Prime Crime: Solved Murders - Front Line Defender: Berta Cáceres

Episode Date: April 19, 2023

On the evening of March 2nd, 2016, indigenous environmental activist Berta Cáceres was murdered in her home by armed intruders. Due to widespread corruption in Honduras, police weren't motivated to solve the case. Her family knew she was killed for trying to stop urban development on sacred land. They just needed to prove it. If you’d like to take action on the climate or learn more about the topics covered in “Dark Green: Earth Crimes and Conspiracies,” visit www.spotify.com/darkgreenresources. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hi, Parkast listeners, Carter here. And this is Wendy. Welcome back to dark green, earth crimes and conspiracies. For this event, Parkast is investigating the shadowy corners where crime and the environment meet. And telling those stories. Because climate change affects all parts of society, including crimes and conspiracies. If you're enjoying our Earth Day episodes and would like to learn more or take action on the climate, visit at www.spotify.com slash dark green resources.

Due to the graphic nature of this episode, listener discretion is advised. This episode includes discussions of gun violence, assault, and murder. Consider this when deciding how and when you'll listen. A note before we begin, though today's story is true, certain moments have been fictionalized and dramatized by actors. On April 20th, 2015, Honduran activist Bertha Kassaris ascended the stage in a San Francisco opera house to a standing ovation of almost 4,000 people. She just won the Goldman Prize, the highest award for environmental activism in the world.

But Bertha wasn't there to bask in her accomplishments. She wanted to send a message. In our worldviews, we are the beings who come from the earth, from the water and from the corn. The Linka people are ancestral guardians of the rivers. Bertha spoke about the sacred waters of her people, waters she fought years to defend, about how the rights of indigenous communities

went hand in hand with this fight. Then, looking up to the crowd of international elites, she addressed her audience directly. Let us wake up. Let us wake up humankind. We are out of time. We must shake our conscience free or we will only assure our own self-destruction.

Let us come together and remain hopeful as we defend and care for the blood of this earth and of its spirits. I dedicate this award to all the rebels out there, to my mother, to the Lenka people, to Rio Blanco, and to the martyrs who gave their lives in the stories lives in the struggle to defend our natural resources. Thank you. As Bertha stood on stage to

roaring applause, she finally took it all in just for a moment. Maybe she knew that soon she'd become a martyr herself. Welcome to Solved Murder's True Crime Mysteries, a Spotify original from Parcast. I'm your host Carter Roy. And I'm your host Wendy McKenzie. Every Wednesday, day we step into the world of true crimes, most fascinating murder cases, and tell the tale of how real-life detectives closed the case. You can find episodes of solved murders and all other Spotify originals from Parcast for free exclusively on Spotify. This is our only episode on environmental activist Bertha Kassaris. Bertha dedicated herself to defending Honduras' natural resources and indigenous communities, bringing her cause to the world.

until it caused her, her life. To solve Berta's murder, her loved ones went head to head with a corrupt justice system, facing the same dangers that killed Berta in the first place, dangers some activists still face today. We have all that and more coming up. Stay with us. Yamava Resort and Casino at San Manuel is California's number one entertainment destination for today's superstars. Catch the Jonas Brothers return to the Yamava Theater stage on April 30th. the powerful vocals of Demi Lovato on May 17th

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and other fan favorite teams all season long, with select games streaming with ESPN on Disney Plus. Let's go! US residents, 18 Plus only. Select Banana Ball games available to all Disney Plus subscribers. Terms apply. March 2, 2016. It was just before midnight,

and Gustavo Castro was terrified. He sat on Berta Kossaris' bedroom floor, shaking, and covered in blood. Gustavo was a friend of Bertha's, a Mexican environmentalist, staying at her home in Honduras. Minutes before, he'd been in the guest room working, when everything fell apart. Someone kicked in the front door, a stranger appeared in his bedroom, then gunfire. In just seconds, both he and Bertha were shot, and then, as quickly as they arrived, the men left. Gustavo was only grazed by a bullet to the ear, but when he was,

