Original subtitles

BASED ON A TRUE STORY

JANUARY 9, 2013

EIGHT AND A HALF MONTHS PRIOR TO ASUNTA'S DEATH

Hi, Dad.

Come in.

How's my granddaughter?

Do you find the question odd?

When you and Rosario were together, you made a point of staying away from me.

I don't want to talk about that now.

What do you want to talk about?

I was wondering if you could help me out, anything would help.

I knew what you wanted the second you arrived.

So don't give me a hard time.

If you hadn't been such a pushover, you wouldn't have to embarrass yourself.

You'll have food and a bed,

but don't ask for a dime... especially not to get back together with that woman.

How's Aunt Eugenia? Still living in Bilbao?

When the fuck will you learn?

That son of a bitch.

As soon as he got his PhD, they hired him in the US.

Weren't you classmates in Pamplona?

Well, not exactly. He was just starting when I graduated.

I ended up in Santiago. I guess we can't all be foreign correspondents.

My Aitor worked so hard.

That's what I meant. Nothing in life is free.

Is 6,000 enough?

- Yes, that's fine. Thank you. - Sign it.

If I die, Aitor needs to know I gave you some money.

All of this will ultimately go to him.

I'll pay you back first.

Actually, he already knows.

Thank you so much.

Isn't it cozy? And it's a bargain.

If you don't mind, I'll pay the deposit in cash.

Hey, what Mr. Rajoy doesn't know... Well, it's not like he knows much anyway.

I'll leave the key by the front door.

Hey,

if you need any help moving, my brother-in-law has a van.

No, no need. Thank you.

Have a nice day.

RODRIGO SERRANO DIVORCE SETTLEMENT REQUEST

Say it to my face, Rosario. Got it?

- You let Serrano threaten me? - Bye.

To make me sign the divorce settlement? What? Is your boyfriend in there?

Your daughter's here. Do you want to fight in front of her?

I didn't have to be like this, Alfonso, but you don't answer the phone.

You don't take my call... What's with those emails?

You took away my family. I have nothing to say to you.

That guy sleeps around even though his wife is expecting.

The thought alone makes me sick.

I know you'll never understand, but I do want you to be happy.

Do you like humiliating me?

Let's stop hurting each other.

Just sign the settlement so we can move on.

Do it for you, me, and our daughter.

Common courtesy, Rosario. Common courtesy. That's all I'm asking for at this point.

THE ASUNTA CASE

I want cookies! I can't find the cookies!

- I can't find them anywhere... - Dad, we already had breakfast.

Weren't you gonna get dressed on your own?

Okay, move it.

Okay, Dad, we're almost there. Ángela is waiting for us.

She's making you broccoli rabe.

Are you coming?

Open the door.

- This isn't my house. - It's your daughter's. Open up.

Open the door, Dad!

Open the door!

What are you doing? Dad.

Open the door, Dad.

Dad, open the door!

What if I tell Ángela to set a place for me as well?

Wanna have lunch together?

I'll call the courthouse and tell them I'm not coming in. I'll go tomorrow. Okay?

Come on, Dad.

Careful.

- Luis is staying for lunch. - So I heard. Hi, Dad.

- I'm sorry, Luis, but I can't tonight. - Damn it, Ángela!

Go inside, Dad. I need to wash my hands. Go on.

He's gonna be a nightmare.

Fine, go. If you come in, he won't let you go.

Thanks.

Hello?

Good morning, Your Honor.

I'm letting you know

we're going with Rosario and Alfonso to search their homes.

They don't know what's coming.

Are you there, Charo?

- Did you sleep well? - Shall we, partner?

As best I could.

Have some breakfast, sweetie. Fuel up. Today is important, okay?

We need to be very calm in front of the judge.

Good morning.

Good morning. We're leaving.

Turn around.

We'll be very consistent in our statements.

And we'll tell the truth because we have nothing to hide.

Okay, dear?

Today we get to say what we know, that we're innocent. That's all we'll say.

No, you won't be testifying today.

Then where are we going?

- Where are we going? - Go on, man!

Holy shit. Look at that, Cristina.

No... This is absurd. The street should be blocked off.

Fuck, this looks like a goddamn carnival. What the...?

