When we talk about justice, it’s tempting to think first of courtrooms, judges, and laws. But for many Colombians, especially the families of victims of falsos positivos, justice has been built not only in tribunals but in memory itself: in the photos carried to marches, the murals painted in neighborhoods, the names shouted at demonstrations, the rituals performed year after year so that forgetting is impossible.
Between 2002 and 2010, thousands of young men — mostly poor, often from rural or marginalized communities — were killed by members of Colombia’s military and falsely presented as guerrillas killed in combat. These extrajudicial executions, known as falsos positivos, were incentivized by a warped system that rewarded body counts with promotions, money, and leave time.
For the families of the deceased, the pain was double: they suffered not only the violent death of their children, brothers, or fathers, but also the stigma of being told these dead loved ones were “terrorists.” For decades, official narratives denied their innocence. In response, parents, siblings, and loved ones took on the role of guardians of memory.
Today, as Colombia’s Special Jurisdiction for Peace (JEP) finally begins to hand down historic rulings against perpetrators, the country is reminded that these families’ insistence on remembrance is what made justice possible at all.
Memory as Resistance
In Colombia, the act of remembering has often been a political gesture. For mothers who lost their sons to falsos positivos, memory is more than grief: it is resistance against erasure.
One of the most emblematic groups is the Mothers of Soacha (Madres de Soacha). In 2008, dozens of women discovered their sons had been lured from Bogotá’s outskirts with promises of work, only to be killed hundreds of miles away and buried as guerrillas. For them, memory became a form of activism:
Photographs at protests: They carried enlarged portraits of their sons to public squares, confronting officials and society with faces that proved they were not anonymous guerrillas but young men with families, lives, and dreams.
Annual commemorations: Every year, they gather to honor the date of disappearance or death, keeping the stories alive in the community.
Murals and art: Walls in Soacha and beyond carry painted faces of the murdered youth, transforming public space into testimony.
The Weight of Stigma
For families, memory is not only about honoring loved ones but also about countering stigma. Many recall being told by neighbors, even relatives, that their sons must have been guerrillas — why else would the army say so? The official record branded them criminals, compounding the loss with shame.
By publicly naming them, retelling their stories, and refusing silence, families reclaimed dignity. Memory became a way of restoring the humanity stripped away by both the bullets and the lies.
In that sense, memorialization is not passive. It is an active form of justice: refusing the false narrative, demanding truth, and forcing institutions to confront uncomfortable realities.
From Memory to Justice: Recent Developments
The persistence of families has borne fruit. This September (2025), the JEP issued its first substantive ruling on falsos positivos. Twelve ex-military officers from the Batallón La Popa were held responsible for 135 killings between 2002 and 2005. Instead of prison, their sentences include restorative projects: building memorials, contributing to truth-telling initiatives, and reparations.
For many families, the ruling is bittersweet. On one hand, it is the first time the state has officially recognized that their loved ones were not guerrillas but civilians murdered under a policy of deception. On the other, some feel restorative sanctions are insufficient for crimes of this magnitude.
Yet, what is undeniable is this: without the relentless work of victims’ families, there would be no case, no ruling, no justice at all. Their memory work forced the truth into public view, long before courts were willing to listen.
Memory Across Generations
Memorialization also has a temporal dimension. Parents age; siblings pass the torch. Children who never met their uncles now grow up seeing their faces in photos at family homes. Some youth groups have joined mothers in painting murals or organizing cultural events to keep the memory alive.
This intergenerational transmission matters. It means falsos positivos are not confined to dusty files or occasional headlines; they remain part of Colombia’s living social fabric. Memory ensures continuity, so history cannot be rewritten by official silence.
The Global Echo
Colombia is not alone in this. Around the world, victims’ families have taken up memorialization as a path to justice:
- In Argentina, the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo turned the memory of disappeared children into a global symbol of resistance.
- In Mexico, families of disappeared students and migrants march with photos, demanding answers in a country where mass graves are tragically common.
- In Bosnia and Rwanda, memorial sites ensure that massacres are not erased by denialist narratives.
These movements share a belief: memory is part of justice when justice is delayed.
The Fragility of Memory
Yet memory is fragile. Murals are painted over. Political shifts can reduce funding for memorial projects. Denialist narratives re-emerge. Even now, some Colombian politicians downplay the scale of falsos positivos or frame them as “errors” of war rather than systematic crimes.
This is why the work of families remains so urgent. Their voices remind us that memory cannot be outsourced to institutions alone. It lives in communities, in stories told around dinner tables, in names recited at vigils.
A Country Still Healing
Colombia’s 2016 Peace Accord promised both truth and justice. The JEP was born to address atrocities like falsos positivos. Its rulings — like the one in September — are milestones. But healing requires more than verdicts.
It requires listening to families, supporting memorialization efforts, and integrating their memory work into the nation’s broader historical narrative. Museums, school curricula, public memorials, and state apologies can all help ensure that the falsos positivos are never repeated and never forgotten—and to that end, some rulings have ordered soldiers and officers to participate in community memorial projects, recognizing memory as a necessary path toward reconciliation.
Memory as Our Responsibility
The parents and relatives of falsos positivos victims have shown extraordinary courage. They remind us that memory is not just about the past, it is about shaping the present and protecting the future.
By carrying photos, painting murals, and speaking truth, they have forced Colombia, and the world, to confront a reality that many preferred to ignore. Their work demonstrates that justice is not only legal but also cultural and emotional.
A Call to Remember
As readers, we too have a role. We can support memorialization efforts, share victims’ stories, and resist denialist narratives. If you are in Colombia, visit a memorial site, attend a commemoration, or learn the names of the victims in your region. If you are outside of Colombia, read about the Mothers of Soacha, amplify their voices, and connect their struggle with global movements for truth and justice.
Because in the end, forgetting is complicity. And memory — stubborn, painful, luminous memory — is the first step toward dignity, accountability, and peace.
