All language subtitles for In Her Place 2024 1080p WEBRip x264

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BASED ON TRUE EVENTS.

Come on, get up.

Up.

Time to get up.

Let go of me! Let go!

No fighting.

Come set the table. Careful with the mugs.

Make yourself useful.

A little quiet wouldn't hurt.

Can you move the table a little?

No, you move.

We're expecting customers soon,
so hurry up.

I don't get why you asked them
to come so early.

It's not that I want them
to come this early. The thing is,

I tell them to come this early

so I don't have to wait around all day.

Do we have any butter?

Right?

Do you have many customers today?

It's a sales strategy, Mechita.

They're actually my only customers today.

Your mug.

There's nothing left.

Efraín, the floor polisher.
I almost broke my neck.

Can't you see I'm busy, Mechita?

You have the afternoon free.

Okay, Your Honor, Magistrate.

There you go.

-Hello.
-Hi, nice to meet you.

-I'm Efraín. Come on in.
-Hi.

-Welcome.
-Hello.

-Hi.
-Can I get you some water?

-Yes, thank you.
-Yes, please.

If the bride wishes to touch up
her makeup, here's a special spot.

-Yes.
-This way.

Anyway, you look magnificent.

-Thanks so much.
-Are the pictures for wedding favors?

-They're for the invitation.
-That's a great idea.

They'll be lovely.

When we got married,
Mechita thought it was a good idea

to send handwritten invitations.

Half the guests got lost

because they couldn't find the church
thanks to her penmanship.

Then she went to typing school.

We'll be late! Hurry up!

-It's not my fault!
-What? It's always your fault!

Keep quiet, damn it!

Efraín.

The groom's skin looks pretty bad.

-Get him a fill-in light.
-Okay.

Efraín.

Fix the polisher.

Okay.

Just a couple of details.

-Bye.
-Goodbye.

The lawyer told us
he's in preventive detention,

but that we can ask for him
to be released on bail.

I'll do what I can, but it's not up to me.

Hold on a second.

-Good afternoon.
-Hello. Can I help you?

There's been a murder
at 1035 Agustinas Road.

Near the Hotel Crillón?

At the Hotel Crillón. In the tearoom.

MURDER AT THE HOTEL CRILLÓN

Thank you.

LADIES AND SALESMEN NOT ALLOWED
THANK YOU

Antito, if you please.

Thank you.

Your Honor!

Back off.

No.

Please!

Madam.

IN HER PLACE

Mercedita, you've never been
to the Crillón before?

Come here.

Gálvez, give Mr. Aliro the report.

Here, take this.

Georgina Silva Jiménez.

Yes. Silva shot straight at him
from no more than one or two meters away.

I understand the gun was hers, right?

Yes. You should see it
before it goes to ballistics.

Okay.

Look.

Take a look.

PN Baby made in Belgium.

6.35 caliber. A beauty.

Mercedita.

Look at this stunner.

-Oh, yeah.
-Look.

It belongs in a jewelry box.

Do we know anything
about the deceased's wife?

What we know
is that Silva was his partner.

Yeah, but I mean his wife.

No, the victim
wasn't wearing a ring, Your Honor.

They can take the body.

Gálvez.

Mercedita, sit here.

-Arnés, you sit over there.
-Okay.

Reach your arm out. Grab the spoon.
Five gunshots, huh?

The woman must be as mad as a hatter.

It all points to her shooting standing up

because the gun was hidden
in one of her coat pockets.

-Pulling it out would be easier.
-Mercedita, stand up.

You're about the same height
as this woman, right?

Though, did she shoot standing up
because it was easier

or because she wanted
to get distance from her victim?

Maybe she wanted to be seen.

-What do you think?
-Gálvez.

Bring the woman's
personal belongings, please.

Let's see.

Take notes.

It's Mr. Roberto Pumarino Valenzuela.

Get your newspaper!

Murder at the Crillón!

Killer woman!

Get your newspaper!

El Mercurio! El Clarín!

El Diario! La Nación!

El País!

Murder at the Crillón!

Everyone's talking about it.
María Carolina Geel committed murder

in front of the whole Chilean aristocracy.

Look at this. Front page, boss.

A respectable person should make
the papers three times in their life.

When they're born,
when they get married, and when they die.

-Isn't a judge a respectable person?
-Not anymore, Mercedita. Not anymore.

I can't stand all these vultures.

Bunch of sickos.

