Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - The Tragic Night in Ecuador The Murder of Three Young Friends with Dreams PART2 #12

Episode Date: November 18, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #truecrime #tragicdeath #youthloss #darktragedy #justiceforfriends  Part 2 of “The Tragic Night in Ecuador” continues uncovering the investigation into the murder of three young friends. This chapter focuses on the search for suspects, the shocking details revealed by witnesses, and the community’s grief. It highlights how dreams were destroyed in an instant and the fight to bring the perpetrators to justice.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, truecrime, tragicdeath, youthloss, darktragedy, justiceforfriends, shockingcrime, realcrime, investigationupdate, victimsstory, violentact, communitygrief, pursuitofjustice, crimeuncovered, trueevent

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That's gofundme.com. Gofundme.com. Santo Domingo, the aftermath of a tragedy. When tragedy strikes, families cling to hope for as long as they can. In those days of early April, after the sudden disappearance of three young women, Giuliana Macias, Nilei Tapia, and Denise Raina, their relatives desperately wanted to believe the story would have a different ending. They hoped the girls would be found alive, maybe scared or hurt, but breathing.

They prayed they'd just walk through the front door like they'd. always did after a night out. But reality can be cruel. And in this case, reality was far darker than anyone could have imagined. Facing the morgue. The family's hopes ended in the cold halls of the local morgue. It's one of those places no family ever wants to enter, a place that smells of chemicals and despair. For Juliana's aunt Paulina, walking into that space meant facing her worst nightmare. She was there for every form, every signature, every bureaucratic step required to recover Julianna's body.

Paulina later shared that Julianna's face was already badly decomposed, so much so that visual recognition was nearly impossible. The family had to identify her by the shape and details of her toes. Imagine that. Having to look at someone's feet to confirm she was your niece, your friend, your daughter. it's the kind of thing that leaves a scar on the soul at the morgue the relatives of all three girls gathered they sat in small groups whispering comparing notes about what they each knew about the night of april fourth everybody had a piece of the puzzle a text message a location pin a phone call a strange silence and as they pieced these scraps together a chilling possibility began to take shape that maybe the girls have been exposed to some kind of chemical or substance meant to speed up decomposition. A strange theory.

The families were convinced. They had heard whispers, seen the bodies, and some believed that an acid or corrosive liquid had been poured over the young women before burial. That could explain why Juliana's face looked the way it did. But when reporters asked the authorities about it, the officials clammed up. One spokesperson said they wouldn't comment, those details were part of a reserved case file. Another authority dismissed the idea, suggesting it was just speculation from grieving relatives. Still, the theory stuck.

Because there was something strange about how quickly decomposition had set in. And for the families, silence from the officials only fueled suspicion. Meanwhile, a police officer let slip a few additional. details. The girls had been found tied up, their mouths covered. They weren't wearing heavy clothes. Instead, they had on beachwear, bathing suits, light shorts, simple tops. It was confirmation of what many feared, the girls were taken while expecting a night of fun at the beach, not prepared for the nightmare that awaited them. Shockwaves through society As soon as news of the murders spread, Ecuador reacted like a country struck by lightning.

On social media, timelines filled with black ribbons, prayers, photos of the smiling girls, and furious demands for justice. People were angry, heartbroken, and terrified. How could this happen? Why them? Who is safe anymore? Messages poured in not just from Santo Domingo, but from all over Ecuador and even abroad. The murders had become a national conversation. Strangers grieved as if they'd known the girls personally. And in a way, everyone did, because Juliana, Niali, and Denise represented the everyday daughters,

sisters, and friends of the nation. At the same time, the families were raising their voices louder and louder. They weren't just asking politely. They were demanding, find the kill. killers. Don't let this go unpunished. What the autopsies revealed. For days, there was nothing but rumors. People speculated endlessly, poison, suffocation, drugs, even drowning. But eventually, the forensic reports came in, and the truth was both simple and horrifying. The girls had died from deep cuts across their necks, inflicted with sharp weapons, most likely machetes.

It wasn't quick, and it wasn't merciful. On top of that, their bodies showed clear evidence of torture before death. There it was in black and white, a brutal, calculated triple murder. April 9th, the funerals. Five days after the discovery, on April 9th, the city of Santo Domingo fell into morning. The funerals of the three young women drew crowds larger than anyone expected. Streets filled with people holding flowers, balloons, and photos. Inside the ceremonies, family and friends spoke of the girls' talents, their dreams, and the joy they had brought into every room. Juliana was remembered for her voice and charisma, Naili for her motherly warmth and modeling dreams, and Denise for her kindness and love for animals. But amid the tears and embraces, something unsettling happened.

