Patria

What do we tell her?

Ma'am, that's it for today.

Your time's up.

Okay, my love, cheer up.

And don't forget.

I'll be back next month. Maybe sooner.

You know, if your sister's well.

Don't talk to that crazy woman, Mom.

Promise me. Not a word.

No, of course not.

If she wants information,

she can read the trial paperwork.

Forget about her.

Agur, Mom - Agur, my love.

Bye.

Agur. Agur, agur.

Bye.

Cheer up.

Doors.

Aupa, Miren.

Okay, my friends,

we're heading back to the Basque Country.

We've got a long trip ahead of us

and the roads are not that safe.

It's over 1,000 kilometers long.

We are now leaving our sons, brothers or fathers here,

far away from their land,

because of the dispersal policy of the Spanish government.

Thank you all for joining us.

They won't forget you for tha,

and we won't forget them either.

Open up!

Open the door!

- Joxian! - What?

I'm sure it's about Joxe Mari.

Come on, open up!

Open the door!

Open up now!

Open the door, Mom.

Open the door or I'll break it!

House search!

- Go inside. Move! - Let's go.

- You stay there. - Stay there and don't move.

- Stay here. - Coming through.

I said stay there and don't move.

Joxe Maria Garmendia's room.

Where is it?

Clear!

Clear!

My son doesn't live here.

Your son does live here,

and we know we're gonna find hidden guns.

He doesn't live here.

Either you tell me where his room is

or I'll turn your house upside down.

Over here.

Real smart.

We're gonna find him sooner or later.

Then we'll teach him a lesson.

You the terrorist brother?

What's your name?

Gorka.

Wait outside.

Don't touch anything on your way out.

Come fucking on.

Are you cold? Want the robe?

They're gonna destroy our house.

Hello, good evening.

There's nothing here.

Can we sit down?

Go on.

Relax.

Just what we needed,

a dog drooling all over our stuff.

Maybe even shitting and pissing.

- Where you going? - They're probably cold.

Give me that.

Go sit.

Don't worry.

It's okay.

Don't worry.

Shh.

Okay, we're done.

You can go back inside.

The court order...

...so you can wipe your ass with it.

Jesus. What have they done?

They came here looking for Joxe Mari.

They're saying he's a terrorist.

They left my house looking like a dump.

Thank God Bittori helped me.

What were they looking for?

Joxe Mari's things.

Apparently, they were looking for guns,

but they didn't find any,

so they took whatever else they wanted.

Josetxo's really nervous.

He thinks Joxe Mari and Jokin might have joined ETA.

He says we won't be seeing them for a while.

- Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. - I'm telling you.

Patxi from the Arrano came by yesterday

and told Josetxo

that if we have any of Jokin's papers at home,

we should get rid of them.

I mean, it's pretty obvious.

If Patxi knows that,

then wouldn't he know where they are?

What do you think, I didn't ask him?

He wouldn't say.

He just wanted us to throw the papers away

as soon as possible.

- See ya. - Bye.

Tell me the truth,

do you know where Joxe Mari is?

Relax, Miren, calm down.

I am relaxed.

I just wanna know if you know

where my son is and if he's okay.

He's hiding.

Okay, and where exactly?

He doesn't have to go anywhere.

I'll go to him.

Impossible.

Is he in France, then?

Miren, I can't tell you.

It's not like before,

we can't be careful enough.

The GAL people are hunting them down like rabbits.

So, we won't be able to see them?

No.

So then Josetxo was right.

We're never gonna see them again,

not for a thousand years.

Look, Miren, right now

you should be proud, not worried.

There's ways for soldiers and their family

to communicate, use 'em, okay?

Okay, uh, so he can write to us then?

Yeah. And you can write him.

All right.

Patxi, can I send him a package?

It's just that his birthday's coming up,

and, I mean, it'd be nice to send him something.

You said that?

You think Joxe Mari's gone to summer camp or what?

Whatever. What's the big deal?

I gave birth to him, he's my son.

Did you give birth to him?

Anyway, you don't care, so just go to bed.

Again with your goddamn childbirth story.

Well, I was in pain and you were at the bar.

And you don't like me reminding you.

He's my son.

I don't want him to be cold when winter gets here.

Or for him to be sad on his birthday

because he didn't even get a little gift, okay?

So, there, now you're up to speed.

What do you mean up to speed?

We still don't know where he is or what he's doing.

Although it doesn't take much imagination to know either.

No one joins ETA to practice gardening.

We don't know if he's joined ETA!

Listen, maybe he's on his way to Mexico.

And also, if he did it, it's to free the Basque Country.

- By killing? - Ugh.

I shouldn't have said anything.

I didn't raise my son to be a murderer.

Raise?

Who did you raise?

I've never seen you do anything for the kids.

Half your life you're at the bar and the other half on the bike.

Yeah.

And I go to the foundry every day for vacation.

For fuck's sake.

Let go of the doubt and remorse

in your head, Miren.

This fight of ours, mine in my parish,

yours at home taking care of your family.

And Joxe Mari's is the fight of a nation

towards its legitimate dream of deciding its own destiny,

like the fight between David and Goliath.

And Joxe Mari, like so many others,

is doing his part well aware of the consequences,

do you understand?

God wants the good Basques on his side, Miren.

But it's our mission and duty as Christians

to defend our unique identity.

That identity is our culture,

and above all, our language.

Because if it disappears, tell me, Miren,

who will pray to God in Basque?

Who will sing to him in Basque?

I'll answer it myself.

No one.

Do you think Goliath with all his wrath

and his torturers

will do anything in favor of our identity?

They searched your house in the middle of the night,

didn't you feel humiliated?

Don't remind me, Father Serapio,