Juan Manuel Fraire Escobedo
Self - Son Of Marisela Escobedo

After the death of her daughter at the hand of her boyfriend, Marisela Escobedo began to fight for justice not only against the murderer but also against the corrupt Mexican judicial system.
I keep thinking about the way Marisela Escobedo’s hands move in that courtroom footage. Not the moment she learns her daughter’s killer has been acquitted—that’s the part everyone talks about, the raw, animal howl that seems to tear the screen open. No, it’s the seconds before, when she’s still seated, still believing the system might actually work.
Her fingers tap lightly against the wooden bench, a quiet drumbeat of anticipation. Then the verdict comes. Her hands freeze mid-air, as if the shock has short-circuited her nervous system.
For a beat, she doesn’t even breathe. And then—only then—does the scream come, a sound so primal it doesn’t feel like acting, because of course it isn’t. It’s the sound of a mother realizing the state has just become her daughter’s second murderer.

Carlos Pérez Osorio’s The Three Deaths of Marisela Escobedo isn’t just a documentary about a murder. It’s a film about the way institutions kill slowly, by inches, through bureaucracy and indifference. The title refers to the three times Marisela is said to have died: first when her daughter Rubí is murdered in 2008, then when the Mexican justice system fails to convict her killer, and finally when Marisela herself is gunned down in 2010 while protesting outside the Government Palace in Chihuahua.
But the film suggests a fourth death, too—the death of truth itself, buried under layers of official obfuscation and half-hearted investigations.
Pérez Osorio, who previously directed the Netflix series Taco Chronicles, approaches this material with a journalist’s rigor and a storyteller’s eye for the visceral. The film is structured like a procedural, but one where the detective is a grieving mother and the clues are scattered across years of legal filings, news footage, and home videos. There’s no voiceover, no omniscient narrator guiding us through the labyrinth.
"A harrowing and essential documentary that exposes systemic injustice through one mother’s relentless fight for justice."
The documentary's raw emotional power and unflinching portrayal of Marisela Escobedo’s activism humanize a devastating real-life tragedy. Its unpolished style can feel overwhelming, but its urgency and authenticity outweigh the technical shortcomings.
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The Three Deaths of Marisela Escobedo (2020) isn’t just a documentary—it’s a reckoning. Directed by Carlos Pérez Osorio, the film chronicles the harrowing fight of Marisela Escobedo Ortiz, a mother turned activist after her 16-year-old daughter, Rubí Frayre Escobedo, was murdered in 2008. The killer? Rubí’s boyfriend, Sergio Barraza, who confessed to dismembering her body and burning the remains. But the story doesn’t end with his confession. Instead, it spirals into a nightmare of institutional failure, corruption, and ultimately, latestnetflix.com argues, Marisela’s own assassination—three "deaths" that expose Mexico’s broken justice system.
The documentary’s power lies in its raw, unfiltered access. Pérez Osorio doesn’t just recount Marisela’s story—he immerses viewers in it. The film follows her relentless pursuit of justice, from tracking down Barraza (who was initially acquitted despite his confession) to staging protests outside government buildings. The camera lingers on Marisela’s grief, her rage, and her refusal to back down, even as threats against her escalate.
What’s striking is how the film blurs the line between activism and cinema. Marisela wasn’t just a subject; she was a collaborator in exposing the truth. The documentary’s footage includes her final moments—she was gunned down in December 2010 while protesting outside the Chihuahua governor’s palace. The killing was caught on security cameras, and the film doesn’t shy away from showing it, turning her death into a chilling indictment of the system she fought against.
Pérez Osorio’s approach is deliberate. In interviews, he and producer Laura Woldenberg have discussed the challenges of balancing sensitivity with urgency. The film doesn’t just document Marisela’s story—it amplifies her voice, using her own recordings, protests, and even her final public appearances. The result is a documentary that feels like a thriller, but with stakes that couldn’t be more real.
The cast is a mix of family members and key figures in the case. Juan Manuel Fraire Escobedo (Marisela’s son) and Blanca Escobedo (her sister) appear prominently, their grief and determination palpable. Legal advocates like Lucha Castro and Patricia González also feature, offering context on the systemic failures that allowed Barraza to walk free—only to later be killed in a shootout with police.
The Three Deaths of Marisela Escobedo isn’t just a true-crime story; it’s a call to action. The documentary’s release reignited outrage over femicide in Mexico, where thousands of women are murdered annually with near-total impunity. Marisela’s case became a symbol of the country’s broader crisis, and the film ensures her fight isn’t forgotten.
Yet, for all its impact, the documentary leaves some questions unanswered. Why was Barraza acquitted despite his confession? Who ordered Marisela’s murder? The film doesn’t provide easy answers, but it doesn’t need to—the gaps in the story are part of the horror.
Years after its release, The Three Deaths of Marisela Escobedo remains a vital piece of investigative filmmaking. It’s a sign of the power of documentary to hold power to account—and a reminder of how high the cost of justice can be.
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