A threat at the funeral. Paulina, Juliana's aunt, later went public with a chilling claim. During the funeral itself, as mourners were filing past the caskets, a man approached her. He was wearing a cap pulled low and a face mask. He leaned in close and whispered something that froze her blood. Stop digging. Stop asking questions. Remember, you have daughters. And then, before she could react, he slipped back into the crowd and vanished. Polina was shaken. Her hands trembled as she

replayed the words in her mind. It wasn't just a warning, it was a threat. The message was clear, back off, or your family could be next. The other families, those of Niali and Denise, were terrified when they heard. For days, they refused to speak to reporters. They stayed quiet, fearing the same shadowy people who had murdered their daughters might come for them too. But Paulina wasn't the type to stay silent. Paulina fights back. Instead of retreating, Paulina did the opposite. She became louder, more vocal. She gave interviews, marched in protest. and demanded protection from the state. She asked Ecuador's Attorney General's office

to place her and other relatives in the witness protection program. Police promised to provide accompaniment, and the prosecutor's office said they'd consider the request. But in practice, nothing really happened. No permanent protection, no program enrollment. Polina was left exposed,

her face on TV, her name in newspapers, and her enemies watching from the shadows. But she refused to be silenced. Breaking the silence. Eventually, the families of Nilelli and Denise also broke their silence. Fear gave way to anger, and they sat down with a local news outlet to tell their side of the story. They described the girls' personalities, their ambitions, their kindness. They wanted the world to know they weren't just victims, but whole people who were.

whose lives had been stolen. They also revealed something crucial, they had no idea who the friends were that the girls were supposed to meet that night. Whoever those people were, they weren't part of the family's circle. This deepened the mystery, who had lured the girls out, and why.

The family's main message was simple, we want justice. And if anyone out there knows something, please come forward. Rumors and speculations. But as often happens, the absence of answers fueled speculation. Social media became a battlefield of rumors. One particularly harmful theory suggested that the girls were somehow involved with drug traffickers.

Paulina immediately called out this narrative, insisting it was nonsense. She begged people to stop spreading baseless claims that only tarnished the girls' reputations and distracted from the real investigation. But the damage was already being done. False information spreads faster than truth online, and the case was no exception. The Roberto Zambrano Incident At one point, a video went viral showing Juliana singing at a bar alongside a man named Roberto Zambrano. Online gossipers quickly tied this man to the murders, claiming the video had been filmed hours before the crime. But Roberto himself came forward angrily.

He explained that the video had been recorded weeks earlier, at his birthday celebration. He had nothing to do with the murders. And yet, because of the viral rumors, his personal and professional life had been turned upside down. People avoided him, his reputation was damaged, and his family was dragged into the chaos. Roberto even considered suing for defamation. polina backed him up confirming the video was old and unrelated she pointed out how damaging false accusations could be not just for innocent people but also for the families seeking real answers a maze of rumors and roberto's case wasn't the only rumor dozens of other unverified leads popped up on social media strangers claiming they knew what happened photos of random people labeled as suspect and dramatic theories with no evidence.

Most were debunked, others simply faded away. But each rumor added confusion and noise to the investigation, making it harder to focus on hard evidence. Tracking the car. Amid the chaos, investigators pressed forward. Eventually, they uncovered a breakthrough, the car used to pick up the girls had been rented. That detail was huge.

Rental cars have GPS tracking systems. By accessing the data, authorities could trace the exact route the vehicle took the night of April 4th, step by step, they could reconstruct where Giuliana, Niali and Denise had been driven before they were attacked. It was a starting point. A thread to pull. A chance to turn the tide of the investigation. The bigger picture.

By now, the story had grown beyond three young women. It was about the state of violence in Ecuador, about the vulnerability of women, about organized crime creeping into daily life. People were angry not just because of what had happened, but because they knew it could happen again. The funerals had been heartbreaking, the threats terrifying, the rumors frustrating. But through it all, one thing remained constant, the determination of the families, especially to demand answers. And while the investigation continued, the country waited. Everyone wanted to know who rented that car.