ran to Bertha's room, he saw that she hadn't been so lucky. Bertha had multiple bullet wounds and was quickly losing blood. With her final breaths, she begged Gustavo to use her phone to call for help. A minute later, she died in his arms. Gustavo called every name he recognized in Bertha's phone, but no one picked up. It took about an hour for someone to finally call him back. Bertha's colleagues instructed Gustavo to stay where he was and not to call the police. Help was on the way. After 2 a.m., Tomas Gomez, Bertha's right-hand man pulled up at the house. Thomas had notified the police, but both he and Gustavo knew it was better if they weren't around when the cops arrived.

So Gustavo scrambled into Thomas's pickup and the men drove away. By the next morning, the news was ever. everywhere. 44-year-old Bertha Kassaris, Honduras's most celebrated activist, had been murdered, just months after receiving the Goldman Prize. For Bertha supporters, the news was crushing. But unfortunately, it wasn't a shock. Honduras has a long history of violence against activists.

But in the years before Bertha's death, it became so much worse. From 2010 to 2014, over 100 eco-activists had been murdered in Honduras alone, and the death toll was still growing. Anyone defending the land from developers was at risk, and over three decades working as a grassroots organizer, Bertha had made powerful enemies. Bertha Casseris grew up in a family of activists in the 1980s, a period in Honduras called the Dirty War when political dissidents were often abducted, tortured, or killed by the government. As a child, she saw firsthand the cost of standing up for what was right, but she

became an activist anyway. She wanted to join the fight. Berta began as a student activist. Over time, she took a special interest in indigenous issues, her own people. Berta was a member of the Linka community, the largest indigenous group in Hunta. Despite their numbers, the Lenka people were often viewed as second class. In her book, Who Killed Berta Kassaris? Journalist Nina Lakani writes that all indigenous people in Honduras were, quote, considered living fossils, the stuff of history and folklore, not an ancestral community with rights. This meant native territories in Honduras were often a battleground for destructive urban development.

The government and corporations had almost no regard for the communities living there. Bertha and her colleagues fought to change that. In her early 20s, she co-founded the National Council of Popular and Indigenous Organizations of Honduras, known as Copene. Copene was a grassroots organization in every sense. Bertha organized protests, roadblocks, and sit-ins. She drove dozens of developers off native territory. but over time the threats against them grew larger. Corporations began exploiting huge tracks of once protected land.

Suddenly Berto was fighting multiple operations at once. But of all her many enemies, perhaps her biggest, were the powers behind Agua Sarka. Agua Sarka was a collection of four different hydroelectric dams, authorized without debate and likely without a single environmental study. The Honduran government essentially approved everything in secret. This isn't uncommon with large-scale projects that impact the environment. Governments and businesses work under the radar to avoid bad press.

You see, Aguasarka was slated for construction in the Rio Blanco, a mountainous region of Honduras where rivers wound through lush forest. By harnessing their current, Aguasarka would generate electricity that could be sold off nationally. there was major money involved. So much money, the project was backed by international banks and a new company was created just to run the operation. They called it Dessa. From a business perspective, it seemed foolproof.

Dessa would profit and Honduras would have more energy. But the land wasn't theirs to exploit. The Rio Blanco was home to countless Lenka, the same community Berta belonged to, for the better part of it. century they occupied the area in a collection of compasinos living and working on communal land. The construction of Aguasarka would displace these communities, and to add insult to injury, all four dams were to be built along the Gualcarca River, a place sacred to the Lanka people.

Rio Gualcarque is said to be the home of female spirits who protect the Lanka, but it's also essential to agriculture in the region. a dam would devastate the Lenka's livelihood and be an attack on their spiritual identity. As machinery began to invade the Rio Blanco, the community reached out to Copin, and Bertha answered their pleas. By this time, Copin had more than a decade of successfully defending indigenous land under their belt, but Bertha knew this fight would be bigger than any she'd faced before. The project had government support and international well. wealth. She had a giant to slay.

