the same genetic condition,

a type of dysplasia that occurs
in one out of 1,000 cases.

We became suspicious.

One in 1,000 children,

and there are two identical people

who, in addition,
were born in the same place and year.

We had to find an explanation.

The possibility
that I was born in a different hospital

and the lack of any record
of my mother giving birth

wasn't enough for me
to prove that I could've been adopted.

I was sure that it was a clerical error.

I might have been born somewhere else.

That's why I began

calling my relatives.

I wanted to figure out
which hospital I was born in.

The response to my questions
felt off and inadequate.

Instead of answering,

they became aggressive
and avoided contact.

They told me not to visit them
and insisted that I stop digging

into that case.

After a few months of trying,
I decided to go all in.

I set up a meeting

with the daughter of my mom's friend.

I pretended
I already knew the whole truth.

I wanted to find out
what she knew on the matter.

She told me that at my mom's funeral,

when I said out loud
that I needed to get checked

since the aneurysm
that killed her was hereditary,

my mom's friends said,

"What aneurysm? Poor Tamuna.
She doesn't know she's adopted."

At that moment,
I remembered all the people

who have ever suggested
I might've been adopted.

I looked at my husband,

and he was sitting
with his hands over his face like this.

During the funeral ceremony,

a friend of Tamuna's mother
pulled me aside

and told me that Tamuna was adopted.

It's very hard to reveal
a truth like that,

especially when it concerns your loved one

in such a difficult moment
of loss and tears.

How do I tell her that her own mom,
who has just passed,

wasn't her biological mother?

My name is Sophio Kereselidze
and I'm Tamuna's cousin.

Tamuna and I grew up together.

I'm eight years older than her

and I've known her since she was born
and came into our home.

I knew about Tamuna's adoption.

Everyone did.
The family, relatives, friends...

We were convinced that a child
should never be told they were adopted.

It was considered wrong.

That's just our mentality.

A few months after her mother's death,

Tamuna called me to ask
if I knew she was adopted.

I denied it.

I told her it was just gossip
and someone lied.

To which she replied,
"No one's lying. I found the documents."

There was no point in denying it anymore.

I told her everything.

For the first few days
of contact with Tako,

I couldn't recognize my mom.

She didn't talk to me,
she would just sit like a stone.

I asked my grandma and she went,

"Your mom couldn't get pregnant..."

I stopped listening.

My mother's friend called me.
I told her I couldn't take it anymore.

I was sitting there crying,
feeling miserable.

I just wanted someone
to tell me the truth.

And then she admitted that I was adopted.

Millions of images and thoughts
ran through my head.

On one hand,
it was cool to find a sister.

But on the other hand,

it's sad that we didn't grow up together.

It's hard to process.
It's a kind of trauma.

Not only are you adopted,

but it also turns out you have a sister
you hadn't met for 19 years.

I resented the fact that people

who had been in my life for 19 years

were strangers to me,
biologically speaking.

I resented the fact

that it wasn't my mother
who gave birth to me,

but some other woman.

Tamuna's family

was very wealthy for that time.

Her father, Shota, was probably one
of the top ten richest people in Georgia.

Tamuna's mother was a doctor.

She came from a well-educated
and wealthy family.

Tamuna's parents
had been married for a few years

but, unfortunately,
still hadn't had a child.

My mother knew a nurse who was involved
in the child adoption process.

She acted as an intermediary

between those
who put children up for adoption

and those who adopted them.

She took care
of almost every part of the process.

She was responsible for the financial side
as well as the paperwork.

She didn't hide the fact
that she was facilitating adoptions.

It was a business to her.

One day, she called us.

She told my mom that a very pretty,
healthy baby had been born.

Tamuna's aunts went to the hospital
to see the baby's mother.

They found her appearance acceptable.

I called my aunt to have a chat.

She said she couldn't recall
my birth date,

but she remembered
that I came from Samegrelo.

She also remembered some details.

For example, that a smiling girl
was pointed out to them in the corridor.

She had a prominent chin
and they didn't like it very much,

but the baby was healthy, so they took it.

Healthy and pretty children
were more expensive

and the demand for them was so high

that the parents
had to use their connections

to get to adopt
the pretty and healthy little Tamuna.

They paid more than anyone else
was willing to offer for her.

It was a huge shock.
My whole world collapsed.

The fairy tale I grew up in suddenly
ended in a drastic way.

My name is Salome Chichinadze.

