On September 18, 1973, Arturo Villegas Villagrán, a socialist militant from Penco, was forcibly disappeared. In 2015, the justice system ruled that a Carabineros lieutenant was involved in his case and sentenced him to five years in prison.

Nothing was known of the body until December 2017, when Judge Mario Carroza informed his children that some of his remains had been found, at a time when no one was looking for him anymore. This is the story told by his family who, unknowingly, had attended his funeral four decades earlier.

‘Guillermo, they are going to kill me!', Vera remembers his friend saying to him. Then I hugged him and said: ‘Strength, Arturo, strength’

When Estrella Villegas saw her father's name engraved on a plaque attached to a small, empty urn, she burst into tears. 45 years had passed since Arturo Villegas Villagrán, a militant of the Socialist Party and former leader of the Fanaloza union, had been forcibly disappeared from the Penco police station.

Standing there in front of the casket where his remains would rest, she realized how the circle of a long history was closing.

—We have seen everything here, but his case is unique —the funeral home owner told her as they inspected the wooden coffin.

Until December 2017, Arturo Villegas's name appeared among the 1,102 forcibly disappeared persons left by the dictatorship, as recorded by the Rettig Report and the National Corporation for Reparation and Reconciliation.

Villegas had been detained on September 18, 1973, by Carabineros, and since then, his fate remained unknown. That was until he appeared, without anyone looking for him, by "chance" —as Estrella says— when the family had already abandoned all hope.

And then, while her gaze was fixed on the urn, Estrella reviewed everything that had happened in those years, as if rewinding a videotape of her memories: the disappearance, the search, the abandonment, the hatred, the resignation, the justice, and the death of her mother, who passed away in January 2015 believing that her husband —as the whole family thought— had been thrown into the sea.

Then Estrella asked herself something she had avoided since Minister Mario Carroza informed her of his discovery:

—Will I be able to see my father's remains?

Two days remain until the funeral, and in the house that Arturo Villegas built in Penco, now occupied by his 63-year-old son Mario, the family prepares for the wake. They clear the living room, set up an altar, and the only thing they leave is a plasma screen, where they will play music and videos by Víctor Jara and Inti Illimani.

On the walls are dozens of black-and-white photos of Villegas, always surrounded by friends. In all of them, he is wearing a suit and tie.

Mario says that his father was 16 when he joined the Penco branch of the Socialist Party, where his grandfather and other family friends were also militants. Later, at 19, Villegas began working at Fanaloza, where he assumed the presidency of the workers' union.

—He was a great fighter for workers' rights. In the late 50s, he spoke with a socialist teacher because he saw that many employees did not know how to read or write. That is how literacy classes were created —says Estrella, sitting in the living room of the house.

Arturo Villegas organized Christmas celebrations at the company, helped workers buy appliances in interest-free installments through agreements, and traveled to Santiago every year to negotiate new working conditions with the factory owners. He did so much —Mario says— that when he was fired in 1965, all of Penco marched to the plant to demand his reinstatement.

—The uproar was such that they had no choice but to reinstate him —he adds.

By then, Arturo Villegas was the patriarch of a family of six children. He had married María Eliana Zárate, and thanks to the industry, they lived a life without financial problems. Villegas —his daughter remembers— also had other businesses: a casino-restaurant on the beach, a taxi driven by a brother, and every September 18, he would set up a ramada.

Thus, when he was permanently fired from Fanaloza in 1970, the family continued to live off those incomes. That same year, Estrella continues, her father participated actively in Salvador Allende's presidential campaign.

—Several dinners were held at the casino. Allende liked curantos very much. He would arrive with Mrs. Hortensia Bussi, Mr. José Tohá, Mrs. Moira, Mario Palestro, Carlos Altamirano, Carmen Lazo, and the entire central committee of the party.

But after Allende's election, Arturo Villegas distanced himself from the party and focused on spending time with his family. By that date, he and his wife had suffered several tragedies, including the death of three children under various circumstances, two of them while still young girls.

—I think he realized that he had set his family aside —says Estrella.

—Before, he would arrive from work, have lunch, and leave for the party —adds Mario.

But Arturo Villegas never set aside political activity. His children remember long days of discussions in that same house. In particular with a 27-year-old young man named Mario Ávila, who was president of the socialist youth in the area, who would also be forcibly disappeared in 1973.