When coming in, a journalist asked me
if the vampiress was testifying today.

The vampiress?

Yes, Domingo, I heard you.

I'm making coffee.
Do you want another one?

-All right.
-Okay.

How about that, Mercedita?

This institution has witnessed
centuries of legal tradition

and the hoi polloi
takes it for a Roman circus.

If I'd been murdered at the Crillón,

I'd like people to wonder
what happened to me.

You'd have to go to the Crillón first.

CRIME OF PASSION

My God, these nosy sickos
are gonna tear this poor woman apart.

I swear I almost feel sorry for her.

First, she goes crazy
and murders her lover.

And now, she's become
the villain of the century.

This woman is going through hell.

We're going to be famous, Mercedes.

I should've used some hair gel
or something.

If Aliro wants to have lunch
at Club de la Unión,

he'll have to dig a hole to get there.

He should convict her later,
when this chaos dies down.

No. Mr. Aliro has a soft spot
for this type of women.

María Carolina!

María Carolina! Please!

Ms. Georgina Silva Jiménez?

My name is María Carolina Geel.

It doesn't ring a bell.

That's the pen name
that my defendant uses as a writer.

And when she killed Mr. Pumarino,
was she Silva or Geel?

Excuse me.

They're the same person.

I don't understand.

Do you admit to having shot
Mr. Roberto Pumarino Valenzuela five times

on April 14th at the Hotel Crillón?

Your Honor, my defendant reserves
the right to not answer that question.

-At least until the forensic results--
-Yes.

I admit it.

So you also admit to carrying

a PN Baby on you with the intention
of killing your boyfriend?

He wasn't my boyfriend.

So what was he to you?

He wasn't mine.

I didn't want that.

Okay, Ms. Silva.

Help me help you.

It's in your best interest.

Did he do anything to you?

Montero is outside. He wants to see you.

Mr. Concha.

Yes, of course.

Do you have a cigarette?

Smoking is not allowed here.

My lawyer was smoking.

Are you a lawyer?

No.

Are you a lawyer?

No.

Mercedes.

Mercedes.

The Legal Medical Service
has prepared all the documents.

Ask when they'll do
the psychological evaluation.

Psychological evaluation?

If required, I'm open
to complementary disciplines.

But I'm not here
to give you explanations, Mr. Montero.

The defendant will have to appear
before the Legal Medical Service tomorrow.

She'll be escorted
to the interview from here.

That poor soul is staying at the precinct

until the experts confirm
what we already know.

That she belongs in a mental home.

Take a look.

Look.

"Montero's accusation."

"The writer killed willfully
and with malice aforethought."

"She deserves an exemplary punishment."

Poor Mr. Aliro.

Your Honor, the defendant
can't spend the night at a police station.

Are you aware of her mental state?

She barely knows where she is.

Why don't you send her home?

I'll tell you what.

Let's take her to Buen Pastor.

She'll have a quiet cell,
away from the journalists and the noise.

The nuns will look after her.
End of story.

Yes.

Well, as you can imagine,

she's not a woman…

who's used to prison cells.

You do realize I'm not the Pope?

Yes, but…

Why don't you allow the defendant
to be given the bare essentials?

-You know, clean clothes--
-Fine, I'll allow it.

The thing is, her sister lives in Parral.

And, well,

as you can imagine,

a lawyer going to pick up clothes…

I believe the keys to her apartment
are in court custody.

Yes?

Should I go?

I'll go.

How long are you keeping her
at Buen Pastor?

Until she's sentenced.

What good is it to keep her in a cell
where she'll get scabies

and all the newspapers blame it on me?

See you later.

-Goodbye.
-See you.

-I had scabies once.
-Oh, Domingo.

The mere mention of it makes me itchy.

He overexposed it.

Good morning.

Good morning.

Mr. Concha.

-You know lawyers aren't allowed in.
-What?

Here. Those are her things.

You can wait for her here.

Do you have a cigarette?

They'll conduct a forensic examination
to assess your state of health.

Meaning if I'm crazy?

If you do have a mental disorder,
they won't be sending you to jail exactly.

I won't go to a nut house.

Come in.

Good afternoon.

Are you coming in?

It's a private examination.

Good morning. Thank you for coming.

Mr. Rolando de la Fuente.

According to the police report,

you waited on Roberto Pumarino
and Georgina Silva's table.

Exactly. I was their waiter.