So she got to work. Her strategy had several layers. On the local level, she orchestrated peaceful marches in town halls, where the community voted against the project. She also petitioned the government, citing the Linka's legal right to their land. But Bertha didn't stop there. She submitted the case to global human rights committees and even contacted an international bank who she suspected was funding Aguasarka, asking it to withdraw its support. It didn't work. The government denied her petitions, and the bank ignored her request. And soon it was clear Dessa and the city were colluding. After the Campesinos voted overwhelmingly against the dams, officials gathered fraudulent signatures to create an illusion of community

support. When that wasn't enough, they used intimidation. Dessa hired armed, guards and informants with violent reputations. Nina Lacani wrote that at times they'd even resort to torture. One man's fingers were chopped off, another's home was burned down. Their message was clear. Anyone who opposed the dam would suffer. Bertha was alarmed, but hardly surprised. She'd seen these tactics before.

The situation had escalated beyond petitions and formal complaints. She knew they needed direct action. There were only a few paved roads into Rio Blanco, which meant a strategic blockade could completely derail Dessa's progress. So in April 2013, the community constructed a roadblock. They obstructed the road with boulders and set up camp with protesters trading off in 12-hour shifts day and night. They even dug a trench in the road and surrounded it with fences. As long as they were there, it was nearly impossible for Dessa to enter.

It was a bold move, and Berta knew there'd be consequences. So she came to the roadblock to speak about the fight ahead. Based on accounts of her speech, this is what was conveyed. No one expected the Lenka people to stand up against this powerful monster. And yet we indigenous people have been resisting for over 520 years. We have power, Companeros, and this is why we still exist. But I must ask you, are you sure you want to fight this project? Because it will be tough.

I will fight alongside you until the end. But are you prepared? This is a struggle that will take years, not days. The people decided to move forward and Bertha was right. It did take years. but what they faced was more awful than what she imagined. Dessa's campaign of intimidation devolved into bloodshed. Community members were killed, including one of the movement's most beloved organizers,

Thomas Garcia, but the Link of People continued to fight. For over a year, they maintained the roadblock, keeping out Dessa from the dam site. Even when the blockade was broken and protesters were assaulted, they got back up and reorganized, and soon the world began to notice. After the murders, news of Berta's fight spread outside of Honduras. The optics weren't good for Dessa. In 2013, their international construction partners backed out of the project, citing the community resistance, and one of their major investors, World Bank, cut off funding due to human rights violations.

This was an enormous victory, and for their efforts, in 2014, Berta learned she'd be awarded the Goldman Prize, considered the Nobel Prize of Environmental Activism. She was hesitant to accept. Berta was a grassroots organizer, not a figurehead, but she knew there was an advantage to the publicity. After years of struggle, the world could finally see what was happening in the Rio Blanco. Copin hoped that the visibility, would protect them, but Bertha knew better. In the months surrounding the award ceremony, Bertha received threats.

She was followed by unmarked cars. Even her four children were threatened. Scared, she urged her kids to leave Honduras, but she refused to flee herself. She had to stay and fight, but also Bertha had a hunch to follow. She had a feeling Agu-Sarka was connected to other destructive projects in Honduras. Other dams and mines that threatened indigenous people's homes. It might be financed by those same residents' tax dollars. The corruption could stretch up to a national level.

So in the winter of 2016, she started following the money trail behind Dessa. And it seemed like she found something. In late February, she contacted two colleagues and urged them to meet with her. But she never got the chance because that same week she was murdered. Bertha was too late, but her supporters knew she had uncovered something vital. And now it was up to them to find out what. Coming up, a different struggle for justice. Listeners, we hope you're enjoying our Earth Day special.