I used to work in the department
that oversaw orphanages

and educational care facilities
in Georgia.

In Georgian tradition,

a newly married couple is meant
to have a child as soon as possible.

That's what society expects.

If the woman doesn't get pregnant quickly,

it creates a lot of tension and stress.

Both for the couple
and the rest of the family.

Back in those days, there were
no healthy children in the orphanages.

The only healthy ones often had parents

who didn't want
to put them up for adoption.

That's why adoptions
from orphanages were very rare.

The problem was a large number
of prospective adoptive parents

and a relatively small number
of children eligible for adoption.

That was the main reason
why certain adoptive parents

who couldn't find a child to adopt
or were pressed for time

ended up participating
in the illegal scheme.

I would like to meet
my biological mother.

I have questions for her

that have been bothering me
for the last ten months.

If you're watching this video

wondering whether
I'm the person you think I am,

don't hesitate
to reach out to me discreetly.

died before Tamuna learned
about the adoption.

I created VEDZEB group to make contact
with other adopted children,

to share our stories and feelings.

I started getting messages

from many people who were looking
for their biological families

just like me.

One day,

a boy posted in the group
that his adoptive parent told him

that he had been sold by an ob-gyn
from Maternity Hospital Number One.

We found that doctor

and he admitted
to lying to the biological parents

that their baby died.

He sold the baby
to one of his acquaintances.

I published his story for the group
to see and it triggered a wave.

A shocking infant trafficking scheme
has just been uncovered.

It ran in Georgia
from the Soviet period until 2005.

Hundreds of thousands
of children may have been sold.

After three days,
they'd say that the baby died

and would be buried
at the hospital cemetery.

Women whose children were sold
can't even prove that they were pregnant,

because there's no record of it in
the central registry or hospital files.

The children were falsely registered
as deceased.

Not only doctors were involved,

but also officials and influential
figures who covered up the scheme.

The primary targets were twins.

The mothers were told
they'd been pregnant with just one child.

"In 1990,

our twins were born in Gori,
a boy and a girl.

We were told that the girl passed.
We never saw her."

"On April 29, 1974,
we had a healthy baby.

"Three days later,
they told us that our child was dead."

"I'm looking for my biological parents.
I was born in Tbilisi in 1983.

"I was taken up for adoption
straight from the delivery room."

Families are trying to reconnect
through the VEDZEB social media platform

set up by the journalist
Tamuna Museridze,

who's also looking
for her biological parents.

In just a few months,

the group has reached
more than 83 thousand members.

Parents, children and siblings
with a similar story

are looking for each other.

In 28 days,

there were more than 21 thousand
posts and comments in our group.

And in 28 days,

there were more than
two million viewers of the group.

Scandals like this have erupted
in many countries,

but in Georgia, the scale is appalling.

Out of a population of 3.7 million,

as many as 100,000 families
may have been affected by this situation.

My name is Irakli Khvadagiani.
I'm a historian.

Since 2010, I've been working
at the Soviet Past Research Laboratory.

Georgia was under
Soviet totalitarian rule for 70 years.

At the time,

there was nothing that couldn't be solved
with a bribe or connections.

As a result, everything
from everyday items to human life

could become subject
to illicit trade and corruption.

Newborn trafficking emerged
as one of the most common patterns.

After the collapse of the Soviet Union,

the society had very high hopes

of achieving prosperity quickly.

Unfortunately, due to multiple factors

the country was plunged

into further tragedies and crises,

and our state virtually fell apart.

The old communist elite
returned to power,

creating perfect conditions

for the continuation
of criminal activities,

such as illicit newborn trafficking.

We're going to Gori.

It's a city in Georgia,

and we're visiting the mothers
who were told that their children died,

and they never saw
the bodies of the children.

The last time I was there,
they called the police

and the police took us to the station.

And the staff of the maternity hospital
was so rude. They were aggressive,

they were screaming, they were shouting

and asking the mothers,
"Well, you gave birth in 1990,

"and you're looking for the child now?
here have you been?

"Why weren't you
looking for your child before?"

Good morning, how are you?

- I'm so happy to see you!
- Hello!

- Did you all give birth here?
- Yes.

- Are your stories the same?
- Some details are different.

- I gave birth in 2005.
- Me, in 2006.

And me, in 1979.

- In 1991.
- In 1984.

After three days, they came
and said it was a premature birth

so they had to put the baby
in an incubator.

I was surprised because my child
was healthy, no issues whatsoever.

I was breastfeeding.