And what can you tell me about the events
that took place at the Crillón's tearoom?

Let's see. The man sat
at table number three.

He sat on the chair facing the room.

Then I asked if he wanted a drink,

and he said
that he was waiting for someone.

After that, the woman arrived.

And how did she look to you?

Absolutely normal.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

-Did you see them greet each other?
-It was all perfectly normal.

What did catch my attention though
was the chair the lady chose.

The chair that turned away
from the other tables?

Yes.

It caught my attention because

the ladies usually prefer to sit
facing the room.

And what was her demeanor?

What's the matter?

I saw the expression on Pumarino's face

turn to dislike.

Don't call me, write to me,
or go my house.

You're getting married?

My sister was the one
who overheard something.

She said,
"Do whatever you want with your life."

-They asked for drinks?
-I'm not a gossip. I don't meddle.

But I heard things
when they raised their voices.

What things?

Forget about me.

Things like,
"Let's call it quits. This is over."

"You don't seem interested."

You didn't see Ms. Silva have an outburst
at some point in the middle of all this

or lose her temper in any way?

There was no outburst. But it all
came crashing down shortly after.

Don't be so obvious!

And that's when I heard the chair.

The chair?

Then what happened?

Then she stood up, and all of a sudden
she was shooting at Mr. Pumarino.

I heard the gunshots, of course.

But, at first, I didn't know
where they came from.

Then the lady left the gun on the table.

I was behind them.

So I left my tray, went over there,

and I covered the gun with a napkin.

Why did you do that?

I don't know.

So the customers wouldn't get scared,
or so she wouldn't grab it.

I don't know.

Did you see if Ms. Silva

waited a bit before shooting,
or was it all of a sudden?

No, it happened so quickly.

She pulled the gun out
and started shooting.

He was right next to her.
She didn't even have to aim.

-Did he die right away?
-It was instant death, I think.

The poor man
didn't even have time to scream.

He died in silence, like a gentleman.

Did you see Ms. Silva try to kill herself
or try to escape after shooting him?

No.

Quite the opposite.

All she did was hug the man
and kiss his wounds.

No!

Then she got on her knees,

and with her hands together,
as in prayer, she said, "Save him!"

Save him!

That's enough!

Stop it.

So where are they sending Lucho?

To the north, to Iquique.

Oh, to guard the border.

Yes.

You should be called for military service.

What? He wants the room all to himself.

That's not true.

You should start worrying
about your future, too, Gaspar.

Soon you'll find yourself
in the same situation as your brother.

What about you?
Do you really want to go to law school?

I'll be a court clerk for a year,
then I'll be a lawyer.

And in two years,
I'll be a judge, like Mom.

Your mom could be your secretary.

…known as María Carolina Geel…

Turn that off, son.

But we wanna know what's going on.

The judge is very secretive.

-We have to hear the news on the radio.
-Turn it off.

El Clarín published an article today.
Mistral commented on the case.

She doesn't live in Chile.

She doesn't care about what a lady
does or doesn't do at the Crillón.

But she won a Nobel Prize.

In literature, not law.

Isn't there a Nobel Prize in law? No?

Hey, Your Honor.

Stop it already.

You know I'm not a judge.

Know what? If I were a judge,
you'd all be in jail.

-Why?
-For disobedience.

Oh, Efraín!

The polisher, Efraín.

Enough. Stop it!

Mr. Sergio Pumarino, good afternoon.

Good afternoon, Your Honor.

Tell me about your brother.

How would you describe him?

He was the best brother ever.

The best among all of us.

It's okay, Mr. Walter.

I'm sorry.

Take your time.

Tell me, what was
your sister Georgina like?

She's very sensitive.

A bit volatile too.

Explosive, maybe?

No, nothing like that.

No. Everyone liked her.

They were always asking her
to events, to parties.

She was stubborn.

And moody.

One day, she told him to get lost.
The next, she called him crying.

Roberto asked her to marry him many times.

Four or five times.

-And she always said no.
-A complex woman.

The woman was very

independent.

You know,

like women nowadays.

And then she begged him to come see her.

So he went.

He always went.

Georgina doesn't talk about her problems.

-She doesn't like being pitied.
-He put up with her for too long.

Did your brother ever mention
wanting to break up with her?

No, he worshiped her.

God knows why,
but he always got back together with her.

That's why I was so relieved
when he finally dumped her

and started dating this other girl.

What girl?