—They were intimate with my dad. He would arrive here at the house and was one more of the family. The two of them would settle in the living room and spend long hours talking and smoking —Estrella describes.

But when the military coup came, everyone stopped seeing each other. Arturo Villegas, in fact, hid for three days in the house of some relatives until Estrella, who was 17 at the time, accompanied him to the Penco police station to turn himself in.

There, she remembers, a captain named Rudy Cortés told her that they had no charges against him. Villegas then returned home, but on September 18, 1973, around five in the afternoon, a squad of police officers led by Lieutenant Juan Abello Vildósola, as would be proven years later in the trial held for his disappearance, arrived to look for him.

Estrella and Mario were out for a walk on the beach when that happened, and upon returning, they were told the news. Estrella remembers in detail what happened that day and those that followed.

—They told me that Lieutenant Abello came in a private car, a Dodge, which was driven by his brother-in-law. The next day, I accompanied my mother and my grandfather to the Penco police station. We spoke first with Rudy Cortés, and he said that they had released him that same afternoon.

Later we spoke with Abello, and he said they had released him in the morning. When this contradiction occurred, we said that something was strange. And that is when the search began.

Guillermo Vera, a 75-year-old teacher, reads a handwritten paper: “Arturo, you will finally rest in peace, and your loved ones too. It has been a long struggle, but with an ending where the truth prevailed.

Juan Abello and his henchmen will never rest; their crimes will haunt them forever,” he says. The text is part of a message he has been rehearsing for when it is his turn to speak at his friend's funeral.

—I met Arturo when I arrived in Penco in 1971 —he remembers, sitting in the living room of his house in La Florida—. I taught classes at the then-Ho Chi Minh camp, where the Allende government formed a school and they appointed me as director.

Guillermo Vera is an important person in the judicial history of Arturo Villegas. The one that recounts everything that happened after his disappearance and that only began to be investigated in 1998, when the family of the former union leader filed a complaint against Juan Abello and "all those who may be responsible" for the crime of aggravated kidnapping.

—I was the last person to see him alive —says Vera.

His testimony was recorded in the file to which “Sábado” had access. There, he recounted that on September 18, 1973, he was detained by Lieutenant Abello, and while in the police station cell, Arturo Villegas arrived. That night —he said— his friend was tortured by the police.

—They asked the same thing as always: “Where are the weapons?” —Vera remembers.

The following night, “between nine and ten, Villegas was taken out of the cell.” Minutes before that happened, they both said goodbye.

—¡Guillermo, they are going to kill me! —Vera remembers his friend saying to him—. Then I hugged him and said: “Strength, Arturo, strength.”

And no one ever saw him again. The file that tells the story of Arturo Villegas is grouped with two other cases of forcibly disappeared persons: that of Omar Manríquez, secretary of the PS of Coelemu, and that of Luis Acevedo Andrade, the town's mayor.

In Villegas's case, his daughter Estrella, his wife María Eliana Zárate, a brother, and two neighbors who witnessed the detention testified. All the accounts are consistent that the person leading the squad was Lieutenant Juan Abello and that the person driving the car was his brother-in-law.

Both were prosecuted in July and September 2006, as author and accomplice respectively. In their defense, both stated they did not know Villegas. “Sábado” contacted Juan Abello, but he did not want to give an interview.

The document also recorded the search that his family carried out and that Estrella remembers today:

—We searched through Tomé, Quiriquina Island, the public jail, and the morgue. In November 1973, there was a rumor in Penco that there were some corpses in a mausoleum, and on that occasion, I accompanied my mother and some uncles. We found two niches that were bricked up, and inside there were two corpses in sacks. But out of fear, we left.

The family —she adds— was left alone. Estrella says that the people who used to share time with them no longer approached them, including friends. And to the abandonment, an economic crisis followed. María Eliana Zárate had to start working as a food handler, and the Vicariate of Solidarity helped them with food.

A neighbor —she says— made them clothes from garments that people stopped using. By then, Estrella was finishing her degree in Social Work, and Mario, who had taken the test to enter university, could not continue and had to work in the minimum employment programs of the time.

The search for Arturo Villegas extended until the beginning of the 80s. After that, Estrella adds, they resigned themselves to his death.

—We lost hope. I thought my father had been left in a quarry or in the sea, because they said that many people tied with rails had been thrown into Quiriquina Island.