After being discharged from the hospital,

I went back there in the evening
with my mom to see the baby.

Then they said my child was dead.

I gave birth to a healthy,
normal, big boy with black hair.

They weighed and measured him,
put an ID band on him...

After three days, I asked about the baby.

They told me he had died.

Since then, I've been heartbroken.

A mother's instinct
tells me that he's alive.

I'm begging you, help me find my son.

The operation scheme had a few variations.

In one of them,
the woman went to the hospital

and three days later,
she was told that her baby passed

because of respiratory failure.

The family wasn't allowed
to bury the body.

It had to be done
at the hospital cemetery.

My husband requested our child's body

and heard that it had already been buried
together with several others,

so it was impossible to find it.

Have any of you been to the hospital
to talk about the cemetery's location?

- Yes.
- So, where is it?

They won't tell us.

I spent a whole month
running around the area,

looking for that grave on my own.

It's nowhere to be found.

There's no cemetery here,
and they're not saying anything.

- And what's in the files?
- Nothing.

We asked for them.

They said everything got flooded,
or that there was a fire...

Did any of you get your child's body
from the hospital?

They gave me a coffin.
I opened it, and it was empty.

I was being hospitalized.

My mother-in-law was shown the body
in a freezer, alongside others.

- Did you see your child?
- No, I didn't.

The parents paid
for their child's funeral,

believing in the existence
of the hospital cemetery.

However, we dug into the scheme.

We discovered that no maternity ward
in Georgia had a cemetery beside it.

What's more, until 2005,

no maternity hospital had an arrangement
with a funeral parlor.

It's a tough topic,

but they had prepared
frozen bodies of children

in case a family strongly demanded
the release for burial.

The newborn didn't stay with its mother.
The parent didn't see their child.

Nobody knew what happened on the first day
or night, or the second, or the third.

A woman who had just given birth

was in a fragile
mental and emotional state.

After being told that her baby was dead,

she lacked the strength

to focus on pursuing the truth.

She saw it as a tragedy,
regarded it as a loss,

and focused on coping with the trauma.

Moreover, a doctor was like a god.

His word was gospel.

My name is Tsinari Paatashvili.

Since 1995, I've been working as a nurse
at the Telavi Maternity Hospital.

After birth,

the initial care was always provided
in the delivery room,

in the mother's presence.

After that,

the newborns were transferred
to the neonatal ward.

During visiting hours,
each child was brought individually

to a special room separated by glass.

They could be seen,
but only from a distance.

Getting close to a newborn
was impossible.

Everything was done
in line with legal requirements.

It wasn't our idea.
There was no other way.

Tamuna, the police is here.

In a totalitarian state,

a citizen had no chance to conduct
an independent investigation.

They had no recourse to institutions.

People were afraid
that asking too many questions

and being overly active could turn
against them and cause problems.

That's why not many
risked opposing the system.

Who organized this gathering?

- I did. What's the problem?
- Follow me, please.

- What should I call you?
- Tamuna.

- I must warn you, we're recording this.
- Okay, then so are we.

- Can you come with us?
- Okay.

Hey up there!

They won't let the mothers in
or provide the documents.

They say everything
was destroyed in the fire.

We'd like to see a confirmation on paper.

We have the right to public information.

Only one person can come in,
not all of you.

Then I'll go.

I'd like to speak to someone
who can tell me

where the hospital cemetery was located.

No one like that works here.

Are you serious?

There's no one left
from the previous staff?

All staff are new.

No, there are employees who previously
worked with Jumber Gogiashvili

who sold those children off
like piglets at the market.

Last time I came here,
he was in his office and snuck out.

Take a look. The saliva without foam
has to reach the black line.

Since there's no DNA database in Georgia,

you send your sample to a lab in the US.

You're entered into the global database.

If anyone in the world takes the DNA test

and turns out to be your relative,

you'll receive a direct email
with the confirmation of kinship,

as well as that person's full name.

My name is Mari Murtskhvaladze.
I'm a professor at Ilia State University.

The DNA contains the genetic information
of every living organism.

Our eye color, nose shape, skin tone, etc.

That information is inherited.
Passed from parents to children,

from children to their offspring,
and so on.

DNA testing is the only method

that can confirm with 100% certainty

whether two people are mother and child.

Georgia is not a big country
in terms of demography.

We have about 3.5 million people.

In such a small state,
where many children have been adopted

by different families
under unclear circumstances,

there is a real concern

that nobody knows what their future holds.