- We can't get out. - This is so embarrassing.

- Cristina, get me out of here. - Fucking move!

- Goddamn it! - Get me out of here, Javier!

Calm down, Rosario. Don't look at them.

Look out!

Get me out of here!

Calm down, Rosario.

- Should we get out? - Let's try. No hesitation.

Out of the way! Back the fuck up!

Get the hell out of the way!

Out of the way!

Back up!

Holy shit!

You bitch!

You bitch!

Let's get in there.

- Murderer! - Murderer!

Murderer!

Murderer!

This is nuts!

- Someone screwed up! - Yes, ma'am. Did you...?

Rodrigo!

- Send officers! - Why are they yelling at us?

Alfonso! They're screaming, calling us murderers!

Why are they doing that?!

They're just bored and out of work. They came to insult us...

The sooner we start, Your Honor...

The sooner this circus ends. Upstairs, everyone!

- Get in the elevator. - Please, Rosario is ill.

You shouldn't put her through this. Please, don't make her do this.

Well, here we are.

Where it all started, right?

Shall we?

Your bedroom?

This way.

The clothes you were wearing on Saturday, where are they?

I was wearing

this dress.

- Can I put it here? - Yes.

I was wearing this and...

and...

and this.

All right.

So...

What did you do when you got home?

- When? - Saturday.

I came in here...

I walked around the living room,

and then I went to her room.

I have a question.

Where are the swimsuits you said you went to get in Montouto?

Excuse me? I don't understand.

Sure, the swimsuits. You said you went to Montouto on Saturday, the 21st,

to get some of Asunta's bathing suits. Where are they?

Oh, right.

They're...

They're...

- They're... - Where are you going, Rosario?

They're in here.

Here they are. These are the swimsuits.

No, hold on.

- Let's get this straight, Ms. Porto. - Yes?

You went to Montouto to get them and left her here.

Yes.

And when you got back, you discovered she was gone.

But you were calm enough and had enough time

to fold the swimsuits and leave them there.

Is that right?

Is that what you're telling me?

I don't understand. I don't know what you're...

Ask him. He understands what I'm saying.

- Who? - Your husband.

- No, I don't understa... - Ex-husband.

You don't? You never have a clue, do you?

If I mention photos, you still won't know what I'm talking about, will you?

If I don't know what you're talking about, that's all I can say. What photos?

Some photos... They're, let's just say, eye-opening.

- What photos? - Doesn't ring a bell?

Let's go to your place. Maybe it will jog your memory.

- Alfonso's, Your Honor? - Yes, let's go.

Now? Rodrigo...

It's okay. Come on.

I already told you. They killed her.

They killed her to get the inheritance. Her grandfather left her everything.

I'm her damn cousin. I know the whole story.

You motherfucker!

You murderer!

Come on, drive.

Try to tune them out. I know it's hard, Rosario, but don't listen to them.

Why? Why are they doing this to me?

Murderer!

Rosario!

You fucking bitch!

I'll be right here.

Murderer!

Let's go.

I don't understand. Why...?

Give her space! Let her breathe!

- I'll handle it. What's wrong? - Calm down.

- Give her some space! - Calm down!

- What's the meaning of all this? - Calm down!

Take whatever the fuck you want from my house!

No matter where you look, you won't find a thing.

Wanna bet?

Nothing in here either, Your Honor.

What is that?

A pair of shorts.

I wear them around the house.

- Shorts. - Yes. Do you have a problem with that too?

Me? Not at all. Do you?

UV light doesn't reveal anything significant in this room.

Nothing on the walls, bed, or shorts.

See? Nothing to find.

Your Honor, this computer is missing. It was there before, but now it's gone.

Mr. Basterra, come with me.

You're right. We won't find anything, especially if you make it disappear.

Where's the computer that was here during the first search?

You don't think they did it?

We may not have

enough circumstantial evidence to request pre-trial custody.

- Period. - Didn't you hear them?

Weren't you at the searches? They keep contradicting themselves,

changing their stories. They were sick of Asunta.

They were tired of her and got rid of her.

It didn't seem like that to me at all during the search, Luis.

The apartment is like a shrine to their daughter.