The only thing that brought comfort, she says, was the conviction that in April 2011, Minister Alejandro Solís issued, sentencing Juan Abello to ten years in prison as the author of the kidnapping, and three years to his brother-in-law, who was considered an "accomplice" to the crime for driving the Dodge in which they had taken Arturo to the police station.

Years later, in August 2015, the Supreme Court reduced Abello's sentence to five years, and he was imprisoned in Punta Peuco, where, after serving half of the sentence, he was released in 2017 for good behavior. By then, María Eliana Zárate, Villegas's wife, had passed away.

—She asked to be cremated and for her ashes to be scattered in the sea, because she believed my father was there —says Estrella.

Mario Ávila remembers his father of the same name, who was president of the socialist youth of Penco and who spent long hours talking with Arturo Villegas in his house. Today he is 44 years old, an engineer, and was born seven months after his father disappeared.

—I am a posthumous child —he says, sitting in a café in Concepción.

To understand how Arturo Villegas appeared after 45 years, it is necessary first to tell how Mario Ávila died, and how their stories began to link on that September 18, 1973, when both were detained in the same police station, but in different cells.

—That day my dad turned himself in voluntarily because he knew they were looking for him, and they left him detained. According to the Carabineros, he had weapons, but they never found anything on him —relates Ávila Jr.

Everything he knows —he says— is thanks to the judicial file that at the beginning of 2014, Judge Carlos Aldana, visiting minister of the Court of Appeals of Concepción, opened to clarify his death: 800 pages that he has read as if it were a book.

There —he says— is the statement of his mother, Doris Reyes, who described how her husband arrived home on September 20, after spending three days in the barracks: “His face was swollen, with bruises and cigarette burns; furthermore, his back showed lash marks, his stomach likewise showed cigarette burns,” says the testimony to which “Sábado” had access.

In the document, Doris also identified the two Carabineros who had assaulted her husband, one of them a friend of her family, and added a piece of information that until then the judge was unaware of: “On that occasion, Mario told me that they had killed Villegas, referring to a friend of his.” It was the first time that Arturo's surname appeared mentioned in the case.

After that, Mario Ávila was on leave for a week and subsequently returned to work at the Department of Social Development of Tomé, from where he was last seen on October 9. Days later, his father-in-law revealed a key piece of information to his daughter: “He told me that a Carabinero (a family friend) had stopped by his work, asking about Mario's whereabouts, specifically about his workplace.

That is when my father pointed out that he was in Tomé,” Doris said in her statement.

During the following weeks, his family searched for him in several places in the region until a news item in the newspaper La Crónica, on November 27, 1973, caught their attention: “Puzzle in the Quebrada Honda case.” The headline referred to some bones and clothing that had appeared in a ravine between Penco and Lirquén.

The note was accompanied by a photo that seemed familiar to Doris: “A jacket appeared with the label of the Selmu tailor shop; we immediately related that jacket to the one Mario had been married in. It was indeed Mario's clothing. They did not let me enter, as I was a month and a half pregnant with my husband, who never knew he was going to be a father,” she added in her judicial testimony.

That was how Mario Ávila was found dead, at 27 years old. In a few months, his body had skeletonized, and parts were even missing due to scavenger animals. It was the bones that were not eaten and the clothing that his family buried in the Penco Parish Cemetery days later, after a funeral that Arturo Villegas's children also attended.

And from that moment until Judge Aldana began the investigation at the beginning of 2014, nothing was known about those responsible for his death. Mario Ávila Jr. says that he found out at 12 years old how his father had died and that the case helped him delve into that story.

—I wanted to discover for myself what had happened to him. I did not have internalized being the son of a political execution victim (…). I try to be strong, but it is hard for me. It saddens me to know everything they did to him, everything he suffered, and having an absent father —he says.

On November 14, 2014, Carlos Aldana ordered the arrest of the two Carabineros accused by the family, who denied all the facts, and prosecuted them for aggravated homicide. Four years later, they would be sentenced in the first instance to five years in prison.

Before that happened, in March 2015, Judge Aldana ordered the exhumation of Ávila's remains to determine if they effectively corresponded to him. His son spent two days at the cemetery until he appeared.

—For me, it was the opportunity to get closer to my dad, to see him for the first time. Imagine, 40 years later, it was super emotional. His jacket was still there, and in between, they found a bullet —he remembers.