Alicia Castro.

A family friend.

She and Roberto reunited
a couple of months ago.

Alicia was happy
to be marrying my brother.

She saw what we all saw.

A good man.

Decent.

Eager to be a dad.

A bit tormented in matters of the heart.

Georgina

doesn't know how to be alone.

She always needs to have someone around,
if you know what I mean.

Like she's extremely fragile.

That woman was

wicked.

Abnormal.

Incapable of being like other women.

Pumarino couldn't handle my sister.

Did you imagine that she…
was capable of killing?

Of killing? Yes.

But not that way, in cold blood,
in front of everyone.

The last time I saw them together,
he was very cold to her.

And Georgina seemed tired.

My brother's mistake
was messing with a divorced chick.

She was divorced for a reason, right?

You've known Ms. Silva
for a long time, haven't you?

Yes, I was married to her for 13 years.

And how would you describe Ms. Silva?

A good woman.

Smart.

Very restless too.

Difficult, perhaps?

No.

Curious, I'd say.

An avid reader, interesting to talk to.

And as a mother?

-What does that have to do with it?
-Answer me, please.

An excellent mother.

Very committed.

Very loving.

Okay, so she was never violent to you,
and she was an excellent person.

Then can you explain to me
why she killed Mr. Roberto Pumarino?

I can't understand it.

To me, it's very clear.

She didn't want to end up empty-handed.

She killed him out of jealousy.

If anyone says they didn't see it coming,
they didn't know her.

She tried to fit in.

She turned down my brother
when he proposed.

But when he wanted to marry
someone else, she killed him.

That's Georgina Silva.

YENIA'S SLEEPING WORLD

TRAGIC CRIME OF PASSION
IN DOWNTOWN SANTIAGO

WRITER MARÍA LUISA BOMBAL
SHOOTS EULOGIO SÁNCHEZ ERRÁZURIZ.

Your Honor, we have a list of witnesses
willing to testify about the cruel way--

Mr. Montero.

We all love juicy gossip,

but this is a courthouse.

The report, please.

Thank you.

"The examinee is currently
going through menopause,

-a major factor for women."
-There's more below.

"This has caused behavioral changes."

"We recommend
that a second examination be conducted."

I concur.

Don't get so excited, Mr. Concha.

-Your Honor, if I may--
-Excuse me, gentlemen.

We will send a copy of the report
to your respective offices.

Thank you.

I'm ready to render a judgment.

Unfit to plead
according to the witnesses and science.

That way, this woman
can spend the weekend at home.

Thank you.

And this bunch of bloodsuckers

can move on to report
on actual important news.

And we can be done
with these humiliating lockdown lunches.

It's not that bad.

It's not that bad? I'm locked in my office
eating pickled chicken.

Although, I knew
I'd have to make sacrifices

when I decided
to dedicate my life to justice.

What you do is truly commendable.

It is. Imagine seeing your face
on the front page every day.

But it's not just that, Domingo.
It's so much more.

Your commitment to truth,
to law, is impressive.

Domingo, wherever we go,

we can proudly say
that we work for a righteous judge,

despite the fact
that his reputation is at stake.

What do you mean
my reputation is at stake?

You're going to pass
a fair sentence, right?

Even if public opinion
doesn't agree with you.

That's very brave, Domingo.

Very brave.

Hold on. Wait.

Mercedita, I'm a judge of the Republic.

This kind of manipulation
may work at home on your kids,

but not on me.

But it's true, Mr. Aliro.

If you let her off,
the papers will jump down your throat.

Really? I thought they'd congratulate me.

I'm not trying
to convince you of anything.

I'm just stating the facts.

Like Domingo says, if you let her off,
I don't see an end to the circus.

Mercedita, did you keep
that list of witnesses Montero gave you?

You know what?

We'll call a couple of them
before rendering a judgment.

To be on the safe side.

-You're gonna watch your back?
-Excuse me?

-Mercedes, please.
-Yes, I apologize.

A judge of the Republic
doesn't watch his back.

He analyzes his case
from different angles.

Whatever you say, sir.

PERCES THE TEENAGER DREAMED AND LOVED

STRANGE SUMMER

Oh, new in the building?

No.

-No.
-Oh, you're her sister.

-Right?
-No.

-All right. Good afternoon.
-Good afternoon.

Here.

Initial.

-Full signature.
-Your Honor.

Oh man!

Nobody told me the dress code was formal.