It turns out

we're facing
the risk of incestuous relationships.

Two people with close genetic ties
may unknowingly start a family together.

We had a case
where two adopted people took a DNA test

and it turned out they were related.

The BBC reported that the identical twins

came together again
after finding each other on TikTok.

After confronting
the seemingly mysterious...

As for the twins,
we did a TV special on their case.

After it aired, a girl reached out to us.

She wrote that her mother
had a similar story.

She gave birth to two children that
same year and in the same hospital.

But she fell into a coma.

When she woke up,
they said that the children had died.

We put the girls in touch
with each other, ran a DNA test,

and look how it went.

Our biological mother,

if I'm not mistaken, is 48 years old.

She's been living and working
in Germany for years.

Despite the fact that all those years
I wanted to see her and talk to her,

in that moment, I realized
I didn't really want to meet her.

I wasn't ready yet.

I hadn't come to terms
with my feelings back then.

I wasn't ready to see that woman at all.

But for my sister's sake,
I agreed to visit her.

I said, "Fine, let's go there together."

Meeting her was very emotional for me.

How shall I put it?

Her scent, her heartbeat, her touch.

It all felt familiar.

Biology did its part.

My sister cried.

Everyone cried.

But not me.
I didn't shed a tear.

I don't know why.
Everyone has their way of coping.

But I understood

that I don't feel love
towards that person at all.

Our biological mother told us

that she couldn't regain consciousness
for three days after giving birth.

She was in a coma

so she doesn't really know
what happened at that time.

The only ones who know are her relatives

who recounted everything to us.

Our father told our mother
and her family that the children had died.

The truth is,

we were stolen.

The only difference is that in other cases

it was the doctors
who stole children from their parents.

I wasn't stolen by a doctor.

The initiative came directly
from my biological father.

Ta-dah!

Hello everyone!

I'm here with two girls: Ano and Tako.

Let's start by talking about
why you two were put up for adoption.

When our mother was pregnant, our father
didn't believe we were his children.

He beat her and kept her
in a constant state of stress.

- Why?
- Because it wasn't his...

Exactly, he was pathologically jealous.

That's why he decided
to get rid of both of us.

From what I've heard,
she left your father afterward.

After her husband, our father,
made the accusation

that none of the kids were his.

So our mother didn't choose to leave.

The people in the village
forced her to leave her house.

She was labeled as a slut.

Twenty years later, we're here
proving that she didn't cheat on him.

If I may jump in,
have you talked to your father?

- No.
- No, and we're not going to.

Hello?

Given that we've met with the twins
and spoke with them,

we're interested in hearing
your version of the story.

I'm not interested in this topic.

You need to know
she's not a woman, but a whore.

I'm telling you, she hadn't lived
with me for eight months.

I didn't even know she was pregnant.

They brought her to me
barely alive, looking sick.

She hadn't lived with me
for eight months.

I took her to the hospital,
and that's what happened.

Those kids were born.

Why couldn't they just die that day?

Did you see the children afterwards?

I don't care about them.
They're dead to me.

So they aren't yours?

I don't know.

Though they look a bit like me.

But even if they're mine, I don't care
because they've insulted me in public.

Why didn't they ask me,

"How did it all go down, daddy?"

If they think I'm trash,
they're trash to me, too.

They go out there and say
I made five thousand dollars.

So what do they think
I did with that cash?

Kind regards
to the one who took that money.

And stop insulting me!

Good evening!

You're watching "I'm searching,"

and I'm Tamuna Museridze.

Perhaps the first TV host in history

to speak openly about being adopted.

That's what prompted me
to start this show.

But I also want to find the person
who brought me into this world.

I want to help those who are searching
for their biological parents

or children sold in Georgia and beyond.

I'm searching...

For my sister and brother.

For my sister and brother.

For my mother, sister and the truth.

Our program will showcase the
extraordinary stories of those people,

but first, I decided to be
the protagonist of the opening episode.

I asked an illustrator I know

to make a composite sketch of my mother
based on my family's descriptions.

One of the main sources
of information for this portrait

was my godmother who remembers
my biological mother well.

The DNA test revealed

that I should look for my relatives
in the region of Samegrelo.

The closest match was Diana.

It was a girl
whose family was from Zugdidi

and I went to Samegrelo.

I asked her relatives to take DNA tests.

The most important thing

is to do the tests and confirm kinship.

At least one surname.

It will be a clue for us,
and a step forward.

