The Lead Masks Case: Two Men, a Hilltop, and a Note No One Can Explain
The boy had come up Morro do Vintem to fly a kite. It was the afternoon of August 20, 1966, and the hill rising over the Brazilian city of Niteroi, across the bay from Rio de Janeiro, was steep and thick with scrub. Somewhere in the undergrowth the boy found two men lying side by side, partly hidden by the grass, not moving. He went back down and told what he had seen, but the terrain was so difficult that the police and firemen who tried to climb to the spot could not reach it that day. It was only on the following day that anyone stood over the bodies. What they saw there, Brazil has been unable to explain for sixty years.
The dead men were Miguel Jose Viana, thirty-four, and Manoel Pereira da Cruz, thirty-two, electronics technicians from the town of Campos dos Goytacazes, several hours north. Both were dressed in formal suits and new waterproof coats, though the day had been dry and there had been no rain to justify them. And over the eyes of each man, resting on the face, lay a mask crudely cut from solid lead, the kind of gray metal sheet a technician might shape with tin snips. There were no wounds. There were no signs of a struggle. Money was still in their pockets. Two men had lain down on a hilltop, arranged themselves, and died, and nothing on their bodies said how.
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