In the summer of 2001, Rosario Porto and Alfonso Basterra, a Spanish couple in their mid-30s, embarked on a journey to China, filled with the nervous excitement of first-time parents. Rosario Porto, a lawyer from Santiago de Compostela, and Alfonso Basterra, a journalist, were on their way to adopt a baby girl. Despite Porto’s anti-anxiety medication, sleep evaded her as anticipation and agitation mingled on the long flight. They had successfully convinced Spanish authorities of their suitability as parents, promising a loving home within a supportive extended family. Porto’s lineage spoke of respectability: her father, a lawyer and honorary French consul, and her mother, a university art history lecturer. They had provided Porto with a spacious apartment in Santiago’s prestigious district, a home adorned with vibrant art and global curiosities, awaiting the arrival of their child. The nursery was prepared with whimsical wallpaper, depicting clouds and suns.
Adoption from China was uncommon in Santiago, a bourgeois city of 93,000 inhabitants. It was virtually unheard of, with only a few Chinese children adopted in Galicia, the larger, mostly rural region. However, Spanish couples, facing declining birth rates and stringent domestic adoption laws, were increasingly looking abroad. International adoption offered a quicker, albeit more expensive, path to parenthood, costing upwards of €10,000. By 2004, Spain became second only to the United States in international adoptions, peaking in 2005 with 2,750 Chinese children adopted, 95% of whom were girls, a consequence of China’s one-child policy which prioritized boys.
Adopting a girl from overseas was seen as both a personal fulfillment and a virtuous act, a rescue mission lauded within the progressive circles of the Basterra Porto family. Porto, inheriting her father’s honorary consul title, even shared her adoption experiences on local television, further cementing their image as exemplary parents. Psychological evaluations reinforced this positive perception. Porto was described as “friendly, relaxed, emotionally expressive, cooperative, adaptable and solicitous.” She declared herself a “passionate woman,” and portrayed her husband as “patient, easy-going, understanding, with a sense of humour, a strong character who makes his own decisions.” A family friend described the Porto family simply as “aristocracy.”
In Hunan province, China, a frail, nine-month-old baby girl named Asunta Fong Yang waited. Basterra would later recall the adoption trip as “incredible.” After two weeks of navigating Chinese bureaucracy and completing the necessary payments, they brought Asunta home to Santiago. Her Spanish identity documents now read Asunta Fong Yang Basterra Porto.
Asunta thrived, gaining weight and navigating the usual childhood illnesses. In Porto’s affluent social circle, medical care was readily accessible. They bypassed the public health system, opting for a consultant at the city’s major hospital. Even prescription drugs were easily obtained through friendly pharmacists—a privilege of their social standing in Santiago, a tranquil capital city of Galicia. Galician writer Miguel Anxo Murado described Santiago as “very complacent.” The couple readily utilized their connections, believing they were providing the best for Asunta.
Asunta’s exceptional intellect soon became evident. By secondary school, she was academically advanced enough to skip a year. Her parents, both encouraging and anxious, pushed her intellectually. Porto, after researching gifted children, told friends, “Well-handled, they are a good thing, but they can be a problem.” Asunta’s education included private tutoring in English, French, and Chinese, in addition to German at school. She already spoke Spanish and Galician. Ballet, violin, and piano lessons, often at Asunta’s own insistence, filled her schedule.
Ballet teacher Gail Brevitt, an Englishwoman, recounted Asunta’s Saturdays: “She got up at 7am, did Chinese from 8 until 10, came to ballet from 10.15 to 12.30, then did French until lunchtime. And then there was violin and piano.” Her parents meticulously tracked her progress. Though reserved with strangers, Asunta was lively at home, engaging in pranks, delivering mock political speeches, and performing in ballet costumes. Concerts and theatre outings were frequent, and Porto became involved in the Ateneo, a liberal cultural club hosting talks and concerts.
By age 12 in September 2012, Asunta, seemingly a “project child” molded into a prodigy, might have been expected to rebel. Once, when Porto listed Asunta’s activities, the girl retorted, “That’s one that I’m doing because you like it!” Yet, Asunta mostly appeared content, talented, disciplined, and enjoying her pursuits. She confided her concerns to Carmen González, the family’s cleaner and nanny, or to her godmother, María Isabel Veliz. Now taller than Porto, Asunta was on the cusp of adolescence. González described them as “an idyllic family.”
However, beneath the surface, cracks were appearing. In 2009, Porto spent two nights in a psychiatric hospital, citing suicidal thoughts, apathy, and guilt. Her mind was racing, and she felt competitive with her mother. A psychiatrist noted her irritability with Asunta, whom she saw as a “bother.” Porto discharged herself after two days, attending only one follow-up appointment.
