After the murder, and after my husband died, I decided to keep to myself because I was very saddened by the murder of Santiago Nasar; I just wish that somehow he could have been warned and this could have been prevented. But within this small town, news got out fast that Father Carmen Amador was filling in for Dr. Dionisio Iguaran in performing the autopsy on Santiago. After investigating the several wounds we learned that seven of them were fatal, and he died from a massive hemorrhage brought on by one of these wounds. Santiago’s scent and aroma lingered long after his death, the Vicario brothers could smell it while sitting in their cell, Angela couldn’t escape it, and even I smelt him in my store. The brothers believed that they had proven their status as men by killing Santiago, and all that was left of him was the memory of a victim. This was when the narrator returned to the town in 1981, twenty years after the murder, and interviewed many of us in hopes of finding the different roles that were played in his death. 

Before 7:05am I heard the shouts, and the news about his brutal death. Although I knew, like everyone else, I was too late. No one warned Santiago soon enough, and before we knew it he was being attacked and stabbed from every angle by Pedro and Pablo. 

Santiago walked into his mother’s kitchen, where breakfast had just been served at 7:00am, holding his intestines and bleeding all over the floor. Everyone was overwhelmed with fright, but Santiago’s face remained calm as entered the kitchen and laid face down on the floor.

At 7:05am Santiago Nasar was pronounced dead.

The morning of Santiago Nasar’s death, before 7:05am, I was working in my store, which happened to be the only place open on the square. Pedro and Pablo were waiting for Santiago here, in order to kill him. I was the first to see him in the glow of dawn and he appeared to be dressed in aluminum—looking like a ghost.

Later told my husband about this, and tried to tell everyone I saw to warn him all day. I kept the bar open through the night after the wedding, because of the customers, and watched the brothers wait on the benches outside with knifes wrapped up newspapers.

I saw Santiago walking towards the store, and shouted to him to run but it didn’t work. As he was walking towards my store, where the brothers were waiting, I shouted to Santiago for him to run, but it was such an urgent call that it alarmed him and just confused him even more. Although I knew, like everyone else, I was too late.

I served the Vicario twins alcohol, and listen to them talk about killing Santiago. At 4:10am the Vicario brothers came in and I sold them a bottle of cane liquor, which they finished, because not only did I have such a high regard for them, but they also brought me a piece of the wedding cake. As I passed Pedro and Pablo sleeping on the benches outside my store, I held my breath to try not to wake them as I saw their hands clutching knifes, wrapped in newspapers, to their chests. I was upset when I saw the two men get up as Santiago appeared; they should have left him for later to respect the bishop. They were looking at him with pity—it was a providential happening, and breath of the Holy Spirit.

I woke up at 3:30am to open my store. On the day of this murder, it was a normal day for me. I had switched out my husband behind the bar, because at 3:30am we would open it for milk at dawn and provisions throughout the day, and after 6:00pm it became a bar. That particular night there were so many stray customers from the wedding, the bar didn’t even close until after 3:00am.