But that was not the most relevant part of the finding. While they were removing the remains, the experts from the Legal Medical Service (SML) quickly discovered that some pieces, specifically six limb bones, among which were the femurs, were repeated. That is to say, inside the casket, already decayed by time, there were two bodies.

A year after the exhumation, a laboratory in Switzerland confirmed that the bones found were indeed those of Mario Ávila.

Regarding the other six pieces, it was certified what was already known: that they corresponded to another person with no family connection to him. But then, whose remains were they? DNA allowed them to be compared with the database of genetic profiles of relatives of forcibly disappeared persons from the Biobío Region, but the computer did not yield any match.

—We are always considering that the extra profiles that appear to us could be from other forcibly disappeared persons. That is the first hypothesis we handle. But here we had scarce representation of the relatives from that area.

So, the minister (Carlos Aldana) was requested to authorize us to take samples from the relatives who were not in the database —explains Ximena Leiva, who was in charge of the case at the SML and has been in the Forcibly Disappeared Persons Unit for nine years.

One of the families to whom this request was sent was the Villegas Zárate family, who in January 2017, under the excuse of increasing the database, provided DNA samples, which were sent to Switzerland in September of that same year.

After a couple of months, an unexpected result arrived: there was a 99.9993% probability that the remains that did not belong to Mario Ávila were those of Arturo Villegas.

—We did an anthropological analysis and reached the conclusion that since that first finding in 1973, they were together. We are moderately familiar with these situations, but I was surprised to find out the circumstances of these people's disappearance. Their story, personally, moved me —adds Ximena Leiva.

But why were they together? There is no certain answer to that question. The Villegas family believes that he was thrown into Quebrada Honda immediately after they killed him in September and that Mario Ávila was taken there in October, “perhaps to show him what they had done with his friend.” And when Ávila appeared, Villegas also appeared, but at that time, no one knew it was him.

On December 17, 2017, Judge Mario Carroza summoned Arturo Villegas's three children to his office and gave them the news.

—The minister told us that they were my dad's little bones, that they had been found with Mario Ávila and that they were going to be sent abroad to separate them. At that moment, we broke down. We never thought we were going to find anything of my dad; we had lost hope —remembers Estrella, while waiting at the SML in Concepción to enter to receive the remains.

20 days ago, Minister Mario Carroza told them that they were in a condition to bury him. In the morgue are brothers, nephews, children, and grandchildren of Arturo Villegas. There are also mothers, wives, and daughters of other forcibly disappeared persons from the region.

In total, there are almost 30 people, and many of them had not seen each other for decades. His finding —they say there— has brought the family closer together.

Estrella is the one who leads the group. Although she has to sign the record —she says— she will not enter.

—I prefer to remember him as I saw him in life —she explains to the rest of the relatives.

The SML experts who have traveled from Santiago warn them that only the direct family and the closest ones will be able to enter to recognize the remains. The concept of "recognizing" is symbolic, because in reality, what will happen there is more of a reunion.

The group is small: a sister, a brother-in-law, three nephews, and two of Villegas's children —Mario and Sandra— enter the room. 45 years have passed, and the six limb bones are there, arranged on a stretcher, on a white sheet that has a Chilean flag, right under a portrait of him, where he appears in a suit and tie.

—To think that we were at my father's funeral without knowing it, when we went to Mario Ávila's —says one of the children, while Sandra, the youngest of the clan, takes some bones and kisses them.

After 30 minutes, where they explained all the processes that had been performed on the pieces to determine that they were Arturo Villegas's, the family is convinced that they are in front of him: “Okay, it's uncle,” says a nephew, and then they pray an Our Father and a Hail Mary.

Together, they take the bones and place them in the urn, the same one that Estrella saw at the funeral home days earlier. Upon leaving, they applaud. There is sorrow, but the joy is greater.

The next day, around 300 people attended his funeral, among them members of the Association of Forcibly Disappeared Persons, the Socialist Party, relatives, friends, former Fanaloza workers, and also Mario Ávila Jr. and his mother Doris Reyes, who on August 31 will have their own reunion, when they are handed the remains of their relative: Arturo Villegas and Mario Ávila have returned.

