Summarily, after trials without guarantees and with almost identical sentences, with the same charges and the same witnesses, 107 republican prisoners were shot in 1939 before the wall of the parish cemetery of Colmenar Viejo, in Madrid. After the crime, another indignity: the bodies were buried, according to the stories of the time, in two different mass graves. If the condemned accepted God on the eve of the execution, they went to the pit on the promenade, next to the wall of the enclosure, now fully integrated into the cemetery. The rest, except for those whose families had the opportunity to collect badly after the coup de grace, ended up in the so-called grave of the desperate, which over the years was an ossuary and a dump, in a hidden corner. Archaeologists discover 150 more mass graves in Madrid than those previously recorded Learn more The story is remembered by Esther Mateo, a relative of a triple victim. Cecilio Sanz, his mother’s uncle, Cipriano Mateo, his father’s cousin, and his grandfather, Manuel Mateo, who was mayor of San Sebastián de los Reyes, shot on a Catholic Sunday, in a hurry, before the commutation order arrived. Her granddaughter today follows the progress of the exhumation work in the grave, the first in Madrid in search of civilian victims. For the work, an item of 20,000 euros was essential for which the Truth Commission of San Sebastián de los Reyes fought, finally requested by the City Council of that municipality and granted by the Secretary of State for Democratic Memory. The money is only enough to raise a third of it and, for 10 days, the team from the Aranzadi Science Society, with the assistance of volunteers from the Archeology Team A association, has worked flat out, 11-hour shifts, to advance as far as possible. On Tuesday there were already 13 remains that they had been able to catalog. Many are missing, but it’s time to stop. “We get excited working,” says Almudena García-Rubio, forensic anthropologist and director of the excavation, who explains that they do not have enough information to determine if there was a method in the burials. Some remains appeared in boxes. Others lay loose. “But since we only have half, we don’t know if there is a pattern,” she explains. On Wednesday, the visit of the minister of the branch, Félix Bolaños, was scheduled, and the families hoped to start a commitment that would allow them to complete the work begun. Regarding the regional government, Madrid, says García-Rubio, is not like the Basque Country or the Balearic Islands, where they have worked lately: “There the Government is clear about it and there is financing”. Eight decades of taboo Benita Navacerrada López is 90 years old and she trusts that the work will end and the DNA of the exhumed bones can begin to be compared with those of the descendants. “I’m happy, with the desire, but if they don’t take it out I’m happy, there are many involved,” says the woman. The execution of Facundo Navacerrada left a family of eight children without a father. Three of the brothers died shortly after. At the age of 10, Benita took care of the offspring of one of those who denounced her father. Her daughter, Gema López Navacerrada, completes the sentences where Benita does not arrive. 83 years have passed, but talking about it is still taboo. 90,000 people live in San Sebastián de los Reyes today. In ’36, there were barely 1,400. Everyone was a neighbor and today the descendants continue to know each other. “There are booths at parties with the same surnames,” she says. Sanse is, in fact, the municipality with the most executions in Colmenar in proportion to the population at the time, with 25. From Colmenar Viejo, the most important locality, there are 44, by 16 from Fuencarral, 11 from Hortaleza (these two, independent municipalities before of its integration in Madrid), Moralzarzal, with five and Chozas de la Sierra (today Soto del Real), with three. There are two in Manzanares el Real and many others in Miraflores de la Sierra and El Molar. The book La sierra convulsa, coordinated by the historian Roberto Fernández, whose work helped name the oral accounts, gives memory associations a rope to hold on to, gives an account of the methodical fascist repression in northern Madrid. break the fears that persist. “I am very sorry that it is covered, having excavated a quarter of what we know there is,” he laments. The historian recognizes the role of the Archbishop of Madrid, Carlos Osoro, “a liberal among sharks.” The previous priest of Colmenar had only agreed to install an aseptic plate, like a spa: “In memory of all those who rest in this place.” Today is different, all the names and origins of those shot can be seen on a poster over the grave. “When the first one came out [de los esqueletos], many burst into tears,” says Carmen Carreras, secretary of the Truth Commission Association of San Sebastián de los Reyes. A week later, the initial shock had given way to a certain joy. Family and friends approached the cemetery, greeted each other, laughed, hugged. “There is a sense that we have arrived, even if it is only the beginning,” she says. “It is a great victory”, celebrates Gema López Navacerrada, who points out: “Even if my grandfather does not come out, it is a milestone”.