But you're so dressed up, Arévalo.

-Is it because of the journalists?
-No.

It's to show

respect for the courthouse.

There.

Don't be shy
when they compliment you, Mercedita.

Has she always worn perfume?

I don't know.

Thanks, Domingo.

Mercedita?

Yes?

What perfume are you wearing?

It's soap.

Mercedita.

African bird, four-letter word?

Ibis.

Thanks.

That office issues statements
on every corner of the city.

A simple comma can change
the meaning of a whole sentence.

That's fascinating, Fernando.

Hey, putting work aside a moment,

what was the relationship
between Mr. Pumarino and Ms. Silva like?

Yikes. Well, it was complicated.
Very complicated.

Sometimes they came back from lunch
and you could tell they'd been fighting.

That they'd had an argument,
tears and all.

You could tell she'd been crying?

Not her. Him.

-Him?
-Yes.

And were you closer
to the victim or to Ms. Silva?

To Roberto.

Of course. He was
a very good, very kind man.

Roberto was a great boss. He really was.

Always so attentive.

What about her?

I couldn't say
the same thing about her, sir.

I'd be lying.

Georgina was always looking down on us,
like we weren't good enough.

She lived in her own world.
She got bored at work.

How do you know she got bored?

The minute she was alone,
she'd start writing other stuff.

-Her books?
-Exactly.

We would've loved
to write stories and silly stuff too,

but we wouldn't have lasted
a week on the job.

So you'd say she didn't love him?

I'd say she was using him.

Roberto went running to her
whenever she called.

She was pretty terrible, the child.

-The child?
-Georgina.

That's what he called her, "child."

When she needed money,
Roberto was always there.

He was always the one who ponied up.

Though she's not much of a child.
She's a full-grown woman.

What Georgina did
was empty Roberto's pockets.

My name is Rebeca Vizcaya Pérez.

I work at the finance desk.

Roberto Pumarino was my boss.

What do you want to tell me, Ms. Rebeca?

Have they told you
about the floor polisher yet?

No.

No. Please tell me.

I don't know if you've heard,
but Mr. Roberto gave Georgina

one of those electric polishers.

Not a mop.

-I mean, the kind you plug in.
-A polisher? You mean an actual polisher?

-Mercedes.
-Exactly, a floor polisher.

Can you believe
that woman gave it back to him?

Surprise!

What's that?

Because I think, deep down,

Mr. Roberto always wished
she were more of a homebody.

You know what I mean?

Ms. Vizcaya, I was told
you were going to bring me a document.

Oh, yes.

You see, I've been going through
Mr. Roberto's filing cabinets.

And in a drawer, at the back,
there was a lot of shredded paper.

So what I did

was put all the pieces together.

And I brought this.

What's that?

A letter.

"Roberto, I've been thinking
long and hard about it."

"And here's the decision
you asked me to make last night."

"First, I value your attitude, which,
within the scope of social conventions,

is considered chivalrous."

"I appreciate it
because I know what it's worth."

"And if I decline your offer,

it's because the reasons pointing
to a negative outcome for our marriage

are numerous."

Any woman in Chile would want a polisher!

-I'm not any woman!
-You're crazy!

"Roberto, my nature,

my character, my hobbies,

my age, my experience,

are all contrary to marriage."

"If you add a deep sensitivity
to the equation,

forever in conflict
with things and beings,

and a total skepticism about life…

you would admit that

nothing in me corresponds with
the so-called institution of marriage."

"And I'm not the woman

that your situation requires."

Thank God I gave you a really fancy robe

and not
a state-of-the-art electric polisher.

Otherwise, they'd be having
my memorial service at the bar.

-I'm not her.
-I know you're not.

Of course you're not her.

Because Mari, my Marita,

is in jail paying for the worst crime,

being an artist and being a woman.

Should we have a drink?

My Marita always told me
she didn't like it

when I got home wasted.

That's why she gave me this key.

My Mari.

She takes care of me even from jail.

Were you also too wasted to go back home?

No.

I'm her cousin from La Serena.

Oh, I see.

What's your name?

Dominga.

And what are you doing
in your cousin's apartment?

Tidying up, cleaning.

So it doesn't get dusty.

Oh… I see.

You came all the way
from La Serena to clean?

In a robe. Funny.

Are you interrogating me?

You sure are distrusting.

I like it.

Dominga.

Killing for love isn't a crime.