Here's a reminder that you can find more of dark green, earth crimes, and conspiracies on other podcast series all month long. Serial Killers has done an incredible job with their explorations of two men whose love of the outdoors was surpassed by their desires to kill. Check out their episodes on the unicorn killer Ira Einhorn and the National Forest Killer, Gary Einhorn, and the National Forest Killer, Gary. Michael Hilton. You can also find new episodes on conspiracy theories, unexplained mysteries, and disappearances. And if you'd like to take action on the climate or learn more about the topics covered in dark green, earth crimes, and conspiracies, visit spotify.com slash dark green resources. I knew about investing, but I really didn't know how to go about it. Meet Corey, a Walthfront client. With Welfront, it could put money in and it would automatically

distribute it into a diversified portfolio. Then it starts to compound. The compounding compounds on the compounding. Just let it wrong. And it's great. Over one million clients trust wealthfront. Get started at wealthfront.com. Client was paid $1,000 for their testimonial, creating a conflict of interest. Outcomes vary. Investment management and advisory services provided by Wealthfront Advisors LLC and SEC registered investment advisor. Investing involves risk to principle regardless of the strategy used. Task performance does not guarantee future results. And now, back to our story. On the night of March 2nd, 44-year-old Berta Kosseris lay murdered in her. bedroom. The next morning, Gustavo Castro was being interviewed by police. Not only was he the crime's

sole witness, he was visiting Honduras from Mexico. The conversation couldn't have been pleasant. Gustavo explained to the cops how he was in Bertha's guest room when armed men burst into the house. One man had shot him in the ear and left, believing he was dead. Down the hall, he'd heard them shoot Bertha. Gustavo hadn't seen the man. who killed her, but the one who'd shot him wasn't wearing a mask. He described the man to them, but the police seemed to ignore his descriptions. Instead, they kept asking if maybe someone from Copene was the assailant. Copene?

The group Bertha founded and led in the fight for environmental justice? It was a stretch to say the least, and Gustavo knew it. But while he denied that Copene could be involved, organization members were interrogated anyway. Almost immediately, investigators decided Berta's murder was a crime of passion carried out by jealous members of Copin. Before long, local media was reporting the same. Gustavo was furious.

It seemed like police had disregarded his entire statement only to pursue their own theories. The months of death threats and Berta's long public battle with developers were ignored wholesale, And all this time, her killers were still at large. None of this was surprising to Bertha's colleagues. It was the reason why they advised Gustavo not to call the police in the first place. The cops were notorious for corruption, especially when it came to activists. Few people trusted them. But Gustavo was the crime's only witness.

If he ran, it would look suspicious. He had little choice but to cooperate. He was subjected to a barrage of legal procedures and made to give his witness statement over and over. For days he went without sleep. Eventually, they told Gustavo he was free to go. But then, the police turned on him. The day came when he was booked to fly home to Mexico. Gustavo was beyond relieved.

Finally, he could leave this nightmare behind. But when he arrived at the airport, the Honduran Authority, were waiting for him. Though they claimed they only needed more testimony, it was obvious. Gustavo was now a suspect in his friend's murder. Gustavo was beside himself. He was virtually a prisoner forced to remain in Honduras for the next 30 days, while authorities tried to build a case against him.

On March 5th, while kept under strict surveillance, he could hear the sounds of Bertha's funeral just blocks away. Thousands of mourners flooded the city, a sea of people marching behind Berta's white casket as it was carried through the streets. Fittingly, the event was more of a protest than a funeral. The crowds shouted chants and played drums. They demanded justice for Berta because they knew it wouldn't come from the authorities. And no one was angrier about it than Berta's family. Remember, Berta came from a household of activists.

They understood that if they wanted a fair investigation, they'd have to fight for it. And they did. Bertha's family campaigned for a new investigation, independent from the state. They reached out to human rights organizations across the globe, including the UN, to gather as much support as possible. They demanded Honduras allow full participation of a third-party probe. But they were denied. The state insisted there was no need for outside involvement

and that the Honduran government had everything under control. But the truth was they had nothing. Their investigation into Copin went nowhere, and they couldn't find anything on Gustavo either. After almost a month of holding him against his will, he was finally released. In any other case, they would have let the trail grow cold, but Bertha's murder had become international news. The world was watching, and suddenly there was money on the line.