- The drawings, the photos... - The photos. Exactly, the photos.

Need I remind you of the type of photos Basterra took? Wanna see 'em again?

If I had a daughter, I wouldn't take those.

- They prove nothing! - Says you!

You two have been with them since the start. Well?

There's a lot of circumstantial evidence against her.

And it's odd that Alfonso doesn't question anything his wife does.

Per the analysis of the car,

there's no evidence the car was on the road where she was found. None.

No dirt, no gravel...

How the fuck would there still be any after the long drive back to Santiago?

The rear floor mats are missing though. Those could reveal something.

You want evidence? There were traces of Asunta's vomit.

If you were a father, Luis...

And there's the catchall phrase.

The classic lifeline. "I'm a dad. You're not."

What more do you want

apart from the gas-station footage of Rosario and Asunta?

The mother, fine. But what do you have on him?

No phone records.

No camera footage of him that afternoon, none.

'Cause he avoided them. He knew exactly where they were.

- What about the gas-station footage? - He was hiding in the back seat.

What about when the neighbor saw Rosario leave the building?

He must've been in the trunk with the body.

How the fuck would I know? We've seen crazier stuff.

How do you explain the lorazepam purchases and the fainting spells with her dad?

Why would they give her lorazepam for months?

Don't ask me! Here are the lab results. Maybe they were building up her tolerance.

Come on, Luis. Why build up the girl's tolerance

if you're gonna give her 27 tablets the day you kill her?

Why defend your wife even after she lied to you?

She said she didn't take her to Montouto, that she left her at home.

The discarded tissue has her and Asunta's DNA. And we have the twine.

What if it was about an inheritance, like that woman said on TV? Come on, man!

We don't know how, but it's related. Those two knew what they were doing.

It wasn't about an inheritance.

- No. - Asunta didn't inherit anything.

Fine. If you want, I'll let them go.

Try explaining that to all those people out there.

Those people already convicted them.

- Well, that's not my fault. - I mean...

This hasn't been the most discrete investigation.

- You accusing me of something, Pedrito? - No, of course not...

We're all in this together.

- All of us. - Then act like it.

Let's get to work. We have suspects to examine.

If, like you said, Alfonso hid from the cameras,

why'd he let us see Rosario?

Saturday, September 21st.

We know who made

the scrambled eggs with mushrooms at Mr. Basterra's place.

- What did Asunta drink? - I don't think she drank anything.

But I think she had a yogurt drink for dessert.

And I took the medication Alfonso gave me.

The medication?

I'm on medication, so I took what Alfonso put on the table.

He's so precise and on top of things.

I'm sort of all over the place.

- I forget things. - The perfect couple.

I still don't understand how... Anyway.

Look,

you said Asunta then walked home, right?

Yes. She almost always did.

So I had the chance to smoke a cigarette after lunch.

Look, Ms. Porto, I'm going to ask you a question

so we can get things straight here.

When you two first reported your daughter's disappearance,

you mentioned different times.

- Well, I remembered later. - Oh, you remembered later.

When you were trying to save her life,

you didn't remember the exact time or care.

- But you did two days later. - That's not true, Your Honor. It's not.

I was so nervous, so incredibly nervous, that I didn't even know what I was saying.

So you left home around 6:00 p.m.,

reached the door to the garage, if I'm not mistaken, around 6:11 p.m.,

and then you remembered

that you had forgotten some bags, right?

No, just one! A plastic bag to put the bathing suits in.

And when I went home to get the bag,

she insisted on coming with me.

- Wow, a new detail. - No, it's not new.

- Yes, it's a new detail. - No, it isn't.

- Sure, it is, Ms. Porto. - Your Honor, no, it isn't.

You told the police your daughter never left the house.

You said, "I left her at home."

I could've sworn I did.

Your Honor, you're badgering her. Any mother in that situation...

A mother doesn't forget where she last saw her child.

Look, Ms. Porto, are you even vaguely interested

in finding who killed her?

Could you at least tell me when you remembered you took her to Montouto?

- Or did you just remember? - No.

No, I think I remembered...

I remembered on Monday night.

Monday?

Monday? Three days later, and now you tell us?

Did you tell Alfonso?

