Andres Caballero

From Orbit Media, I'm Andres Caballero. This is Avenger, the story of Miriam Lewin. Episode 1, The Process Fast forward three decades to 2010. It's four in the afternoon, the busiest time of day at Canal 13, a national TV channel in Buenos Aires. Miriam sits in her office chair, looking through a big glass window at the cars driving by.

In Argentina, Medium is a well-known investigative journalist. And she's relentless, going after perpetrators of sexual abuse. She's reported from Gaza, Russia, lots of places. Now, she's in the middle of the biggest investigation of her career. Medium looks at her phone. It's a U.S. number. An Argentine reporter calling from Florida, Medium had recently hired him to help her follow up on a tip.

In Argentina, Medium is a well-known investigative journalist. And she's relentless, going after perpetrators of sexual abuse. She's reported from Gaza, Russia, lots of places. Now, she's in the middle of the biggest investigation of her career. Medium looks at her phone. It's a U.S. number. An Argentine reporter calling from Florida, Medium had recently hired him to help her follow up on a tip.

She had sent him to meet the owner of a small plane that maybe had once been used by Argentina's dictatorship to kill hundreds of people. They were tossed out of planes, alive, into the sea. Somehow, the plane ended up in Fort Lauderdale. Medium hoped that it still held clues, evidence of the atrocities.

She had sent him to meet the owner of a small plane that maybe had once been used by Argentina's dictatorship to kill hundreds of people. They were tossed out of planes, alive, into the sea. Somehow, the plane ended up in Fort Lauderdale. Medium hoped that it still held clues, evidence of the atrocities.

On the phone, the reporter confirms it's the right plane.

On the phone, the reporter confirms it's the right plane.

I spent a lot of my childhood in Argentina. In the early 90s, at my grandfather's repair shop, behind our house. It was a middle-class suburb of Buenos Aires, and every morning I would wake up to Radio Colonia, my grandfather's favorite station. Inside his repair shop, the floors and shelves were stacked with old radios, tools, and countless broken televisions.

I spent a lot of my childhood in Argentina. In the early 90s, at my grandfather's repair shop, behind our house. It was a middle-class suburb of Buenos Aires, and every morning I would wake up to Radio Colonia, my grandfather's favorite station. Inside his repair shop, the floors and shelves were stacked with old radios, tools, and countless broken televisions.

One day, he decided I was old enough to hear about the death flights. He told me how only about a decade earlier, thousands of people had been kidnapped, loaded into airplanes, and thrown into the ocean. I was barely nine at the time. We lived several blocks from the shore. I could picture the planes above the water, bodies free-falling.

One day, he decided I was old enough to hear about the death flights. He told me how only about a decade earlier, thousands of people had been kidnapped, loaded into airplanes, and thrown into the ocean. I was barely nine at the time. We lived several blocks from the shore. I could picture the planes above the water, bodies free-falling.

I had a lot of questions, but my grandfather didn't have answers. This was in the 90s, and many Argentines were still searching for answers about loved ones who had gone missing. Mothers, fathers were still mourning, in fear and in silence. It seemed at times that Argentina, the entire country, was looking away, intent on burying the ghosts of the past.

I had a lot of questions, but my grandfather didn't have answers. This was in the 90s, and many Argentines were still searching for answers about loved ones who had gone missing. Mothers, fathers were still mourning, in fear and in silence. It seemed at times that Argentina, the entire country, was looking away, intent on burying the ghosts of the past.

For a long time, journalist Miriam Lewin wanted to bury them too. For good reason. She'd been one of the disappeared. Better to forget years of captivity, of torture. Then, one day, an annoying, rude, incredibly persistent Italian photojournalist entered her life, asking lots of uncomfortable questions.

For a long time, journalist Miriam Lewin wanted to bury them too. For good reason. She'd been one of the disappeared. Better to forget years of captivity, of torture. Then, one day, an annoying, rude, incredibly persistent Italian photojournalist entered her life, asking lots of uncomfortable questions.

Theirs would be an unlikely alliance, but together they set out to bring justice to the victims of the vuelos de la muerte, the death flights. It would prove to be the investigation of a lifetime. The investigation would also become crucial in my search for answers. How did an entire country allow this to happen? Was there, will there ever be justice?

Theirs would be an unlikely alliance, but together they set out to bring justice to the victims of the vuelos de la muerte, the death flights. It would prove to be the investigation of a lifetime. The investigation would also become crucial in my search for answers. How did an entire country allow this to happen? Was there, will there ever be justice?

Where were the pilots who flew the death flights? In 2007, Giancarlo Seraudo is living in Buenos Aires. He's the annoying Italian photojournalist who gets in touch with Medium. He invites her to a cafe to take some photos.

Where were the pilots who flew the death flights? In 2007, Giancarlo Seraudo is living in Buenos Aires. He's the annoying Italian photojournalist who gets in touch with Medium. He invites her to a cafe to take some photos.

In his 30s, Giancarlo is a bit of a nomad. He's been all over the world, telling stories, taking photos, fulfilling his obsession to document the scars left by fascist governments. Recently, he traveled from Italy to Argentina on a mission. He's become obsessed with the death flights. He's heard about Medium and decided he needs her.