Hundreds of millions of dollars in U.S. aid. The U.S. stipulated that Honduras had to demonstrate a commitment to cracking down on corruption, or they'd withhold foreign aid. Bertha's murder was the perfect litmus test. The pressure was on, so police went searching for evidence. Now, the state's investigation wasn't exactly transplanted. transparent, and much of what they found wasn't released publicly, but we do know police discovered a few things. The first came from a CCTV camera in Berta's gated neighborhood. Footage from that night recorded three men running past the development's entrance around 11.30 p.m.

Later, police found a hole cut in the perimeter fence large enough for a person to pass through. Another piece of evidence came from phone data. Using nearby cell towers, investigators were able to compile a list of all active phones near Berta's home during the crime. After narrowing the list, they began hunting down their suspects. On Monday, May 2nd, exactly two months after Berta's murder, police arrested five men and rated 10 properties. They called it Operation Jaguar. But it didn't end there. In September, they arrested a sixth suspect, and by early, early 2017, two more were taken into custody. By now, it was almost a year after Berta's murder,

and eight different men had been apprehended. The question was, who were they? And were they actually involved? Half of the suspects arrested by the police didn't seem to have any connection to Berta or each other. They were all young men, mostly from impoverished neighborhoods known for violence. Investigators assumed they were Sicarios, hired hitmen. The other half were easier to identify. There was Henry Hernandez, an ex-sargent and skilled sniper who recently left the army, and also Henry's former commander, a respected major named Mariano Diaz. Unlike his subordinate, Mariano was still active duty. But the last two men in this group were the most suspicious. There was ex-Army Lieutenant Douglas Bustillo, who was also Dessa's former security chief,

and Dessa's communities and environmental manager, Sergio Rodriguez. Bertha had known both men well. Douglas and Sergio had actively obstructed Copene's efforts against the Aguasarca Dam. Sergio, an older man who wore button downs and stylish glasses, was the brains behind Dessa's efforts to suppress Copine. He organized smear campaigns and distributed bribes to informants. He was polite, polished, and all business. Douglas Bustillo was the opposite.

He was a large man with a cropped military haircut and a brash attitude. Bustillo was open about his hatred for Copin, and as the man on the ground directing Dessa's security efforts, he often harassed Berta and other community leaders. Finally, the investigation had ruled. real suspects. It was a major step forward. But there was still a problem. Sergio and Bustillo worked for Dessa. Neither was high-ranking enough to have ordered a hit on Berta. Bertha's family knew the police wouldn't look further up the chain, so in November 2016, they commissioned a panel of

international experts and formed their own probe into the case. They called it Guy Pei. For the next year, Guy Pei worked parallel to Honduran authorities, conducting their own interviews and gathering their own evidence. They investigated not only Bertha's murder, but also the state investigation itself. They looked into possible corruption, and most importantly, whether police had arrested the true killers. Bertha's family felt certain police had some of the culprits, but not all of them. There was one more man they knew had to be involved because Bertha had warned them about him. Dessa's president, David Castillo.

Months earlier, as the battle against the dam raged on, Bertha was suddenly seeing more of Castillo. This concerned her. She was used to Sergio Rodriguez's veiled threats and Douglas Bustillo's blatant harassment. But David Castillo had different tactics. He was a U.S. trained intelligence officer and a graduate of West Point. Eventually, he took his experience in covert warfare to the world of business. Castillo was still young when he got involved in Honduran urban development and co-founded Dessa. Unlike the others, he never threatened Bertha.

In fact, he was charming. In the year before her death, he began requesting meetings to discuss solutions to the conflict. After one of these encounters, Bertha confided in a colleague. Based on other conversations she'd had about Castillo, we imagine it went like this. No, no, he had nothing for us, just more bribes, it always is. I didn't want to meet him, but he's persuasive. And if he's pretending to be friends, well, I'll play that game. But that's what scares me.