- No. - He doesn't know.

It could look like I abandoned her or something.

I'm just so scatter-brained.

She had been given over twenty lorazepam.

Over twenty, okay?

When your daughter went downstairs,

who helped you get her in the car?

Your daughter was so doped up

that there was no way she could've walked by herself.

She said she was dizzy, but I thought she was pulling my leg!

- She was such a drama queen! - She had taken over twenty tablets.

She was perfectly fine. She's my daughter! I know her!

Was she perfectly fine when, according to three music teachers,

one July day your daughter couldn't stay on her feet?

Her father held on to her to keep her from collapsing.

Despite all that, you two didn't do anything about it,

and you accused her of making it up, lying...

No! Alfonso must've said that.

I said, "She needs to go home immediately."

Look, do you at least remember where you left her the day before?

Friday, the 20th.

I imagine she didn't come with you on your romantic yacht ride.

That's right. Don't look at me like that.

- We spoke to Vicente Dozón. - Vicente has nothing to do with this.

That's why he's at home with his wife and kid, while you're here.

I called Alfonso and told him I had to go to Vigo.

And I spent all day with Vicente on his boat. That's the truth.

Yes, I lied. That's true... And I left Asunta by herself.

But then I called Alfonso and told him I'd be home late.

Look.

How was your relationship with Alfonso after the divorce?

We are no longer speaking. After all those threats,

all those threatening emails, and all those things he said...

"You ruined my life," and "How could you be with

a guy that cheats on his pregnant wife?"

All right.

And "I know all your darkest secrets. One day I'll reveal them."

- All those things. - You got divorced in February.

You kept seeing Vicente,

and, four months later,

you were admitted to the hospital with depression.

Why?

I'd like to spend more time with you.

We wouldn't need to sneak around all the time.

Come on, Charo. We've talked about this.

Plenty of times, in fact.

Right, but things have changed.

Oh, really? What the hell changed, Charo?

Well, for example,

I've been divorced for four months.

You should thank me.

You got rid of that limp-dick husband of yours.

I just had a son.

I have a family.

You think I'll leave my wife?

Don't look at me like that.

You know the deal... If it works for you, great. If not...

- You can't love her that much, if... - If what, Charo? What?

Don't talk about my family!

- Who said anything about them? - You did!

I'm talking about you... So, what are you doing with me, then?

Don't start.

Don't, Charo.

Unbelievable.

Vicente,

come on. We're gonna have a blast in Berlin next week.

I can't go.

- We already bought the tickets. - My son takes up all my time.

We're fucking done, Charo!

- What did you just say? - You heard me.

Is there someone else, Vicente? Have you met someone?

- You're off your fucking rocker. - Vicente.

Seriously? Vicente...

- I already paid for the room, okay? - Are you seriou...? Vice...

Vicente.

Vicente!

This can't be happening.

I talked to the doctor.

He said your eye thing is from stress

and from your lupus.

Charito, they upped your meds.

But don't worry.

They'll run some tests, and you'll be here at least another week.

But don't worry. You'll have plenty of grub here.

Don't worry about Asunta. She'll stay with Dolores.

Just focus on you... and on getting better.

You're the love of my life, Charo.

It's true.

You and Asunta.

We're divorced. Well, a piece of paper says we are,

but love doesn't disappear. It doesn't.

You deserve someone who looks out for you, who really takes care of you. That's me.

As long as we remain united.

Asunta and I are your family, okay?

There's no room for anyone else.

Who will take better care of you than us?

- Nobody. - Nobody.

And it's up to you to keep it that way.

Leave him, and I'll be here for whatever you need.

Dear, we'll be just fine. You'll see.

All right, let's get to it.

Mr. Basterra, why did you become close with Ms. Porto again, all of a sudden?

In late June, after she was admitted, you reached an agreement in the hospital.

She's the mother of my child.

If there's anything I can do to help her, I'm indirectly helping my daughter.

By giving her lorazepam?

Do you have that at home?

No, it's at Rosario's.

The day Asunta was murdered, didn't you give Charo a pill after lunch?

- Here's the thing... - What's "the thing"?

Did you or did you not give her a tablet?

- Only if she forgets. - Only when she forgets.