Good morning, sir!

Hello!

We went from door to door
looking for traces of my mother.

We drove across
nearly all of western Georgia.

Hello.

Hi, Tamuna!
Hi from Cyprus.

Hi!

This is the story of an adopted boy

who ended up in Cyprus.

Right after birth, Panagiotis was taken
from the delivery room

to a babysitter's house,
where he spent about a year.

The notary confirmed
that his biological parents,

Nona and Shota Rukhadze,
gave up their parental rights.

But in reality,
Nona and Shota Rukhadze don't even exist.

I'm 20 years old.
My father...

My parents traveled to Georgia
in 2004 for my adoption.

They were staying there for one week.

They were staying at the Vere Inn Hotel.

As far as I know from my parents,
that building was not like a hotel.

It looked like a home

and even outside it didn't say
it was a hotel or something.

My name is Khatuti Kavteladze.

I was the manager of the hotel that was
located in the building behind me,

from 2003 to 2008.

We weren't involved in that personally.

We didn't know
what was going on, of course.

We just provided service to our guests.

Other than that,
our knowledge was limited to the fact

that parents would come to adopt children.

The parents would stay at our hotel

until all the paperwork was ready.

Then the person who handled
the preparation of documents would come

to speak with the adoptive parents.

It was a woman,

but I can't remember her name.

Well, there was an organization,

a "foundation,"

and there was a woman
named Zia Gelashvili,

and she had a friend
whose name was Arnold.

They were making false birth certificates,
notary documents,

lawyer's documents, court documents.

And they were selling
the children abroad.

As far as I can remember,
there were several children from Georgia

who were also adopted into Cyprus.

Not only Cyprus.
Especially into the USA.

You know, this organization...

had representatives in every country.

For example, in our country, it was
that woman; in the other, someone else.

We found emails in which those people
were saying,

"We take care of these children."

The children they were planning
to send to Cyprus, me and my friends.

But they were also talking
about another 15 children.

That they were waiting
for application from the United States.

And do you know
how much they paid for your adoption?

At the beginning, they were like,
"We have the child here,

"so if you're interested in this child,

"you have to send money
to us every month.

"And we will send
the child to a babysitter.

"Until you're able to adopt the child."

They paid for the court,
they paid for the lawyer,

for the babysitter and...

And approximately how much?

It was around 20,000 dollars
for the adoption, or more.

In Georgia, a boy was worth
1,500 rubles, and a girl, 1,000.

To compare with other prices at the time,
a good car was worth 4,000 rubles.

But the price for the boys and girls
sold abroad was equal.

Between 20 and 30 thousand dollars.

Everyone was involved in that scheme.

From hospital cleaning staff
to high-ranking government officials.

Unfortunately,
in connection with this case,

we sometimes get messages and calls

that fall into the category
of intimidation.

I'm not sure
if I should call them threats.

We're fully aware
that not all the feelings and impressions

evoked by this case are positive.

- Go say hi to mommy.
- Come here!

Come!

- It's wet.
- All soaked and dirty.

Come on, quick.

Chop-chop!

There are occasional threats

toward me and my family.

The gynecologists' relatives
call my husband

to warn him that I'll get shot
if I go to a specific place.

They call my husband
to make him pressure me

to stop doing what I do.

But I'm not intimidated by those threats.

Not because nobody can hurt me.
That's not it, of course.

It's because the mothers
are already searching for their children.

Even if something happens to me,
nothing can stop them now.

Hello?

My name is Giorgi Matiashvili.

I am a lawyer and a lecturer
at several universities.

I've been working on the issue of
human trafficking and associated crimes,

both in theory and practice,
for a long time.

It's harder to conduct the investigation
and find evidence today.

First of all,

people who were involved
in those practices 20-30 years ago

might be dead by now.

Many hospitals
have been closed or demolished.

There are no files in the archives
that could provide us with evidence.

Even if the evidence confirms

that human trafficking took place
in the 1970s and 1980s,

it's clear that people
who were responsible for that

can't be held criminally liable.

That's because
the statute of limitations has expired,

or due to the fact

that no adequate regulations
existed at that time.

We're excited because
I've just received the DNA results

of the person I suspect is the child
of my biological mother's sister.

We're checking the results.

If they say that I'm her cousin,

then that woman must be my mother.

You've got to be kidding!

The first generational line.

We've found my mother.

Today is the day
I've decided to call my biological mother

and talk to her.

I finally broke through and wrote to her.