The others go around all loud and machista, but this one's smart. He knows what he's doing. I don't know what he's up to, but... Dios meo. I have a bad feeling. Bertha was rarely scared of anyone, but she was afraid of David Castillo. So when she was assassinated, her family knew he was involved. They just had to find the evidence to prove it.

Guy Pai kept digging. For a year they continued their investigation, then in November 2017, they published a report of their findings. What it revealed changed everything. Guy Pai identified huge gaps in the state's official investigation, but that wasn't all. They also gained access to phone data linking three DESA executives to conversations about the murder before it happened. Guy Pai didn't name them in the report, but various files suggested one of those executives.

was David Castillo. They'd finally found what they were looking for. Actual evidence that Castillo was one of the masterminds of the assassination. The world was already watching, but the Guy Pay report ignited international outrage. American politicians demanded that aid to Honduras be stopped. There was more pressure on the investigation than ever, and the clock was ticking. Months passed. Then on March 2nd, 2000.

On the second anniversary of Berta's murder, police finally arrested David Castile. But no one was celebrating yet. There were still nine suspects to bring to trial, and if Berta's family was right, there were still more out there. Coming up, Berta's supporters seek justice in a corrupt court. And now, back to her story. By the second anniversary of her death, nine men had. been arrested for Berta Kasseras's murder. Half of them had ties to the Honduran military, and three were Dessa employees. People Berta had come face to face with in her fight against

the Aguasarka Dam. These men were Sergio Rodriguez. Dessa's communities and environmental manager. Douglas Bustillo. The company's ex-security chief. And David Castillo. Dessa's president and co-founder. A botched investigation meant it had taken two years to apprehend the suspects. And if it hadn't been for the tenacity of Berta's family and their lawyers, they may have never been apprehended. This in itself was an incredible feat. A study conducted in Honduras' major cities in 2014 reported only 7% of homicide cases went to trial, and just 1% saw a conviction.

And this sets the scene for the next phase of our story, because when Berta's case came to the courts, the fight for justice only got more difficult. When Guy Pai, the independent investigation team, published their findings, they referenced other executives as potential masterminds of Berta's murder. And though they weren't listed in the report, evidence pointed to some big names, like co-founder and CFO of Dessa, Daniel Atala Medense. But Daniel wasn't just connected to Dessa. He was also a member of one of Honduras's most powerful families, the Atala clan. The Atalas had formed something of an empire in Honduras, particularly in banking. Before the trial, Guy Pay shared information with the state suggesting Daniel Atala was involved.

But the prosecution ignored them. And when the family's representatives asked that Daniel at last, least testify a trial, the court claimed it was an excessive request. Bertha's family wouldn't accept this. They filed a petition to replace the trial's judges, accusing them of obstructing justice. For a month, the court considered their request, but eventually they rejected it. This was just a start of many slippery moves, because the very next day, after rejecting the petition, and with very little notice, the trial began. And because the family's counsel wasn't present, the court ruled they'd abandon the case and were barred from participating.

The independent prosecutors had been locked out. Now their only hope of convicting Berta's killers lay in the hands of a corrupt court. The trial for the first eight defendants opened on October 25, 2018. David Castillo would be tried separately. Without Berta's supporters filling the public. gallery, the courtroom was half empty. Journalist Nina Lakani was one of the few observers of this trial. She wrote that, quote, the atmosphere felt flat, more like a provincial traffic case than a notorious murder trial. The Honduran justice system relies solely on judges who already know

the case, not juries. That meant the attorney's arguments were overly complicated and most evidence wasn't presented at trial. Nina compared the experience to listening to a conversation through a wall, but some parts were easier to understand. For example, the crux of the prosecution's case was based on phone data, and over a thousand pages of that data was taken from Daniel Atala's phone. This was the evidence Guy Pay had referenced, but instead of pursuing an investigation into the Atalas,

