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There were supporters of nearly every party in the country. They started the electricity, the shocks, on my wrists, then my toes, then my breasts, then different places. "While I was in jail I had to block it out, the torture.For her part, Veronica's political interests were mainly in feminist and union issues. They started the 'submarine,' which is a long tub filled with water and excrement. They ask something, and if you don't answer it, they push you under. Once, one of them asked me, 'Do you want a cigarette? You have to search for something to keep you alive in there.

The anger inside could make him sarcastic, lonely, cynical and mean.

His father Ramon had left the family when Rodrigo was less than 2 years old, and he had no memory at all of him. After a long flight to Peru and an endless bus ride from Lima, Rodrigo arrived at the Santiago bus station with his camera bag, a suitcase and $ 200. Within a week a 19-year-old student at the Santiago Institute named Ronald Wood was killed. Wood's funeral, on May 25, drew more than 5,000 mourners and demonstrators.

There were other relatives to see, as well -- aunts, grandparents, cousins he had never met. Rodrigo saw himself as a photojournalist, and more than anything he wanted a real "bang-bang" story -- machine guns, soldiers, despair in the shantytowns, obliviousness in the palace. But Montecino, whose only brother, also a photographer, had been killed in the first days of the coup, urged Rodrigo to go somewhere else for the summer. Wood had been waiting for a bus near the law school. Wood's funeral was Rodrigo's first real day of "bang-bang." With his Nikons he recorded it all -- the casket heaped with flowers, two women in the crowd twisted with grief, the police arriving, the water cannons and the tear gas.

A street demonstration, one of many in Santiago that day, was raging nearby and police were trying to scatter everyone. Those photographs turned out to be the most mature work Rodrigo would ever do. "It was like he was taking pictures of his own funeral," says his mother. Then, witnesses say, a young lieutenant would drench him with gasoline, light him on fire and watch. Mourners came with flowers, candles and signs, many of them seeing this death as an emblem of what Chile had become -- a state under siege with the highest percentage of political exiles in the world.

Six weeks later, caught in the teeth of another protest in another part of the city, Rodrigo himself would be detained by soldiers. The police came to the funeral, too, with water cannons, tear gas and dogs, the usual scene in Santiago.

When Veronica got pregnant in 1967, Ramon was frantic. "Rodrigo grew up hearing politics, politics," Veronica says. When I had the parria I felt like my body was disintegrating, as if my muscles were ripping up into little pieces.

The house was itself a microcosm of Chile's political spectrum. My heart felt like it was growing and my brain felt bigger than my head.

We thought love could solve all our problems." They married secretly in 1966. As Veronica tells it, that last encounter was a horror, one that made Rodrigo seem preternaturally capable of adult rage: "Ramon did not want to kiss Rodrigo. Even without a father around, Rodrigo flourished, living in a rambling house full of aunts and uncles, all of whom were college educated. When he ruined all the locks in the house with a screwdriver, the family was charmed.

But for most of their time together, Veronica and Ramon were apart. That completely separated us, and it was the reason he was never close to Rodrigo. I said, 'Rodrigo, kiss your father.' But Ramon moved back. He began doing nasty things, like throwing a vase of flowers to the floor. When he tried to "open" his grandfather's pocket watch with a hammer, everyone laughed.

Augusto Pinochet's military rule, it seemed the family would never return. He would listen carefully to friends returning to Washington after a summer in Chile, then pepper them with questions.

As an American teen-ager, Rodrigo was obsessed with Chile. Although he lived in Washington for more than a decade, spoke fluent English, cheered perversely against the Redskins and developed a decidedly American passion for electronic gadgets of every sort, Rodrigo felt himself a Chilean. He would photograph as many demonstrations or celebrations having to do with Chile as he could.

He traveled the country for his work at the interior ministry; she remained with her family in Valparaiso. At lunch Rodrigo and Ramon sat across the table from each other and looked at each other like they were in a war. When he ruined 15 umbrellas jumping off fences "learning how to fly," the family made sure his bones were not broken, then praised the boy's ingenuity. It is very terrible, because, the poor animal, you feel it looking for a way out, and it's ripping you. You are tied, hands and feet, to a huge grill which is electrified.

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