The whole story adds up,
so I won't drag it out.

I'll just call her now.

- Hello, good evening, Mrs. Madona.
- Hello.

Here's the situation:
I need your help.

- Mine?
- Yes.

I was born in Tbilisi,

at Maternity Hospital Number Two,
in September 1984.

Okay, go on.

After ten days,
I was put up for adoption.

It was October second, to be exact.

I see. And...?

My godmother was the one
who handled the whole thing.

I understand,
but why are you telling me all this?

Because I know that you had a baby
on September 22nd, 1984.

- Me?
- Yes.

What are you talking about?

- Maybe you've got the wrong person?
- No.

I don't know where you got these details
or what this is about.

I'd like to know if you're my mother.

- Excuse me?
- I need to know if you're my mother.

I'm sure I'd be happy
if you were my daughter,

but the chances are slim.

This doesn't ring a bell.

What do you mean I gave birth then?

No such thing happened.

- You must be thinking of someone else.
- So you didn't give birth that day?

- No, I didn't.
- No?

No. I was pregnant
but had a miscarriage at seven months.

The next time I called her,
I heard that she did give birth.

The baby was weak,
so they took it to an incubator.

Did you see your baby's body?

No, I didn't.

I was told my baby had died.
They made up some cause,

but I don't remember it now.
It was long ago.

I think they said the baby had been
suffocated by the umbilical cord.

The new feelings toward my biological
mother sent me on a guilt trip.

I think that's because
adopted children feel social pressure

to believe that their mother
is the one who raised them,

and they shouldn't look
for their biological parents.

Despite all the weight
this story carries,

despite how difficult all of this is,

it also brings me happiness.

I know I have a family
who would do anything for me.

I have a mother who fights,
struggles, and lives for me.

You woke up, my sunshine.

Tako came into my life when I was 44.

So that was...

pretty late.

But the day I became her mother,

I instantly felt young and happy.

My friend brought the child
straight to my door.

She worked at a clinic.

The only thing she told me

was that the mother had said
she couldn't afford raising her baby.

And that she was crying

when she left the newborn.
That's all I knew.

Times were different.

Today, the state is involved
in all matters

concerning adoption
and upbringing of a child.

In the past,

there was no oversight.

From what my mother told me,
they knew they had to pay.

They also knew
that the papers needed to be arranged.

But they didn't realize
that it was all illegal.

That it was part of a scheme
orchestrated by doctors

who took children
to place them for adoption.

I'm grateful
that she responded the way she did.

She didn't make a big deal
out of the fact

that I didn't give birth to her.

She said, "Thank you, Mom."

You're my real mother,
and it makes me very happy.

- What do you have up there?
- Candy.

I tried to keep her engaged
with lots of activities.

She did ice skating,

played the piano and violin, and painted.

I did everything I could
to create good conditions for her

and raise her the right way.

I did all of that
in case she ever found out

I was her adoptive mother,

so she wouldn't resent me
for anything she might've lacked.

- What about Ano's cats?
- Don't even start.

I think her cats are wonderful.

Ano and I are besties.

She's so nice! She calls me.

Okay, now I'm jealous.

No, sweetheart.

You're both my girls,
but you come first. Period.

Pick up, Nino!

- Hello, my dear!
- Hi, Nino!

Ano's adoptive mom's name is Nino.

I have a very good relationship with Nino

because she says
she considers both girls her daughters.

earlier today, I told my mom
that she and Ano are more alike,

and I'm more like you.

Totally.

Mom disagrees.

You and Ano have similar personalities.
You stand up for yourselves.

Amy and I are more composed.

- That's why Ano is jealous.
- Right?

She was even more jealous
in the beginning.

She has eased up a bit.

Say hi to Ano for me.

Sure, but you can call her yourself

since she's your best friend.

I've really bonded with Ano's mother.

If we had known about it all,

we would've raised the girls together

to spare them the trauma.

Hello?

I'm out of breath because I just
walked up the stairs and I'm exhausted.

I need to tell you something
before I let you speak.

Please do.

Had I known from the start the kind
of buzz you'd stir up around me...

I wouldn't have spoken to you at all.

But if I hadn't stirred it up,

I would've never known
that you're my biological parent.

Hold on. Let me say something, please.

- I don't want anything to do with you.
- Mrs. Madona, let me finish.

- Why are you yelling at me?
- I'm not!

- Please, listen to me.
- Why?

Because you're my biological parent.
I'm calling you to...