it was used to build a case against everyone else. There were texts proving Douglas Bustillo and Sergio Rodriguez had been paying informants to spy on Berta. In these messages, there were also discussions of how much the Saccarios would be paid for the job. The prosecution learned the men had tried to assassinate Berta before, but when they realized she was with her daughters, they were forced to abort the mission. The information on Daniel's phone was so vast, the prosecution was able to use his data to increase criminate almost every defendant. The trial closed after five weeks. Every single defendant pleaded innocence and all but one was found guilty. The court cleared one of the suspected Sicarios,

but the other seven men, including Sergio Rodriguez and Douglas Bustillo, were convicted. In December 2019, each of them were sentenced to 30 to 50 years in prison. This was a small victory but Berta's family knew their biggest fight was ahead of them. David Castillo had yet to see his day in court. Castillo's trial was held a year and a half later in April 2021, but this time the judges allowed Berta's independent counsel to present their arguments alongside the state prosecutor. Of course, Castillo denied any involvement in Berta's murder.

He claimed that he and Berta were actually frank, friends, and her death was a personal tragedy for him. Any evidence that suggested otherwise was misconstrued. Once again, much of that evidence was from phone data, and surprisingly, Castillo's text with Bertha were friendly. They checked in often wishing each other happy birthday or discussing their plans for the week. This baffled the court. By all logic, Bertha and Castillo should have been enemies. But as the prosecution presented more messages, it seemed likely they were using each other, playing friendly in order to gain each other's trust. Clearly, that's what Castillo was doing. His messages revealed that he relayed intel about Bertha to executives at Dessa. Included in

this text group were Daniel Atala and other members of the Atala family. They used this chain to stay in close contact around the time of Bertha's murder. But when Sergio was arrested after her death, urgency led Castillo to call Desa Vice President Hacobo Atala Saba, Daniel's uncle. The recording of that call revealed a particularly damning conversation. David Castillo and Hakobo discussed who they should contact for help, mentioning both the Honduran Security Minister and the Assistant Attorney General. To the Independent Council, this suggested the Atollah's had allies

had allies in the government. It also confirmed Berta's family's suspicions. Dessa's corruption clearly didn't end with David Castillo, but the question was, how high did this conspiracy go? Unfortunately, this wouldn't be answered at trial, but the Cossarus family didn't walk away with nothing. On July 5, 2021, David Castillo was found guilty as a co-conspirator in Berta Cosseris' murder,

A year later, he was sentenced to 22 and a half years in prison. Now, with the trials finished and eight men in jail, the public understood how they orchestrated Berta's assassination and what role each man played. David Castillo ordered her murder, sourced the money to pay her killers, and seemingly gained Berta's trust enough to monitor her and report her movements back to Dessa's executives. Sergio Rodriguez organized informants to do the same. Meanwhile, Douglas Bustillo was the go-between reporting to Castillo and carrying out the operation on the ground. His old military colleague Mariano Diaz helped him find weapons and even introduced Douglas to Henry Hernandez.

Henry hired the three Sicarios who carried out the job. On March 2, 2016, the Sicarios drove to the outskirts of La Esperanza, Berta lived. One man would wait with a getaway car while the other two carried out the job. They figured two men for one hit would be more than enough. After months of careful coordination, it all culminated on that horrible night. Based on everything we know about the case, this is likely what happened next. That night around 10 p.m., Berta sat on her front porch with Gustavo. As they took in the cool air, she couldn't help but feel.

grateful for his company, especially now. Gustavo was supposed to be staying with another colleague, but after Berta told him about the threats, the phone calls, and the strange cars that were following her around, he insisted she let him stay with her. Bertha wanted to laugh it off and tell him she was fine, that it was nothing she hadn't dealt with before, but truthfully she was scared, so she agreed. The two worked together for a while. Berta was in the thick of investigating the money behind Agua Sarka.

She'd been staying up late, looking into banks, and sending emails. But that night, working turned into chatting. Eventually, she put her laptop aside. Gustavo's visit was a welcome break, and she deserved a break. Around 11 p.m., the two called it a night. Gustavo retreated to the guest room, and Berta went to her bedroom at the other end of the hall. But she wasn't tired.