How long have you been handling Ms. Porto's medication?

- I didn't say I... - How long?

Honestly, I don't remember.

Let's see.

"On July 5th, July 17th, and September 16th, 2013,

a box of lorazepam was dispensed to the patient Alfonso Basterra Camporro."

That's from a pharmacy near your home.

Fifty tablets the first time, then 25, then another 50.

Does that ring a bell, Mr. Basterra?

Look, Charo was very ill.

By that time, I had realized she was deeply depressed again...

No... That's not what this is about, Mr. Basterra.

Don't play the martyr. I don't buy it.

That is the truth, Your Honor.

It's also true you were reading at home the day your daughter died, right?

- Do you want the name of the book? - I'd rather know where your computer is.

During the search, I told you I don't know what happened to it.

Maybe they should've guarded my place better.

Are you questioning the abilities of the Civil Guard?

- No, I didn't mean... - Then stick to my questions!

Can I speak or will you keep interrupting me?

Calm down, Alfonso.

Try to stick to the questions, like the honorable judge said.

The tablets, Mr. Basterra! The tablets!

They were for Charo.

I asked a good friend of ours, Dr. Pérez, to prescribe them.

I just picked them up.

Asunta felt faint again on the 23rd, six days after you bought the second box.

And on September 18th, two days after the last box.

She was so ill, her mother kept her home from school.

Were you aware of these spells?

Of course. I even picked her up on some of those days.

It wasn't worth seeing a doctor?

It was an isolated incident.

Mr. Basterra, Asunta told her music teacher

that you two were making her take some white powders.

What were they, Mr. Basterra?

It was just allergy medication.

Right, but Asunta doesn't have...

Asunta didn't have allergies.

We have a written statement from her pediatrician.

Did you know a lorazepam overdose can knock anyone on their ass?

What's your accusation?

I'm accusing you of sedating your adopted daughter

so you could look at her like a real father never would.

Now do you remember the type of photos we found?

You gonna play dumb in prison too?

- You can't be insinuating...? - Insinuating? No.

I'm not insinuating anything.

I'm accusing you of manipulating Ms. Porto into drugging and asphyxiating Asunta,

of thinking you'd get away with pinning it all on your wife. That's my accusation.

For God's sake, how could you say that? I loved my daughter more than anything.

Yeah, sure.

Are you okay, dear?

Charo!

I'm exhausted, Alfonso.

I'm exhausted from vomiting so much.

I think I vomited up my pills.

It's okay, just your nausea. You know how it is.

How'd it go with the judge?

Well, I don't know.

At this point, I don't know...

If you did what we discussed, you have no need to worry, dear.

Do you hear me?

We'll be out soon. You'll see.

God willing, Alfonso.

Are you feeling better? Have you calmed down?

Tough day.

I thought...

we'd have friends out there,

supporting us.

Not all those people yelling at us.

Honey, what do you expect?

Our friends are in their respective homes, supporting us unconditionally.

Cuca, Tino, Adaula...

Everyone.

The people out there are lowlifes, Charo. They have nothing better to do.

They're just glued to their TVs, obsessed with scandals. That's all.

They don't matter. Our friends... are the ones that matter.

They're the good guys. They all support us.

You know?

Can't you see that, fortunately, they don't have any evidence against us?

We're just here because they're doing due diligence.

They should leave us out of it!

Get up. We're taking you to Teixeiro.

What?

They need to read you the order for incarceration.

The judge ordered pre-trial custody for you both.

What?

That's impossible! Listen, officers!

Officers!

Alfonso,

say something.

We'll fix this, Charo.

This won't stand.

We'll talk to Rodrigo. This must be a mistake. It must be.

I'm certain you're innocent. Do you hear me?

- Yes, I feel the same about you. - I know, dear. I know.

That is the foundation of our success. Okay?

We'll be together very soon.

I'm sorry I hurt you so deeply.

Cristina? Teixeiro?

What's the plan, Rodrigo?

Did you see all those people waiting outside their house?

They went from neighbors to lynch mob.

Yes, I was there. The whole thing was very unpleasant.

So what do you think?

They were sent to prison. It's like they've already been convicted.