Two years later, in 2011, Porto considered sending Asunta to boarding school in England to refine her English and nurture her potential. Porto herself had spent a year at a school in Oxford and a brief Erasmus exchange in France at 22. Her French experience was short-lived. “Nobody knew who I was. Here in Santiago, as my father was a faculty teacher, they treated me with greater consideration,” she later explained, revealing her fragile self-esteem. Her time in France marked the beginning of recurring bouts of anxiety and depression. After graduating, Porto joined her father’s law practice and later embellished her CV, falsely claiming completion of her Erasmus year and attendance at the non-existent London High School of Law.
In September 2013, 12-year-old Asunta returned to school after a summer holiday spent with her nanny and godmother. Veliz recalled, “She had a wonderful time.” Her parents were nearby but spent only a week with Asunta during the six-week break, recovering from an emotionally taxing 18 months marked by the deaths of Porto’s mother and, seven months later, her father. Asunta had been close to her grandparents, especially her grandfather, who walked her home from ballet. Her maternal grandmother, described as having “a personality like a lawnmower,” by an acquaintance and “charmingly awful” by Porto, had been a dominant figure in the family.
These losses exposed fractures in Porto’s marriage. In early 2013, Porto and Basterra divorced, shocking their friends. Porto’s initial attraction to Basterra, whom she saw as puritanical, antisocial, apathetic, and unpredictable, had waned. She confessed to a friend that she had tired of her “house-husband.” Porto had begun an affair with Manuel García, a successful businessman. Basterra discovered the affair through Porto’s emails, leading to the marriage’s end. He initially moved in with Basque relatives but returned to a small apartment nearby, stating his desire to remain in Asunta’s life.
Porto explained the divorce to Asunta, reassuring her of their continued love. Asunta’s practical question was, “So who will cook?” Her father, whose freelance work was inconsistent, had managed the household. Basterra bombarded Porto with emails about domestic responsibilities, aware of her disorganization and anxiety. A friend remarked, “I doubt if she has ever even boiled an egg.” Financially reliant on Porto, Basterra’s status had diminished. Porto’s choice of lover, García, whom Basterra considered vulgar and still married, intensified his resentment.
Asunta’s reaction to these upheavals is unknown. Her once-stable world was crumbling, and her trust in her parents must have been affected.
Image alt text: Rosario Porto and Alfonso Basterra’s divorce in 2013 surprised their social circle, marking a turning point in the Asunta case.
In June 2013, Porto suffered a nervous breakdown with physical symptoms, including facial paralysis. Basterra rushed to her hospital bedside and helped her resettle at home. They partially resumed their old routines, sharing meals, and even considered reconciliation.
Meanwhile, Asunta continued her demanding schedule. On Saturday, September 21, 2013, after lunch and cards at her father’s apartment, followed by an episode of The Simpsons, Asunta laid out her schoolbooks on her bedroom rug. It seemed the family had weathered their recent crises, and Asunta’s life was back on track.
Alfredo Balsa, a known figure to Santiago police due to his frequenting of clubes de alterne (legal brothels) and drunk driving in Teo, a rural area outside Santiago, was driving in the early hours of September 22. Despite a revoked license, the Satay brothel was nearby.
Around dawn on September 22, Balsa and a friend left a bar in Feros. Driving towards the Satay in Balsa’s white Volkswagen Golf, the bright night and shadowy trees created stark contrasts. Balsa spotted something unusual in the shadows, resembling a scarecrow. Reversing and using his headlights, he saw a human form lying on a bank just meters from the track.
They approached cautiously. A girl lay on pine needles, dressed in grey sweatpants and a white T-shirt pulled up, barefoot. Her left arm was contorted, a wet stain marked her crotch, and blood-tinged mucus was under her nose. The discovery was shocking, made more so by the girl being Asian in this rural setting. They checked for a pulse – there was none.
Police quickly identified the victim. Rosario Porto and Alfonso Basterra had reported Asunta missing at the Santiago police station at 10:17 pm the previous night. Police records indicated Asunta was left home doing homework at 7 pm while Porto went to their country house in Teo, about 20 minutes from Santiago and 4km from where the body was found. Porto claimed Asunta was missing when she returned at 9:30 pm.
Asunta, described as obedient and unlikely to wander, prompted Porto to call Basterra. After a brief wait, they contacted some of Asunta’s friends, none of whom had seen her. Basterra then reminded Porto to tell Inspector Javier Vilacoba about a past incident. Porto recounted a July night when Asunta’s screams woke her at 2 am. She claimed to have found a man in black with latex gloves bending over Asunta. The man fled, bruising Porto’s face. They had mistakenly left keys in the door lock. Porto suspected the intruder was after a safe with cash.
