Full Name: Sofia Yasmin Herrera

Alternative Name: Sofía, Sofía Yazmín

Case Status: Missing

Record ID#: 0159

*The names “Jane Doe”  and “John Doe” are English names used when the person’s true name is not known. If used above, the name refers to a person of unknown identity.

Date of Birth*: December 30, 2004
Birthplace: Río Grande, Tierra Del Fuego, Argentina
Age at the Time: 3
Age Group: Toddler (2 to 5 Years Old)
Biological Sex: Female
Hair: Dark Hair, Straight, Shoulder-Length
Eyes: Dark Colored
Skin Complexion: Fair or Light, Medium
Shoe Size:
Ethnicity: Hispanic or Latino
Nationality: Argentina
Languages Spoken: Spanish

*If the date says January 1, this is often just a placeholder for an unknown specific date. It usually means “sometime that year”.

Physical Build: Slim or Thin

Height:

Weight

Distinguishing Marks:

• Beauty Mark or Mole

Medical Condition:
Physical Abnormality:
Dental Condition: She still had her baby teeth.
Scars & Other Marks:
Piercings:
Tattoos:

Other Descriptors:

Clothing

Light Blue Parka (Jacket), Pink Pants, Black boots with light colored soles 

Possessions:

Date of the Disappearance*: September 28, 2008

Description: On a radiant morning in the far south of Argentina, September 28, 2008, the newly opened John Goodall Campground in Tierra del Fuego welcomed the Herrera family. The air was crisp, the sky unusually clear—a rare gift in these latitudes. Three-and-a-half-year-old Sofía Yazmín Herrera, wrapped in her light-blue jacket, darted ahead with the boundless energy only a child can muster. The family and their friends had arrived around 11 a.m. at the park; happy to let the children stretch their legs as they raced about. Sofia’ mother, María Elena Delgado, watched as her husband, Fabián, took Sofia’s hand to search for firewood among the wind-bent trees.

Within minutes, the ordinary rhythms of a family outing unraveled. The adults, busy unloading supplies, let the children follow the men into the brush. But when Fabián returned, Sofía was not with him. She was not in the van, not among the tents, not anywhere the frantic shouts could reach. Panic surged. Fathers called her name across the plains, mothers clawed through underbrush, but the only answer was silence. With no cell service, María Elena and Fabián sprinted to the caretaker’s hut, desperate for help. It would be two endless hours before authorities arrived.

Theories swirled in the aftermath—a fatal fall, a misstep into a ravine, a tragic accident swallowed by the wilderness. Yet María Elena’s heart rejected these explanations. “No clothes, no body, no trace. I know she was taken.” Her conviction, at first dismissed, would eventually find chilling validation.

Among the children that day was six-year-old Néstor, the last to see Sofía alive. His testimony, unwavering across three separate recountings, painted a haunting scene:

“I saw the man take her by the hand. . . He was on the road, not even from the campsite.”

For years, his words were dismissed as the unreliable memories of a child, but time would lend them new gravity. A police sketch based on his description matched a suspect with startling 75% accuracy.

The man Néstor described was José Dagoberto Díaz Águila, a Chilean day laborer and drifter known as “Espanta la Virgen.” His past was shadowed by violence—stab wounds, arson, and unsettling confessions. Early in the investigation, he told police,

“A friend of mine found her crying in a fox trap, hit her, and killed her.”

Once disregarded, this detail became central as the investigation deepened. Interpol issued a red alert in 2022, and a warrant followed in 2020, charging Díaz Águila with crimes ranging from attempted murder to “homicide criminis causa.” But he vanished, likely slipping across the porous border into Chile, leaving a void that haunted both investigators and Sofía’s family.

Néstor, now a young man, has carried the weight of that day. “I feel responsible… I was very young,” he confided, yet his clear, consistent account remains one of the investigation’s strongest threads—late, but powerful. He holds onto hope: “So many years… it would be great if they find him and see justice done.”

María Elena’s resolve never wavered. In the years that followed, rumors swirled—whispers that Sofía had been sold, that the family staged her disappearance. She bore them all, refusing to let her daughter’s memory dissolve into suspicion or statistics. When she returned home pregnant with Giuliana, every stuffed toy, every photograph, every tiny garment became a reliquary for Sofía’s memory. Her daughter’s clothes remain unwashed, preserved in hope that modern DNA techniques might one day yield answers.

María Elena became a quiet but unyielding force, traveling to Buenos Aires, meeting with officials and other families, ensuring Sofía’s case would not be forgotten. In 2019, her persistence bore fruit: Argentina established the Sofía Alert—its answer to the AMBER Alert—designed to mobilize the nation in high-risk cases involving minors. Still, María Elena laments that, too often, the system responds too late.

The search for Sofía has crossed paths with other tragedies. In 2022, a teenager adopted as an infant in San Juan drew attention for her resemblance to Sofía, but DNA testing was denied; only documents were checked. In 2024, the disappearance of Loan Peña in Corrientes brought new scrutiny. The adopted teenage daughter of Carlos Pérez, a former naval officer, bore a striking likeness to Sofía and had been present in Tierra del Fuego on that fateful day. DNA tests in July 2025 proved negative, finally quelling rumors. “Now the rumors end. Not my daughter—now the whispers have to stop,” María Elena said, relieved to close yet another painful chapter.

She continues to gather testimony, including that of a woman who claims to have seen Pérez near the campground in 2008, accompanied by a Navy commissioner. Though the witness was found mentally sound, her account remains under investigation.

The case remains open. The search endures. And perhaps, in the fullness of time, justice—long delayed—will bring answers to a mother and a sister who have never stopped believing, never stopped searching, and never let Sofía’s memory fade.