Who was inside? Who silenced three bright futures. Shadows over Santo Domingo, Part 2 The atmosphere in Ecuador. To really understand the weight of what happened, you've got to picture Ecuador in those days. It wasn't just about three murders, it was about the bigger storm the country was in. Crime rates had been climbing. Gang rivalries were spilling into neighborhoods that used to feel safe.

Headlines screamed about shootings, kidnappings, extortions. People joked nervously about La Insecuridad every time they left home, but beneath the jokes was a real fear. For women, the fear was doubled. of femicides, murders of women because of their gender, had become disturbingly common. March filled city streets every year on March 8th, International Women's Day, with signs reading N. I. Unaminos, not one less. Everyone knew the statistics. Everyone knew someone who had been harassed, attacked, or worse. So when Juliana, Niali and Denise were found dead, tied up, tortured,

discarded, it wasn't just a tragedy for their families. It was like a mirror held up to the entire country, showing how vulnerable women were in a society where violence had become normalized. Following the GPS trail. Let's go back to the investigation. The car. Authorities discovered that the vehicle used to transport the girls wasn't owned by a suspect, it was a rental car. That detail alone shifted. everything. A rental meant contracts, IDs, surveillance cameras at the rental office, payment records. Whoever had signed for that car had left a paper trail. And then there was the GPS system. Modern rentals usually come equipped with trackers,

partly for security, partly so the company can charge you if you take the car too far off route. When investigators pulled the GPS log, they could see the exact journey the car had taken. Think about that, a digital breadcrumb trail of the girl's final hours. The route data reportedly showed where the car stopped, how long it stayed parked, where it turned. Each ping was a clue. For investigators, it was like watching a grim movie play out on a map. The hope was that the GPS would lead them not just to where the bodies have been dumped, but to safe houses, meeting points, or even accomplices connected to the crime.

But, of course, investigators were careful not to reveal too much publicly. Every time they spoke to the media, they gave vague answers, saying the case was under analysis or progressing. For families desperate for clarity, that silence was agonizing. The families in mourning. Meanwhile, the families were left to pick up the pieces. isn't just about crying and being sad, it's messy, exhausting, and full of contradictions. Some mornings, Helena said she woke up ready to fight the whole system, demanding justice

at the top of her lungs. Other mornings, she could barely get out of bed. Naili's mother reportedly couldn't bring herself to go into her daughter's room. The smell of her perfume, the clothes hanging in the closet, the notebooks on her desk, it was too much. She would stand in the doorway, frozen, as if stepping inside would make the loss more real. Denise's family leaned on faith. They organized rosaries, lit candles every night, and told themselves God would reveal the truth in time.

But even faith was tested. Because how could any divine plan explain such cruelty? Grief also had a financial side. Funerals are expensive. Processes are expensive. Traveling back and forth to police stations, morgues, and courts costs money. Some relatives had to miss work. Some borrowed money from friends. Justice, as noble as it sounds, comes with a price tag. The Media Circus As the investigation crawled forward, the media swarmed. TV channels sent reporters to Santo Domingo, standing in front of cemeteries and police stations with microphones in hand. Headlines used words like atrocity, nightmare, and horror.

Talk shows invited experts to speculate about motives. But not all coverage was helpful. Some reporters cared more about sensationalism than truth. They asked insensitive questions, shoved cameras into grieving mother's faces, or spread unverified rumors just to boost ratings. And then there was social media. Facebook pages, WhatsApp chains, TikTok videos, all filled with amateur detectives who thought they had solved the case. Some said the girls had been at the wrong party.

Others claimed it was revenge from gangs. Others whispered about jealous ex-boyfriends. Most of it was baseless, but it stuck. Rumors are like weeds, once they're planted, they spread. fast, choking out the real evidence. Paulina v. The Rumors Paulina, once again, became the loudest voice pushing back. She gave interview after interview, reminding the public that Juliana and her friends

weren't criminals, weren't involved in drugs, weren't living double lives. They were just normal young women who went out for a fun night and never came back. She begged people to stop spreading theories that the girls were somehow to blame for their own deaths. Victim blaming was salt in the wound. But even Paulina knew she was fighting an uphill battle. People love gossip. Lies are juicier than facts. And once the internet grabs onto a story, it's almost impossible to control.

Fear in the Air Beyond the Families, Ordinary people in Santo Domingo started feeling uneasy. Parents began telling their daughters not to go out at night. Bars and clubs saw fewer customers. Taxi drivers noticed women were more cautious about getting into cars. The murders had poisoned the atmosphere. Suddenly, danger felt closer than ever.