Thank God no one
has ever loved me that way.

I mean, she killed for love,
but not love for him.

It was love for art.

It wasn't a homicide. It was an homage.

It was a literary quote.

January 1941…

the greatest novelist
our nation has ever lost--

-Mistral.
-No.

Novelist, not poet.

María Luisa Bombal
grabbed a gun and shot her lover.

Do you know where?

Right here, in his arm.

That's not what's important.
What's important is that it happened--

Hotel Crillón.

Oh, you already knew?

No, I just figured.

So this woman is going to jail for a crime
that she didn't even come up with herself.

How is that possible?

Don't be such a philistine, woman.

Okay, look.

Today's art draws inspiration
from yesterday's art.

The quote is so direct,
she's even gonna copy Bombal's ending.

That is, the pardon.

What pardon?

Bombal was pardoned.

Don't you get newspapers in La Serena?

We do get them.

But Bombal is
this nation's greatest novelist.

Who'd want to pardon Silva?

The president.

Once he hears a little angel's voice.

Not from La Serena, of course,
but from Vicuña, which is nearby.

That's pretty.

So pretty.

I gave that to Mari.

-No. It's mine.
-Yes, Dominga.

-No.
-It's mine.

I… Dominga, you don't look like a Dominga.

Dominique, maybe, but Dominga? No.

Wanna hear something else?

Mari doesn't have any relatives
in La Serena.

But don't worry.

This house is like an embassy.

It gives asylum to a lot of people.

My name is René.

What's your name? Your real name.

Mercedes.

There we go.

Mercedes. Okay.

Mercedes.

I'm sorry.

Don't worry.
Tomorrow I'll forget all about this.

I'm a poet with a lousy memory.
That's why I haven't gotten anywhere.

Mercedes…

It's okay if you're not her cousin.

Those of us bored with being who we are
need a place where we can be no one.

What's wrong?

Is there any tea left?

No, but you can make some more.

Ángela confirmed.

And where are they staying?

Here, with us.

There's not enough room.

Mercedes…

Did you come home
smelling like booze last night?

No, I didn't smell like booze.

You smelled like pisco.

That's weird. I didn't drink any pisco.

A customer's coming with her kids.

No. Shit.

Put your heads a bit closer together
and keep looking right at me.

-Smile, sweetie.
-Okay? That's it. Smile.

See you, Dad.

See you.

Good luck.

-I have two boys too.
-Really?

We'll have to play nice
with our daughters-in-law.

Otherwise, no one's
gonna take care of us when we're old.

Of course.

Smile, sweetie.

There's broth and mechazo.

-Mechazo.
-Yummy.

We'll all have broth.

-Yes.
-Of course.

-Thanks.
-Thank you.

Welcome.

What's wrong, Mercedita?

-I wonder if there are any new starters.
-But I ordered broth for everyone.

-Are you on a special diet or something?
-She does look a bit thinner.

Maybe it's that new dress.

-I don't know if you've noticed, but--
-I've got to go.

-What about your broth?
-I'll grab something on my way.

Since when do we endorse
wasting food in this country?

-Don't waste it.
-Should we get it to go?

You eat it.

What's going on with Mercedes?

Oh no, Montero!

Mr. Montero, don't. No.

This man will make my hair turn gray.

-Your Honor.
-Sorry, Mr. Montero.

The clerk and I were about to leave.

The Pumarino family has heard rumors

that the accused is being treated
like a queen at Buen Pastor.

Private cell, her own bathroom,
even laundry service.

It's like she's staying
at a five-star hotel, sir.

Buen Pastor
is no five-star hotel, Mr. Montero.

It's an institution run by nuns.

-In any case, the Pumarino family--
-Enough.

I'm done.

I have to get back to my office

to finish working
on some pending documents.

And if you ever see me having lunch again,

you'll let me have lunch in peace.

Yes, sir.

Excuse me.

I told him, but he slipped through.

-Mercedes?
-Yes?

Tomorrow you'll go to Buen Pastor

to check out
this woman's living conditions.

Then you'll let us know.

Yes, boss.

-Did they follow you?
-There you go.

I'm gonna win.

-Hi.
-Hello.

Hi, Mom.

I got held up.

We hadn't noticed.

Wow!

The judge is looking fancy, huh?

We're starving, Mom.

I'm on it.

-It's your turn, Dad.
-Dad.

Don't stall!

Lay it down.

