“My brother was born on 12 March 1995 in a city of Bié, south of Angola. He was a cheerful child, loved nature, and enjoyed climbing trees, gathering their fruit and bringing them to others. He had been lively and active since he was a child and had started to work. At the age of 15 he had started to reach his objectives. Not wanting to weigh on his parents, he started working as an assistant bricklayer, and then at 16, as a motorcycle and bicycle mechanic. He dreamt of becoming a doctor to help people, like our dad. Yes, this story is about my brother. Two years ago, he went to the sea with three of his friends. On their way home they were surprised by some policemen. In those days there was a big tension in the city, and a lot of violence. To prevent it, the police had set a curfew: all those who were out and about after 6 pm were arrested. It was a way of frightening criminals and assuring the population. Most of the people, however, had not been informed of this decision, and it was the first curfew day. Among these were my brother and his friend, who found themselves simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. My brother, mistaken for a criminal, was arrested. Time passed and he had not returned home. Anguished we went to search for him everywhere: in the house of our relatives, hospitals, prisons, and at the beach where he had gone. But nobody had any clue as to my brother’s whereabouts. In the end, an uncle proposed looking in the last place we would have ever wanted to go: the orbituary. His body was there. He was only 20 and with all the future before him. It was a really difficult moment, an immense suffering for our family. From the signs on his body it was clear that the policemen had been very cruel and he had suffered greatly before dying. This tragedy provoked a deep crisis, especially in my father. He had chosen to work to save human lives, and now before him was the drama of a son he was unable to help…. I knew the spirituality of the Focolare Movement for a long time, and tried to put the Gospel into practice. In giving myself to the others I had found my fulfillment, but with my brother’s death, a sentiment of hatred grew in me towards the policemen who had done this atrocity. The pain dug an unbridgeable void deep inside me. It was a long internal trial: in the depth of my heart, in fact, I wanted to start a process towards forgiveness. It wasn’t easy. Only God could fill this void and make my heart capable of mercy. In this path, the love of the Focolare community in my city was fundamental. I felt loved, welcomed and helped by all. I thus found the strength within me to make this choice. I have rediscovered the gift of peace, by building it firstly inside me, up to the point of looking at every policeman with my eyes and heart full of mercy.”