If this could happen to Juliana, Nijeli, and Denise, it could happen to anyone. Some activists organized small marches, holding signs demanding justice and safety for women. Others lit candles in silent vigils. The names of the three girls became symbols, rallying cries in conversations about violence and insecurity. Investigators under pressure For the police, the pressure was immense. Every day that passed without an arrest made the public more restless. Officials promised significant progress, but concrete results were scarce.

Behind the scenes, detectives were juggling multiple leads. The GPS trail, the rental car company, phone records, witness statements. Each clue led to another question, another suspect, another dead end. Some investigators believed organized crime was involved. Others thought it was a personal vendetta. Still others suspected it was a mixture, personal conflicts that spilled into the orbit of gangs. Whatever the case, the brutality of the murder suggested something more than a random attack. This was deliberate, planned, and meant to send a message.

Living with fear The threat Paulina received at the funeral wasn't the only one. Quietly, other relatives reported strange phone calls, people loitering near their houses, cars slowing down as they walked down the street. Whether these were real threats or just paranoia amplified by grief didn't matter. The fear was real. Every knock at the door made their hearts jump. Every unknown number on the phone made their stomach's twist.

And through it all, they had to keep reliving the details of the crime. Each time they gave a statement, each time they talked to a reporter, each time they prayed in front of the girls' photos. Grief was never-ending, because the case was never-ending. Broader conversations. In Ecuador, the tragedy sparked bigger conversations. Politicians weighed in, promising reforms, more police, tougher penalties. Feminist groups used the case as proof of how urgently the country needed better protections for women.

Some cynics, though, said the sudden attention was temporary, that the outrage would fade until the next tragedy came along. Sadly, in Latin America, that cycle is all too common. A murder shocks the nation, hashtag's trend, marches happen, and then life goes on. Until the next name makes headlines. Paulina, however, wasn't going to let her niece's name be forgotten. She made it her mission to keep Juliana, Nyelli, and Denise alive in people's minds. Toward Justice The rental car clue was just the beginning. Authorities hinted that they were closing in on suspects, though they refused to release details.

Rumors swirled about possible arrests, about links to known criminals, about betrayals within circles of trust. For the families, it was torture. They wanted transparency. but they also wanted results. They wanted to know, but they also feared what they might learn. The truth was coming, slowly, painfully, but surely. The weight of Femicide

In Latin America, Femmicide is more than a crime. It's a wound that cuts across generations. Every time a woman is murdered, it reminds people of all the other women whose lives were stolen before. names stack up like bricks in a wall of grief. For Juliana, Niali, and Denise, their deaths weren't isolated. They became part of a list no one wants to be on. And that fact carried symbolic weight. Activists painted their names on banners.

University students held moments of silence. Their faces appeared on murals. It's a strange kind of immortality, being remembered. not for what you did in life, but for the violence that ended it. But for many families, it's also a way of ensuring the victims aren't erased. What justice meant? When the families said they wanted justice, they meant more than just arrests. They wanted accountability.

They wanted trials, sentences, real punishment. They wanted the killers to look them in the eye and know they hadn't destroyed everything. But Justice also meant recognition. They wanted the government to acknowledge the girls weren't just statistics. They wanted the world to remember their laughter, their dreams, their humanity. For Paulina especially, Justice meant making sure no other aunt, no other mother, had to stand in a morgue identifying their loved one by their toes. Legacy of the Girls

In the weeks that followed, friends and relatives shared stories. of the girls online. Videos of Juliana singing. Photos of Naili posing with her modeling outfits. Posts about Denise rescuing stray dogs. Little by little, these memories pushed back against the horror. They reminded people that these weren't just victims. They were artists, dreamers, daughters, friends.

That's the paradox of tragedy. Even in death, the girls inspired. people to speak out, to demand safety, to value life. The long road ahead. The investigation would take time. The families knew that. But they also knew they couldn't stop pushing, couldn't let the case fade into the background noise of a violent country.

They carried on with heavy hearts, living in fear but refusing to be silent. They knew the killers were out there. They knew threats were real. But silence would be worse. For Paulina, Niali's mother, Denise's father, and all the others, life was now divided into two chapters, before April 4th, and after. And in that, after, justice was the only thing worth holding on to. To be continued.