Look, Dolores,

I can no longer represent Rosario and Alfonso.

What?

You think they're guilty too? Is that it?

The problem is I don't do criminal law. I can't help them.

Sure, but you didn't answer my question.

Do you think they're guilty?

That's up to the courts to decide.

She was my goddaughter, you know? I promised I'd take care of her.

There's no way.

There's no way they could've... How?

How could a mother and father kill their daughter?

I'm not gonna lie to you, Dolores. There's serious evidence.

But I know just the lawyer who can help them.

What do you want to do now, Dad?

Start from the beginning.

Well? You people do this every day, right?

You take your photos and write your stories.

Just let the poor girl rest in peace, man.

- Do you live around here? - Of course, I do.

At the end of the road there.

Right where you parked.

I told your colleagues, but they ignored me.

Do they believe me now?

- What colleagues? - Wait, aren't you journalists?

Worse. Lawyers.

Whose?

Ms. Rosario Porto's.

That poor family.

I bet they're really suffering right now.

And I know they're innocent!

Oh, really? How do you know?

The night the girl was killed,

my wife and I were on a walk through here after 11:00 p.m.

And we didn't see a thing!

- Eleven o'clock? - God as my witness!

It was 11:15 or 11:20 when we walked past this spot.

We were just a span away. There was no girl, no nothing.

The Civil Guard doesn't believe me.

- Right. What's your name? - Xosé Miranda Ramos.

Dad, the Civil Guard interviewed him.

Okay, but show me the police report, please,

the one Alfonso and Rosario filed.

- Sure it was 11:00 p.m.? - I'm telling you, 11:15, 11:20.

Look, Dad.

They filed the police report at 10:31 p.m. on September 21st.

You said you didn't see the girl on your walk.

I'm telling you, there wasn't anything there!

Rosario and Alfonso were already at the station.

- Hi, Rosario. - Hello.

- Do you remember me? - Of course. Juan José Domínguez.

From that board of trustees.

Please, call me Juanjo.

Where's Rodrigo?

He and I spoke. We think it's best if I take over.

Why didn't you two call me sooner?

Because I shouldn't be in here.

They're saying such horrible things.

Who do you think is behind all this, Juanjo?

The next few days will be tough, Rosario.

If you trust and listen to me, everything will be fine.

We'll petition for release on bail.

That prick Malvar has it in for you two, but I'll prove you're innocent.

Please, you must take care of her ashes.

- Give them to Dolores. - No.

Why not? Her godmother loves her so much.

I'm sure she does,

but nobody loves a daughter more than her mother.

And you'll want her close by as soon as I get you out of here... Right?

I'm not a bad mother.

I didn't do anything to my daughter.

Do you believe me?

If I didn't, I wouldn't be here.

And I'll prove it.

It'll be fine. Don't worry.

Of course, you're nervous.

They're going to fully sedate you, take you into the OR... and retrieve eggs.

I'm worried too.

Would you mind not making me more nervous?

Antonio, I've been out of my mind all week.

Physically, I'm exhausted. I haven't slept in two days. I'm hungry.

I'm a mess.

So, please don't.

Don't laugh at me.

What if it doesn't work?

I love you.

I love you too.

Basterra Camporro, Alfonso.

Correct.

Date and location of birth.

August 2nd, 1964, Bilbao.

Address.

8 República Argentina Street. Santiago.

Marital status.

Divorced.

Children?

Children?

A daughter.

Hey.

Hold on, Dad. Sit here.

I'll just be a minute.

- Hello? - Your Honor.

The initial reports from Madrid arrived.

They found traces of semen on her clothes.

Now we have that prick Basterra.

Not exactly, Your Honor.

What?

They're checking the sample

against the list of known sex offenders. But it's not the father's semen.

In 48 hours, we'll have a more conclusive result.

That's all we know for now.

We'll file a motion for further investigation. Okay?

Hey, Ríos. Don't tell a fucking soul.

Got it?

I'll tell the prosecutor.

Okay, Your Honor.

Well, Dad?

The sea is so pretty, son.

Much prettier than the land, Dad. Much prettier.

Based on a true story.

Parts are fictionalized for privacy and narrative pace.

Subtitle translation by: Tom Sullivan