Multiple Victims?: No

Rumored or Actual Sightings: Not long after the disappearance, the region was swept with rumors and anxious reports. Some claimed to have seen a child resembling Sofía in nearby towns, or even across the border in Chile. Police followed each lead, combing through neighborhoods and border crossings, but none yielded more than fleeting shadows—no child, no confirmation.

Shortly after Sofía’s disappearance, a particularly vivid report emerged from Néstor, only a child at the time. He claimed to have seen a man with a gray car and a Boxer dog in the vicinity of the campground, allegedly taking a little girl matching Sofía’s description. The details—so specific, so concrete—sent investigators racing down new avenues. Yet, as with so many early leads, the identity of the witness faded from the record, and the trail grew cold. No man, no car, no dog was ever found; the sighting, though haunting, remained unconfirmed. That said, his description and the sketch made based on his depiction matched the primary person of interest (José Dagoberto Díaz Águila) surprisingly closely.

Years later, in 2022, a new hope flickered in San Juan, where a teenager, adopted as an infant, bore a striking resemblance to Sofía. The resemblance was enough to stir the media and reignite public interest. Yet, bureaucracy intervened: DNA testing was denied, and only official documents were reviewed. The investigation quietly concluded—no match, no reunion.

In 2024, the case intersected with another tragedy—the disappearance of Loan Peña in Corrientes. This time, suspicion fell on the adopted teenage daughter of Carlos Pérez, a former naval officer, who not only resembled Sofía but also had been present in Tierra del Fuego on that fateful day in 2008. The speculation was relentless, but DNA tests conducted in July 2025 finally brought clarity: the girl was not Sofía. For María Elena, the result was bittersweet—relief that the rumors could be put to rest, sorrow that the search must continue.

There have been other whispers, too—a woman claiming to have seen Pérez near the campground in 2008, in the company of a Navy commissioner. Her account, deemed mentally sound, remains under investigation, another uncertain note in a symphony of half-truths and maybes.

Through it all, none of the sightings have been confirmed. Each has ended with a door quietly closing, the mystery deepening, and Sofía’s family left to gather their strength for another year of searching, another year of hope.

*If the date says January 1, this is often just a placeholder for an unknown specific date. It usually means “sometime that year”.

Date the Body was Recovered:

Description: Unknown

Time of Death:

Cause of Death:

Recovered Remains (if partial):

Suspected Homicide?:

Multiple Victims?: No

DNA Tested (No Match):

*If the date says January 1, this is often just a placeholder for an unknown specific date. It usually means “sometime that year”.

Description: Grey Car

License Plate:

Description: The news of a suspect in Sofía Herrera’s disappearance sent tremors through the close-knit community of Río Grande. The man at the center of the storm was José Dagoberto Díaz Águila—sometimes called Juan Dagoberto Díaz Águila—born in 1969 on the windswept island of Chiloé, Chile. Known by his alias “Espanta la Virgen,” he was a drifter whose presence was felt long before his name appeared in any official file.

In the early days of the investigation, Díaz Águila’s name was little more than a whisper. It was a police officer, part of the initial search for Sofía, who first recounted encounters with the mysterious nomad. The man claimed to know what had happened to the missing girl, offering cryptic hints and unsettling stories about his friend finding her in a fox trap, hitting her and killing her. Yet, for years, his testimony remained outside the formal investigation, and Díaz Águila himself drifted in and out of the public eye, never fully summoned until Judge Daniel Cesari Hernández took over the case in 2017.

Díaz Águila’s background is a tapestry of instability and violence. He was known to take refuge in various homes during his
rare pauses from a nomadic life, committing petty crimes—cattle rustling, theft, vandalism. But it was a bloody bar fight that truly brought him to the attention of Río Grande’s residents. On one occasion, he stabbed another man in the stomach during an altercation, a crime that would later intertwine with his notoriety.

His life was punctuated by incidents that bordered on the surreal. On January 3, 2016, the shack he shared with another man was engulfed in flames—an arson, according to forensic investigators. The fire was never fully investigated by the courts, but whispers among neighbors spoke of revenge, fueled by suspicions of a sexual offense against a minor.

Later that year, Díaz Águila’s full name surfaced in the headlines. In October, he scaled the National Radio antenna, shouting demands for “a home and a job,” holding police at bay for two tense hours before climbing down and being admitted to the Mental Health Department of the local hospital. Days after his release, he landed in a boarding house on Fagnano Street, where another violent altercation erupted—this time, he allegedly stabbed a roommate, Oscar Alberto Pereyra, sending both men to the hospital, Díaz Águila once again to the mental health unit.

The legal proceedings moved at a glacial pace. By the time authorities sought him for questioning about the stabbing, “Espanta la Virgen” had already vanished, slipping into the ether and becoming the ghost he remains to this day.

Physically, Díaz Águila is described as having dark, wavy hair, thick arched eyebrows, prominent almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones, an aquiline nose, and an elongated face. His appearance is as distinctive as his reputation—yet it has not led to his capture.

When Nestor’s story remained unchanged over the years, police used his description of the man who took Sofia to create a sketch. One that would match to Díaz Águila with significant accuracy.

Despite an Interpol red notice and the conviction of Judge Cesari Hernández that Díaz Águila holds vital answers, no trace of him has surfaced. Investigators believe he may have crossed into southern Chile through an unauthorized border crossing, perhaps returning to his native Chiloé, as he had done so many times before. For now, he remains a fugitive—a man of violence and secrets, whose story is inseparable from the enduring mystery of Sofía Herrera.