- But I'm praying it's not true!
- I get that. I did, too.

But I did the DNA tests.

Say what? Who did you test?

One of your relatives.
She'll tell you herself.

- Just let me say one thing, Mrs. Madona.
- You're going to be the death of me!

What are you talking about, lady?
You sold me at the hospital!

- I sold you?
- Yes! That's exactly right.

If I'm being honest,

that made me feel really bad.

But I'm still hoping something changes
once we meet face to face.

Tamuna's biological mother reveals
the identity of the father.

My biological father lives in Zugdidi,
in the Samegrelo region.

After we found out
who the biological father of Tamuna is,

we couldn't find peace.

To be honest,
we didn't sleep that whole week.

We didn't know who to expect.

I typed "Gurgen Khorava" into Facebook

and it turned out
I had him in my friends list.

As soon as I saw his photo,

I had no doubt he was my father.

I was just standing, looking around,

and I couldn't say anything
because I was so shocked.

And then everybody was asking,

"Have you drunk some medicine?
Why are you so calm?"

And I was saying I was in shock.

I got emotional.

Must be the old age.

The tears just started flowing.

It's really hard

when you don't know you have a child,

and all of a sudden,
you get a call from an adult person,

a grown, 40-year-old woman

who refers to you as...

Dad.

My biological father
is a very well-known choreographer.

Despite being 72 years old,
he still teaches dance to kids.

My biological father's wife passed away
from cancer 20 years ago,

leaving him with two children.

- Try on this costume.
- I've just put one on.

- Khevsuruli.
- No idea which one it is.

- I think it's too small for me.
- No, it's perfect.

Go ahead.
This part first, and then that one.

Sandro, come help her get dressed up.

He's a dancer and choreographer
like my husband,

who's an actor
of Rustaveli National Theatre in Georgia.

It's unbelievable.

- Don't embarrass me.
- Now what?

Now, another dance.

I've thought about the fact

that women tend to look for men
who resemble their fathers.

But how come I married one

who resembles
the father I'd never met before?

Jump up a bit.

This is my last group.

Come see their performance.
What year was that?

I don't remember.

It was when I went to Ukraine
with the older students.

I've always dreamed
of an in-law like him.

And I'm very glad that we've met.

I really hope
this relationship keeps growing.

But what brings me the most joy

is seeing how happy Tamuna is.

I have been searching for him for 8 years.

But he wasn't searching for me

because he didn't even know
that my biological mother was pregnant.

And it was...

a big shock for him.

Back in my day,

there was an actor called Alain Delon.

Everyone had a crush on him.

All women were crazy about him.

I can't say I was like Delon,

but women were drawn to me too,
and I made the most of it.

I don't often get angry,

but I'm really upset

that I didn't know anything
for 40 years.

I don't want to speak ill
of her biological mother,

but I wish I had known about it all
from the beginning.

I came here with Sandro
to hear my mother's version of the story.

To understand what really happened.

I heard about Tamuna three months ago,

when she called us for the first time
and said that she was probably our cousin.

At first, all of us
had mixed feelings about it.

But it also made us happy

because I have just one aunt,

and I had no idea
that she might've had a child.

Tamuna's mother
is going through a tough time now.

Both with her health and her emotions.

Many things from her past
have come to light

and various feelings hit her all at once.

Due to her health issues,

we're planning to get together with her
tomorrow in a close family circle.

Let's drink to this moment of happiness.

- Do you think Tamuna's mother sold her?
- No, her grandma.

- So why are you calling Madona out?
- Because they took the money.

Grandma didn't take any money.
What are you talking about, guys?

They definitely didn't leave empty-handed.

Maybe they got some gifts from Tbilisi?

You think my dad gave them
chocolate boxes in a bag?

- I have a problem.
- What's wrong?

- They're making a big fuss.
- Who?

Madona with her nephews and nieces

who were acting so dramatic
at the restaurant yesterday,

that the entire Vienna was stunned.

What's their deal?

They argue that Madona is innocent,

that it was the hospital staff
or her mother who sold or stole her baby.

They ask me
why I don't want to believe that.

Not in a normal voice,
but full-on yelling.

Go there,
have a calm conversation with her

and see what happens.

If she gets hysterical, just stand up,
say thank you, and leave.

After all,
you didn't go there for the drama.

You just want to talk
like normal people do.

From the day I spoke to her
and she said that she was...