Porto had consulted the police but chose not to file a formal report. She reasoned that break-ins were rarely solved and nothing was stolen. “Asunta was a fearful girl. I did not want her to feel unsafe in her own home,” Porto explained, oddly not informing neighbors. However, witnesses noted Porto’s bruise and sensed something disturbing had occurred. Asunta had texted a friend, “Today someone tried to kill me!” Two months later, it appeared someone had succeeded.
Inspector Vilacoba informed Asunta’s parents of her death at 4:45 am. Earlier, he and Basterra had shared a cigarette outside, where Basterra had speculated Asunta was dead and hoped she had not been raped.
Image alt text: School memorial for Asunta Basterra Porto in Santiago de Compostela, commemorating her life tragically cut short in the unsettling Asunta case.
The next days were a distressing blur of police interviews and grief. Porto, having cremated both parents recently, faced cremation again on September 24. The wake was crowded. Porto and Basterra photographed Asunta’s closed coffin before cremation.
Reporters gathered outside. Tareixa Navaza, a local journalist, acted as the family spokesperson, vehemently defending Porto’s innocence. While Basterra wept, a man approached Porto, whispering to her, and they briefly disappeared unnoticed.
Soon, news broke: Porto was arrested at the funeral by the Civil Guard police. The notion of Porto killing Asunta seemed absurd to those who knew her. A neighbor, Olga Fachal, stated, “I just don’t understand. I never saw Charo mistreat Asunta in any way.”
However, Investigating Magistrate José Antonio Vázquez Taín, known for his unconventional methods, oversaw the investigation and ordered Porto’s arrest.
Despite lacking physical evidence directly linking Porto to the body, compelling circumstantial evidence emerged. CCTV footage from a petrol station near Porto’s apartment showed her driving her old Mercedes towards their country house with a long-haired girl in the passenger seat. The timestamp contradicted Porto’s initial statements that Asunta was home at that time.
Confronted with the video, Porto admitted the passenger was Asunta, blaming memory lapses due to nerves, medication, and grief. She claimed they briefly visited the country house because Asunta felt unwell and wanted to return home. Porto said she dropped Asunta off near their apartment and then ran errands, which she failed to complete due to her distress.
Porto’s behavior had already raised suspicions. At the country house, she immediately went to a room containing a wastepaper basket with orange baler twine snippets, similar to twine found near Asunta’s body, believed used to bind her. A roll of similar twine was found in a storeroom, but forensic analysis couldn’t confirm a definitive match.
If Porto was involved, an accomplice seemed likely given her small stature. The day after Porto’s arrest, Judge Taín ordered Basterra’s arrest.
Public shock rippled through Santiago. Porto and Basterra were perceived as a well-liked couple. Porto masked her issues behind a cheerful facade, known for generosity and absentmindedness, not snobbery. When Asunta outgrew clothes, Porto would offer them to friends with younger daughters, even delivering them personally, as recalled by journalist Demetrio Peláez. University lecturer Karen Duncan-Barlow recounted spontaneous Christmas dinner invitations after reconnecting with Porto years later.
Image alt text: Rosario Porto’s arrest, captured in this photograph, marked a dramatic turn in the investigation of Asunta’s murder, highlighting the shocking accusations against her.
Basterra, a travel journalist of limited local media presence, was considered unremarkable. His radio career attempts were hampered by his monotone voice. Colleagues at El Correo newspaper noted his prioritization of cultural events over work when courting Porto. There was also some envy of his lifestyle.
Basterra’s Basque family, once wealthy, had lost their fortune, but he maintained a strong sense of class and gentlemanly conduct, “the honour of the Basterras.” Acquaintances recognized Porto’s capriciousness and Basterra’s seemingly dominated demeanor, though some saw a condescending side to him. It later emerged that Basterra had been physically abusive to Porto on occasions.
Little physical evidence implicated Basterra. He claimed to be alone at home, cooking or reading, phone off, during the murder. Porto also claimed her phone battery was dead, preventing location tracking.
Asunta spent her last night at Basterra’s apartment after Porto said she’d be late from an out-of-town exhibition. This indicated Basterra’s hopes for family reconciliation were unrealistic. He had demanded Porto end her relationship with García, her lover, as a condition of support after her breakdown. She had agreed but secretly resumed the affair the day before Asunta’s murder, spending the afternoon with García on his boat.
Beyond the CCTV footage, Asunta’s toxicology report was crucial. It revealed toxic levels of lorazepam, the active ingredient in Porto’s anti-anxiety medication Orfidal. Initial findings suggested Asunta was drugged and then suffocated.
Music teachers recalled Asunta appearing drowsy and unsteady in the months before her death. She told Isabel Bello, a music academy director, “I took some white powders. I don’t know what they are giving me. No one tells me the truth,” she confided to a violin teacher. Asunta had also missed school the Wednesday before her death, with Porto citing a bad reaction to medication in a note.