How was work today?

It was good.

Pretty busy.

Nothing out of the ordinary?

No.

Thank God.

What are you doing with that camera?

They asked me
to take some pictures at Buen Pastor.

Why do you have to go
take pictures, Mercedes?

Can't someone from the courthouse go?

I'm someone from the courthouse.

You'll see that Crillón nut job?

I don't think she's a nut job.

-I think she's pretending.
-That's unfair.

If she can use it, so can we.

This camera was my dad's.

But all the cameras were your dad's--

But he gave this one to me.

This camera is mine.

It has a 12-shot roll,
so you can keep track.

-You have to try it first too.
-Thanks, Efraín.

Good day.
I'm here to visit Georgina Silva Jiménez.

Here's the court order.

Miss, is that a camera?

Would you mind taking my picture?

Of course.

Thanks.

Are you a journalist?

No.

I work at the courthouse.

That's what I'm looking for, someone
who works at the courthouse to help me.

But I can't help you.
That's a lawyer's job.

But I don't have a lawyer.

Okay, tell me your name.

Rosa… Janequeo Saavedra.

And why are you here? What did you do?

I killed my son-in-law.

I slit his throat as if he were a dog.

Don't be scared.

I'm not a bad person.

I had to do it
because he was awful to my daughter.

He kicked her like you'd kick
a donkey on the ground

while she was pregnant.

Is your daughter okay now?

She's great now.

She and the kid can sleep at night.

We're safe.

And I'm happy here.
I sleep with peace of mind.

-Do they come visit you?
-Every Sunday, rain or shine.

That's nice. I'm happy for you.

Miss, follow me, please.

-Thank you.
-Bye.

-See you.
-See you, miss.

Have a nice day.

-Take care.
-Sure.

Go in, please.

-That one?
-Yes.

-Thanks.
-You're welcome.

May I?

Come on in.

Good day.

Good day.

I'm Mercedes Arévalo.
We met at the courthouse.

The lady with the cigarettes.

This won't take much of your time.
I'm here to take pictures of your cell.

We're complementing
the Legal Medical Service report.

In this case, by taking pictures
of the prison conditions, okay?

You didn't have to bring the camera.
I'll sum it up for you.

The nights are quiet.

The guard who does the rounds
barely disturbs our sleep.

He does his rounds…

and then silence
falls over the cell blocks again.

The days, however,

pass amidst loose words,

loud laughter,

heresy.

I'll start now. Excuse me.

WOMEN'S PRISON

Is this your prison journal?

Can I read it?

I read Bombal's texts.

You did?

You and Bombal have a lot in common.

May I?

Why did you do it?

Everyone wants to know why you killed him.

I'm here because of my acts.
It doesn't matter what I say about them.

You learn to build your freedom.

Blackberries, snails.

We practically pick them every day.

Fertile soils, the fields looked good.

The other part was
the late José Dolores's.

José Dolores died?

-What did he die of?
-José died of old age.

How old was he?

He was very old.

These two want to come
to the fields with me.

Cheers to my brother-in-law!

I salute him from his kitchen.

Santiago is a messy place
where everyone lives like chickens.

So disrespectful!

Forgive him, my brother.

It's just that he misses you and cries.

In the fields, you have an uncle
who loves you with all his heart.

It's true, brother-in-law.

-Enough already!
-Sorry.

I have an idea. Kids, come here!
Come open your presents!

What could it be?

Open mine first.

-With all our love.
-You shouldn't have.

-Aguardiente!
-It's pure.

Let's try it.

What a great present!

-Let's see.
-There you go.

To keep up with the news, huh?

No, here. Right there.

"García Arévalo Photo Studio."

"Marriages, first communions,
quinceañeras, baptisms."

Are we gonna be famous?

-Congratulations.
-You outdid yourselves.

-Look! "García."
-Look.

I've got a surprise for you, Meche.
Close your eyes.

No looking.

What? What is it?

-What could it be?
-Mechita, cover your eyes.

Okay, look.

-I fixed it.
-What a beauty!

It has an American engine.

-Ever seen one before?
-Yeah, but never used one.

I'd like to try it.

Just look at that!

Be careful. You could get tangled.

Make sure you're always in front.

Just look at that!

It'll keep the place very clean.

Spending time with the family
is really nice, don't you think?

There's no reason
to come home late all the time.

Don't get emotional.

We're here now.

Your heart should be here.