Source: La Segunda, August 17, 2019

On April 29, 2011, the Minister of Jurisdiction Mr. Alejandro Solís Muñoz, of the Illustrious Court of Appeals of Santiago, in case Roll No. 2.182-1998, “Coelemu,” for the crimes of kidnapping committed against LUIS BERNARDO ACEVEDO ANDRADE, OMAR LAUTARO HENRÍQUEZ LÓPEZ, AND ARTURO SEGUNDO VILLEGAS VILLAGRÁN, issued a final judgment of first instance, by which:

(I.-) Regarding the criminal action

a) JUAN LORENZO ABELLO VILDÓSOLA is sentenced, in his capacity as author of the crime of aggravated kidnapping committed against ARTURO VILLEGAS VILLAGRÁN, to the penalty of 10 years and 1 day of major imprisonment in its minimum degree, plus legal accessories and the payment of court costs; b) JOSÉ RENÉ JARA CARO is sentenced, in his capacity as author of the crime of aggravated kidnapping committed against LUIS ACEVEDO ANDRADE, to the penalty of 10 years and 1 day of major imprisonment in its minimum degree, plus legal accessories and the payment of court costs; c) HERIBERTO OSVALDO ROJAS JIMÉNEZ is sentenced, in his capacity as author of the crime of aggravated kidnapping committed against LUIS ACEVEDO ANDRADE, to the penalty of 10 years and 1 day of major imprisonment in its minimum degree, plus legal accessories and the payment of court costs; d) CARLOS AGUILLÓN HENRÍQUEZ is sentenced, in his capacity as accomplice to the crime of aggravated kidnapping committed against ARTURO VILLEGAS VILLAGRÁN, to the penalty of 3 years of minor imprisonment in its medium degree, plus legal accessories and the payment of court costs; e) BENIAMINO ANTONIO BOZZO BASSO is sentenced, in his capacity as accomplice to the crime of aggravated kidnapping committed against OMAR MANRÍQUEZ LÓPEZ, to suffer the penalty of 3 years of minor imprisonment in its medium degree, plus legal accessories and the payment of court costs; f) SERGIO ARÉVALO CID is sentenced, in his capacity as accessory after the fact to the crime of aggravated kidnapping committed against LUIS ACEVEDO ANDRADE, to suffer the penalty of 541 days of minor imprisonment in its medium degree, plus legal accessories and the payment of court costs; g) RENATO GUILLERMO RODRÍGUEZ SULLIVAN is sentenced, in his capacity as accessory after the fact to the crime of aggravated kidnapping committed against LUIS ACEVEDO ANDRADE, to suffer the penalty of 541 days of minor imprisonment in its medium degree, plus legal accessories and the payment of court costs; h) MAXIMINO CARES LARA is sentenced, in his capacity as accessory after the fact to the crime of aggravated kidnapping committed against LUIS ACEVEDO ANDRADE, to suffer the penalty of 541 days of minor imprisonment in its medium degree, plus legal accessories and the payment of court costs. Given the amount of the custodial sanctions imposed on the convicted BENIAMINO BOZZO BASSO, CARLOS AGUILLÓN HENRÍQUEZ, SERGIO ARÉVALO CID, RENATO GUILLERMO RODRÍGUEZ SULLIVAN, and MAXIMINO CARES LARA, as the requirements contained in Article 4 of Law No. 18.216 are met, they are granted the benefit of the conditional remission of the sentence.

(II.-) Regarding the civil action, the exception of incompetence filed by the State Defense Council is accepted.

Source: Judiciary, 2011

Protest against the possible release of six former military officers of the Chilean dictatorship

Victims of the Augusto Pinochet dictatorship (1973-1990) protested today in Santiago against the possible release of six former military officers convicted of human rights violations, after the justice system accepted several requests presented by the inmates.

The Court of Appeals of Santiago, through its Parole Commission, decided to accept 198 of the 1,822 requests presented by inmates of the Santiago Metropolitan Region to access that benefit, a decision that must still be ratified by the Government.

Of them, six are former military officers serving prison time in the Cordillera and Punta Peuco prisons, such as Víctor Pinto Pérez, sentenced to 8 years for the crime of the union leader Tucapel Jiménez, and Carlos López Tapia, who directed the former Villa Grimaldi torture center.

López is a cousin of former judge Juan Guzmán, the first to prosecute Augusto Pinochet in Chile.

The other beneficiaries are Primitivo Castro Campos, Luis Romo Morales, Miguel Soto Duarte, and Alejandro Molina Cisternas.

