Tessa Moura Lacerda, a philosophy professor, reveals the emotional toll of her father's torture and death under Brazil's military regime in the 1970s as she fights to have his death certificate properly amended. Her story sheds light on the enduring trauma connected to this dark chapter in Brazil's history and the struggles families face in seeking justice and acknowledgment from the state.
The Fight for Truth: A Daughter's Long Battle for Her Father's Death Certificate

The Fight for Truth: A Daughter's Long Battle for Her Father's Death Certificate
Tessa Moura Lacerda shares her journey to secure a correct death certificate for her father, a victim of Brazil's military dictatorship, highlighting the family's ongoing quest for justice and recognition.
Tessa Moura Lacerda stands in the rain-drenched streets of São Paulo, clutching a piece of paper that represents years of struggle and sorrow. In August 2019, she and her mother proudly held their father's corrected death certificate—a small victory in a long battle against the lingering shadows of Brazil's military dictatorship. The document reflects the horrific truth: "unnatural, violent death caused by the State to a missing person [...] in the dictatorial regime established in 1964."
Her father, Gildo Macedo Lacerda, was tortured and killed at the age of 24, one of the many sacrificed during the dark days of Brazil's military rule. A national truth commission estimates over 434 people were killed or disappeared as dissenters were silenced. Tessa’s parents were arrested for their political beliefs—their pursuit of democracy leading them into the clutches of oppressive forces.
While her mother, Mariluce, endured interrogation and terror, Gildo vanished, believed to be killed shortly after their detention. Despite the commission uncovering testimonies from fellow prisoners who heard Gildo’s agonized screams, the government dished out false media narratives, sowing confusion and deception about the fate of countless dissidents.
The initial death certificate, issued in 1995, left out the cause of death—a harrowing reminder of the systemic denial faced by families of the disappeared. Tessa reflects on her life, shadowed by her father’s absence and the pain of never having buried him. "It's trauma. I was born with it," she admitted, describing how his story haunted her dreams and influenced her as a mother.
Years later, rectifying her father's death certificate bore profound significance—not solely for their family, but as a symbolic act of remembrance for all who suffered under the regime. Tessa has continued this fight alongside other families, spurred by Brazil’s recent decision to process death certificate amendments acknowledging victims’ suffering.
The national conversation surrounding these dark archives has reignited, particularly with the release of "I'm Still Here," a film exploring similar themes. Based on true stories of families affected by the military's brutal rule, it resonates deeply within a country rife with political division and the echoes of its past.
As Brazilians grapple with their recent history, the scars left by lost lives and unresolved trauma remain palpable. Tessa, alongside advocates like Marta Costta, whose aunt also fell victim to the regime, remains committed to seeking justice and recognition for the wronged. While they may now receive certificates acknowledging the state's complicity in the deaths of their loved ones, the need for a more profound acknowledgment—a formal apology and accountability—lingers.
"Brazilian society needs to recognize this history so these deaths weren't in vain," Tessa asserts passionately. For her, the battle isn't over until she can finally lay her father to rest.