Look, I can handle it!

We'll come back later, but we have to go…

Well, maybe
there are people who'd steal it…

Meche.

It's me.

What is this place, Meche?

It's an apartment I found for myself.

It's temporary.

Open up.

Please.

What's this?

Whose is it?

Give it to me.

Have you lost your mind?

Does this woman know you're here?
Does she?

That woman's in jail.

It's some sort of agreement.

I water the plants.

Air the place out.

Tidy up a little.

You're taking…

someone else's place.

A murderer's.

You're…

You're using her stuff, even her clothes.

Meche, I…

I'd understand if you fell in love
with someone else, but--

-No.
-But what is this?

-Meche, what is this?
-It's the opposite.

What?

It's the tranquility.

What tranquility?

There's so much noise.

All the time.

Maybe I'm too weak and I can't stand it.

You can.

You do.

But I've had enough.

What are you doing, Meche?

I'm cleaning the carpet
because there's mud on it.

But it's not even your carpet.

If I don't get it off now,
it'll be all stuck tomorrow.

-Stop it.
-It won't come off.

Mercedes.

You're not coming back here tomorrow.

Meche.

Get dressed, and let's go home.
This isn't your home.

Meche.

WOMEN'S PRISON

"…all the blame for a crime
committed with her man."

"Long years in jail."

"As a consequence,
the man looked for another woman."

-Hey, it's not bad.
-No.

They'll eat us alive.

Of course.

This woman refuses to talk to anyone,
but she writes a book.

When everyone is ready
to hang her in the main square.

No.

Enough.

I must deliver a judgment.

WOMEN'S PRISON

"In Santiago, on July 11th, 1956,

pursuant to article 391
number 2 of the Penal Code,

Georgina Silva Jiménez
is found guilty of manslaughter."

"She will receive a maximum sentence
of 541 days of imprisonment

as the perpetrator of the murder
of Roberto Pumarino Valenzuela,

committed on April 14th, 1955."

Please, this is excessive.

File this.

Yes, Your Honor.

Georgina!

What do you think about the judge who…

-Good morning.
-Morning.

-How are you?
-Fine. How about you?

Fine. Have a nice day.

Who?

Hello?

Hello?

May I come in?

Mr. Aliro?

You got a call from Club de la Unión.
Someone's waiting for you at the bar.

Someone?

At the bar?

Can you do me a favor, Mercedita?

Come to my rescue in an hour.

All right.

I hope they let me in.

URGENT

See you, Antito.

Let's go, Mercedita.

What a funny place this is.

They won't let me in,
and they won't let you out.

Let me buy you lunch at Don Pepe.

-I thought you'd have lunch at the club.
-I wish, Mercedita.

It was a presidential ambush, Mercedita.

-Did the president tell you off?
-No.

Rather, he had the courtesy of warning me.

About what?

About me making a fool of myself.

Why would you
make a fool of yourself, sir?

Mercedita,

a judge is the mouth of the law.

But sometimes there are people
who are exempt from the law.

And in those cases,
everything the judge says is pointless.

And justice… goes silent.

We interrupt this broadcast
to bring you breaking news.

Head of State Carlos Ibáñez del Campo

has granted a presidential pardon

to writer María Carolina Geel.

This decision has been made
after a vigorous advocacy campaign

led by famous poet Gabriela Mistral,

who sent a letter to the president asking…

THE TREE AND OTHER STORIES

MURDER AT HOTEL CRILLÓN
WRITER MARÍA GEEL SHOOTS LOVER

MURDER AND MADNESS AT HOTEL CRILLÓN
SHE KILLED HER LOVER AND DRANK HIS BLOOD

LOVE DROVE HER CRAZY

LETTER FROM CAROLINA TO ROBERTO PUMARINO
PROVES HOW MUCH SHE LOVED HIM

ONLY 541 DAYS IN PRISON

"IMPOSSIBLE TO IGNORE PLEA
BY OUR BRILLIANT WRITER"

Honorable Mr. President:
I beg Your Excellency

to confer your pardon, knowing
of your compassion and magnanimity.

We respectfully beg Your Excellency
to grant a full pardon

to María Carolina Geel,
as is the wish of us Latin American women.

We will never forget it.

Yours truly, Gabriela Mistral

PARDONED! MARÍA CAROLINA GEEL

BASED ON THE BOOK "WHEN WOMEN KILL"
BY ALIA TRABUCCO