Episodes

About the Series

My story begins in 1973, when I was a three-year-old child living in a small rural town in Minas Gerais, Brazil. It was a place without television, without computers, without the slightest possibility of exposure to international celebrities or their histories. And yet, at that very young age, I began to speak of a woman named Norma Jeane — a woman who had lived far away, who spoke another language, and whose life had ended long before I was born.

I mentioned names, events and impressions that no child in my circumstances could reasonably have known. My deeply Catholic family reacted with confusion, even fear, while my mother quietly wrote down the things I said. Eventually, she brought me to her uncle, Nestor — a psychologist, a scholar of consciousness, a member of the “Comunhão do Pensamento”, and a friend of Chico Xavier. He was the first adult who truly listened. He recognised that something unusual, something meaningful, was unfolding.

As the years passed — at ages four, five, six — the memories became more detailed. I spoke of friendships, places, and private moments. One of the clearest memories was of Marilyn entrusting a suitcase to a close friend one week before her death. Inside it were documents, diaries, recordings, photographs — things she asked him to safeguard because she felt threatened and intended to retrieve them after moving to a new home. Instead, she died days later.

These memories stayed with me for fifty years: constant, precise, uninvited yet undeniable. As an adult, I eventually succeeded in contacting the family connected to that memory. Over time, and with care, they allowed specialists to examine the items. Their authenticity was confirmed by professionals. For me, it was not a surprise; it was simply the external confirmation of something I had carried within me all my life.

Despite these experiences, I followed a grounded path. I studied medicine, dedicated myself to saving lives, and built a career rooted in service and responsibility. Yet the memories remained — not as a distraction, but as a quiet calling. After decades of silence, I realised that the moment for revelation had arrived. Not for fame, not for spectacle, but because there is a purpose behind everything I remember.

This is not about claiming a name to attract attention. It is a mission — a commitment to truth, dignity, and legacy. So much of Marilyn Monroe’s life has been overshadowed by myths, projections, and simplifications. The soul, however, carries its own light. When people meet me, even if I do not resemble her physically, they often respond to something deeper — an energy, a resonance, a presence that feels familiar to them. It is not the face that speaks, but the spirit.

What I share through this site, through upcoming episodes, and in my personal presence, is the continuation of a story. A story that did not end in 1962. A story that still wishes to shine with sincerity, compassion, and truth.

This is my contribution to honouring who Marilyn really was — and to fulfilling the purpose these memories have carried for so long.

For many decades, her story was told by others — interpreted, imagined, reshaped. Now, it is time for the story to be told from the perspective of the one who lived it. With deep respect for the United States, and for every person involved in this history, I will reveal the thoughts, fears, hopes and truths that I remember with clarity, including the memories of her final day. The truth cannot remain buried forever. The universe eventually calls for it to rise, and that moment is now.

They tried to bury the truth, not knowing it was a seed — a seed that, when ready, breaks through the earth with strong roots, a living trunk, green leaves, bright flowers and enduring fruit.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for being here as this truth finally comes to light.

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