After the judicial decision, the Regional Ministerial Secretariat of Justice of the Santiago metropolitan region will be the one to determine whether or not to finally approve the release of these repressors.

Opposition deputies Hugo Gutiérrez and Tucapel Jiménez, the latter the son of the murdered union leader, will present a letter to the president, Sebastián Piñera, in the coming days to request that he prevent the six former military officers from being released, as reported to Efe by Gutiérrez himself.

In protest against the judicial resolution, a dozen members of the Association of Relatives of Political Execution Victims (AFEP) occupied the offices of the Human Rights Program of the Ministry of the Interior in Santiago today.

The president of the AFEP, Alicia Lira, explained that with this occupation, they intend to express their "repudiation of the way in which the Government has been indifferent" to the victims, while "the perpetrators continue to be given benefits and are being released."

Lira also denounced that in the last year, the Human Rights Program has filed only 17 complaints for cases of political execution victims and has not joined the more than 700 that the AFEP has presented to the justice system.

Meanwhile, representatives of the Association of Relatives of Forcibly Disappeared Persons (AFDD) plan to meet in the coming days with the president of the Supreme Court, Milton Juica, to express their "astonishment" at the possible release of repressors.

"It seems unacceptable to us that at this point, this type of favor is done, once again, to human rights violators," Gabriela Zúñiga, spokesperson for the AFDD, told Efe, who has also requested a meeting with the Minister of Justice, Felipe Bulnes.

On the other hand, Supreme Court judge Alejandro Solís sentenced eight repressors yesterday for the aggravated kidnapping (disappearance) of three opponents, which occurred in 1974, although he only dictated effective prison time for three of them.

In a first-instance sentence for the case known as "Coelemu," the magistrate sentenced former Carabineros Juan Abello Vildósola, José Jara Caro, and Heriberto Rojas Jiménez to ten years and one day in prison, without benefits, as authors of the events.

In addition, he sentenced civilians Carlos Aguillón Henríquez and Beniamino Bozzo Basso to 3 years in prison as accomplices, and former Carabineros Sergio Arévalo Cid, Maximino Cares Lara, and Renato Rodríguez Sullivan to 541 days in prison as accessories after the fact.

For the five of them, he granted the conditional remission of the sentence, a benefit similar to supervised release.

This investigation refers to the disappearance of the communist militant Luis Acevedo Andrade, who was mayor of Coelemu, and the socialists Omar Henríquez López and Arturo Villegas Villagrán, which occurred in 1974 in that town in the southern Biobío region.

Source: Agencia EFE, May 4, 2011

Finding of remains of a forcibly disappeared person could reduce the sentence of a Punta Peuco inmate

As explained by lawyer Raúl Meza, the finding of the remains of one of the victims of the Coelemu case could reduce the sentences of the retired Carabineros colonel, Juan Lorenzo Abello Vildósola.

An exhumation procedure carried out almost three years ago in the Penco cemetery sought to determine the identity of Mario Ávila Maldonado, a socialist militant murdered in 1973. However, it also ended up finding the remains of another person, whose identity was unknown until a few days ago.

Finally, as reported by Radio Bío Bío, the person in question ended up being one of the three forcibly disappeared persons kidnapped between 1973 and 1974 for the Coelemu case. The identity, however, is not yet publicly revealed, as the relatives will be notified first.

Some who immediately began their calculations due to the appearance of the bones were the lawyers of those involved in the Coelemu case. This is the case of Raúl Meza, lawyer for the Punta Peuco inmates, who said that this new information could reduce the sentence of the retired Carabineros colonel Juan Lorenzo Abello Vildósola.

“If the person, as it would be confirmed, is someone whose remains were found, and therefore we go from aggravated kidnapping to aggravated homicide, clearly the Court could make a sentence reduction. Now, there is a fundamental issue: if there is a serious judicial error here in relation to the crime of aggravated kidnapping, it can be presumed that there could also have been errors regarding the others imputed to the convict in Punta Peuco,” said Meza to Radio Bío Bío, who also asserted that his client was innocent.

Abello Vildósola was sentenced to five years and one day for the disappearance of Omar Lautaro Henríquez López, Arturo Segundo Villegas Villagrán, and the mayor of Coelemu, Luis Bernardo Acevedo Andrade. In November, he was the only inmate of Punta Peuco to whom the Court of Appeals granted parole.

Source: El Desconcierto, December 11, 2017