Her mind was still busy, so she decided to keep working. Bertha perched on the bed with her laptop and sent a few last messages. She was in the middle of typing when it started, sharp banging at the door, as if someone was trying to break it down. Beretta leapt to her feet, heart pounding, she threw open her bedroom door looking down the hall. Who's out there? From the dark, a figure emerged, a young man barely 20 years old. Bertha's eyes locked onto his, and then he charged. The two struggled for a moment, and she fought back hard.

She clawed at the intruder, trying to push him away, but then he pulled out his gun. Bertha collapsed, falling on her back. She was hurt badly, but she kept fighting until she couldn't continue. The gunman hit her a few more times, then fled. Bertha laid on her bedroom floor, bleeding. Gustavo Gustavo Gustavo

Gustavo Gustavo Gustavo Gustavo rushed into the room and crouched next to her he'd only

been shot in the ear but Bertha knew she was dying Get my phone and call coping

call them Gustavo held her begging her to stay with him but she'd already lost so much

blood and soon she was hardly breathing moments later Bertha was gone

It's unclear where the killers went after the murder, but by that point, the two Sicarios who'd shot Bertha and Gustavo had likely jumped in the waiting getaway car and raced away. In their minds, the job was done. Those men were now in prison for Bertha's murder. It was a victory for certain, but it was hard won. Victor Fernandez, one of Bertha's family lawyers, put it best, He said to the guardian, quote, We have nothing to thank the justice system for.

It was they who persecuted Berta, they criminalized her and displaced her. This victory is a result of our militancy. And unfortunately, their fight isn't done. Berta's family suspects that the eight convicted men didn't act alone. Despite all their efforts, they believe the true engineers of her assault. assassination are still walking free. But as of this recording, it's been five years, and Honduras hasn't made any arrests since David Castillo.

Currently, the family is pursuing a lawsuit against Dutch Bank FMO, one of Dessa's former financiers. In a public-facing web page, FMO states that while the case is still ongoing, both parties have, quote, decided to start a settlement procedure to find common ground. Meanwhile, Bertha's family and the members of Copin hope to uncover more about who else was behind Bertha's murder. Justice has only been half one for Bertha, but her death has exposed the violence threatening environmental defenders. Not just in Honduras, but everywhere. At least 1,700 activists have been killed in the last decade alone, and an alarming number of them are indigenous. like Berta, yet they still stand on the front lines fighting for their homes, for the land, and for the water.

It goes to show that Berta's fight wasn't in vain. She inspired the next generation of environmental justice activists, and today the Agua Sarka project has been suspended, and the sacred Guacarca River flows freely through Rio Blanco. For now. But if we learn anything from Berta's story, let it be that the struggle is not over. Thanks for listening to this episode of Dark Green, Earth Crimes and Conspiracies, brought to you by Solved Murders, a Spotify original from Parcast. Be sure to check out our other shows like Unsolved Murders, Unexplained Mysteries, and Serial Killers.

You can find all episodes of Solved Murders for free on Spotify every Wednesday. For more information on this case, amongst the many sources we used, we found Who Killed Berta Kassaris by Nina Lacani extremely helpful to our research. And if you'd like to learn more and take action on the climate, visit www.spotify.com slash dark green resources. We'll see you next time. Solve Murder's True Crime Mysteries is a Spotify original from Parcast. Our head of programming is Julian Bois Roe. sound designer is Russell Nash, with Nick Johnson as our head of production, and quality control by Lisa Marie Gallegos. Stacey Nemek is our supervising editor, and Derek Jennings is our writing

lead. This episode of Solve Murders is written by Alexander Garland, edited by Georgia Hampton and Maggie and Meyer, fact-checked by Claire Cronin, researched by Mickey Taylor, produced by Joshua Kern, and sound design by Alex Button. It stars Melissa Medina as Bertha Kossaris. Our hosts are Wendy McKenzie and me, Carter Roy.