Hair analysis confirmed lorazepam presence along the first three centimeters of Asunta’s hair, indicating drug ingestion over three months, corroborating teachers’ observations.
Investigators developed a theory: the parents, tired of Asunta, whom they had “bought,” planned her murder. They believed it was a calculated act to eliminate a “bothersome” child, involving Orfidal dosing, disabling phones, and feigning abduction. Porto was seen as the driving force, possibly unhinged by her parents’ recent deaths. A psychologist who saw Porto before the murder noted she felt “overwhelmed” by Asunta.
Immediately after Basterra’s arrest, police placed him in a cell next to Porto, secretly recording their conversations. Despite hours of recordings, no confession or incriminating evidence emerged (and the recordings were later deemed inadmissible). Porto made enigmatic statements like, “Look what trouble your overheated imagination has got us into.”
Image alt text: Alfonso Basterra’s arrest, depicted here, further complicated the Asunta case, as both adoptive parents became suspects in her tragic death.
However, the recordings revealed a shift in Basterra’s demeanor. When alone, he was no longer submissive, commanding “Silence!” to Porto when she spoke too much.
Judge Taín noted the surprise, “It seems they took it in turns to be dominant.” Investigators concluded Basterra could also be the instigator. An interrogator described them as “two of the most selfish people I have met. She is a spoilt child. He thinks he is superior to the rest of the world.”
For two years, Spanish tabloid television speculated about guilt, motives, and evidence, spreading rumors of Basterra’s paedophilia and Porto murdering her parents. Police leaks fueled public opinion. Everyone had theories, yet the motive remained elusive.
Child murders by adoptive parents are rare, often stemming from rage or inadequacy. Asunta, obedient and gifted, and her parents, did not fit typical profiles. Porto had depression and anxiety, but these don’t automatically make someone a killer.
On October 1, 2015, the prosecution presented its case in Santiago’s courtroom. Two years in prison had changed Porto and Basterra. Porto was often in a medicated haze. Basterra, now balding and bearded, was openly hostile, particularly towards Judge Taín. He was confrontational, indignant, and sneering in court. Porto was tearful and confused, with moments of clarity, attributing memory lapses to her nerves. Both wore black.
Over a month, a jury of nine heard the evidence, already familiar with the case from media coverage. Aside from music teachers noting Asunta’s drowsiness, witnesses described Porto and Basterra as model parents. Nanny González maintained, “To me they were always a perfect family.”
Prosecutors argued a months-long conspiracy to murder Asunta, eventually downgrading charges against Basterra to accomplice. Porto couldn’t explain her initial lies about her movements on the day of Asunta’s death. Basterra’s weakness, besides past violence against Porto (downplayed by Porto in court), was the Orfidal. Evidence showed he obtained at least 175 pills over 10 weeks, some illicitly. Porto claimed occasional use. Asunta, the jury heard, ingested at least 27 crushed pills on her death day, nine times an adult dose. Neither parent explained how or why, claiming they only gave her hay fever medication when she seemed dizzy.
After three and a half days, the jury delivered a harsher verdict than requested. They accepted testimony from a 15-year-old who claimed to see Asunta with Basterra when he claimed to be home. They concluded Basterra might have hidden in the car when Asunta was taken to the country house, where she was smothered and then dumped. Judge Taín sentenced both to 18 years, the crime preceding harsher laws. Both appealed.
The guilty verdict deepened the mystery. Why did they adopt Asunta? Basterra reportedly never wanted children, influenced by Porto’s parents’ pressure. An investigator speculated they wanted to project a “happy family” image, portraying them as arrogant and selfish. “If she wants something, she thinks she can just buy it. And if she doesn’t want it, she gets rid of it. He helps her to satisfy her whims. But when she is dependent, he becomes violent.”
Could this have been foreseen? Pre-adoption psychological evaluations missed Porto’s pre-existing psychiatric issues, or perhaps dismissed them. Galician officials declined to comment on internal reviews of adoption procedures post-Asunta’s death.
Adoption processes in Galicia are now more rigorous. China tightened adoption rules, and international adoptions have globally decreased, reflecting trafficking concerns and improved child protection in origin countries. The Asunta Fong Yang case remains a rare and horrific event.
Asunta, in her short life, left little lasting impact. Her English practice blog, featuring a murder mystery story, is a poignant remnant: “Once upon a time there was a happy family… One day the woman was assesinated.”
Asunta’s roadside shrine, with decaying toys and flowers, bears a hand-painted sign: “You showed no compassion, no feelings, no heart,” directed at her parents. Her ashes were given to a friend of Porto, leaving her convicted murderers to decide their final disposition. The question of why Asunta was killed remains unanswered, shrouded in the unsettling mystery of a seemingly motiveless crime committed by the very people meant to protect her.