She was...

praying that I wasn't her daughter

and she was ashamed of me,

I didn't want to meet her
and didn't want to see her,

but all of my friends
and my father and my husband

say that I have to go. So let's go.

Let's see what happens.

- What's wrong? Are you nervous?
- No, why would I be?

Exactly.

Are you cold? Want my jacket?

I have something to tell you.

To me, family is, and always has been,
the most important thing.

But you're not included.

My God, I didn't break up
a man's family 40 years ago,

and now it's backfiring on me.

- Did you love him?
- Love? What are you talking about?

That was out of the question.
We were very good friends.

I was in tech school,
and he taught dance.

He asked if I had time
and invited me over a few times.

That was it.

It only happened once,
on the spur of the moment.

I never met him since.

My whole life fell apart in that moment.

Do you know what it means
for a 20-year-old girl to get such news?

In a small community?

What would people say?

- Were you in Samegrelo at the time?
- No, I left for Tbilisi right away.

I swear on my mother's grave.
I spent the whole summer there.

- Did you go with your mother?
- Yes.

The woman went mad
when she found out I was pregnant.

Five days after the birth,
two women came to me.

I remember one of them.

She was tall and had a dark complexion.

They told me that unfortunately,
my daughter had passed.

They made me sign something.

They said they had a cemetery for babies
and they would bury her.

Or I could take the body if I wanted to.

I'm not a stolen child,
do you understand me?

My grandmother said
she'd feel more at ease

if the baby ended up with a good family
instead of being left at the hospital.

- Who said that?
- My grandma. Those were her words.

You're not allowed
to mention my mother. I mean it.

They told me the baby died,
and that's it.

This is our first and last conversation.

I don't feel a thing.
No emotions at all.

I'm glad it happened.

She gave me an ultimatum:
either I lie, or our relationship is over.

I replied that our relationship
was over 40 years ago.

I stood up and left.

What hurt me the most
was her answer to one of my questions.

It broke my heart.

I asked her how she had intended
to name the baby. And she said she hadn't.

"How come you hadn't?"

You must've had some thoughts
and feelings during those eight months.

Because every pregnant woman
is thinking of a name for the baby.

She said she didn't think
about it at all.

Tamuna Museridze is one of
the strongest women

I've ever met.

And, as fate would have it,

it turned out I'm related to Musera,
as I like to call her.

We're distant family.
We're just related by blood.

- Any updates on your case?
- With my biological mother?

You've never met such a sweet
and kind person. She's just lovely.

Sounds like our daddy.

They're family, after all.

- I blocked her.
- What did she do to upset you that much?

She doesn't think she did anything wrong.

She feels innocent.

She spoke to me from a distance.

She didn't even stand up
to greet me when I came in.

She just pointed at a seat.

Some things were just meant to happen.

Just imagine
if my biological mother had raised me.

Oh no!

If our father had raised us, we likely
would've become heavy drinkers too.

I'm trying not to think
that something bad happened to me.

Instead, I'm doing something new.

It's awesome
you're on Georgia's Got Talent. Congrats!

I'm switching things up this time.
I've added Tako to my routine.

I also became a dancer.

There will be a large frame.
Tako on one side, me on the other.

And we'll start dancing.

It'll give us a mirror effect.

Look, it's like a reflection in a mirror.

If I could turn back time,
I would still act the same way.

I wouldn't change a thing.

I found out that I have a twin sister
and three more siblings:

Lana, Nika and another Ana.

I consider them a great gift life gave me.

My biological mother is a gift too

because she teaches me to be compassionate

and shows me that we all need to forgive.

For me,

the best part was that I wasn't left alone
when I found out I had been adopted

and my story
turned out to be so difficult.

There are many people around me
with similar life stories.

They're just scared to talk about it

because in Georgian mindset,

an adopted child
is still seen as a source of shame.

I suspect that the true scale
of those practices

is far greater than we think.

There are more cases
of baby trafficking to be uncovered.

Those eight years of my life
were filled with emotion,

both good and bad.

But in the end,
I can say it was time well spent.

Today, when Sandro asks me
what I plan to do

now that I've found
what I was looking for,

I reply that now I'm able to dedicate
a hundred times more hours

to helping those who are searching
for their children or parents,

just as I once did.

Tamuna's relationship with her father
and half-siblings continues to grow.

Why the red hair? It looks good on you!

You think so?

I don't know. She doesn't like it.

I don't like colorful hair at all.

Revised and Synchronized by
FAST TITLES MEDIA