Inside the ‘Lost Tribe’ Accused of Murder

Deep within the Amazon rainforest, a deadly battle over diamonds shattered the fragile peace between the indigenous Cinta-Larga tribe and white prospectors seeking fortune on their ancestral lands.

Twenty years later, the massacre of 26 miners near the tribe’s reservation remains one of Brazil’s most shocking and unresolved tragedies.

On April 7, 2004, the bodies of the miners were discovered—some riddled with arrows, others bludgeoned or shot. Two corpses were missing their eyes, sparking grisly rumors that the tribe had smeared honey over their faces to attract swarms of ants and bees.

The events, chronicled in Alex Cuadros’ new book, “When We Sold God’s Eye: Diamonds, Murder, and a Clash of Worlds in the Amazon,” reveal a dark tale of greed, exploitation, and cultural collision.

At the center of the storm was Chief Nacoça Pio, the charismatic but controversial leader of the Cinta-Larga. Described by the media as a “diamond baron,” Pio stood accused of orchestrating the bloodbath to protect the tribe’s mineral-rich land from encroachment.

A Tribe in Isolation

The Cinta-Larga, whose name means “broad belt” in Portuguese, had lived in near isolation for centuries, shadowing explorers like Theodore Roosevelt during his Amazon expedition in the early 1900s. Their way of life was untouched by modern civilization.

“We didn’t have clocks or calendars,” Pio once explained. “If we needed something, we found it in the forest—nuts, honey, fruit.”

The tribe, numbering only around 2,000, had no concept of ownership. Even the dazzling diamonds they found in the rivers were discarded like any other stone. One such gem, large enough to be called Ngurá inhakíp—“God’s eye”—was tossed back into the water by a group of women who saw no value in it.

But that changed when outsiders arrived.

The Arrival of the Diamond Hunters

In 1999, Luca Pintado, an eccentric prospector in his 80s, ventured into Cinta-Larga territory with tales of hidden riches. “You’re going to be the richest Indian in the world,” he promised Pio.

Pintado’s words rang true. Beneath the tribe’s land lay one of the world’s most abundant diamond deposits. Though Brazilian law prohibited mining on indigenous land, it didn’t deter the flood of prospectors.

Rather than resist, Pio struck a deal—charging miners fees to access the reservation. Initially, it seemed like a financial boon. Tribe members bought modern luxuries—homes, televisions, and cars. Pio, however, focused on community welfare, investing in healthcare, medicine, and even dairy cows to improve nutrition.

“He always thought of his people,” a tribal member recalled. “It wasn’t about ‘mine.’ It was about ‘ours.’”

Tensions Erupt

Despite Pio’s efforts, resentment simmered. The Cinta-Larga wanted greater control over their lands, while miners accused the tribe of exploiting their labor. Pio found himself caught between two worlds—an alleged kingpin overseeing a multi-million-dollar operation and a leader fighting for his people’s survival.

By 2004, tensions reached a breaking point. The massacre was inevitable.

After the killings, Pio’s public statements fueled outrage. In an interview with TV Globo, he warned, “Don’t let your son come here anymore. Don’t let your husband come here. I can’t keep everyone under control.”

Federal police tried to pin the massacre on Pio, charging him with inciting the violence. But the case collapsed for lack of evidence. Two decades later, most charges have expired under Brazil’s statute of limitations, leaving the mystery unresolved.

A Legacy of Loss

Pio insists he had no role in the killings. “If I had been there, I would not have allowed it,” he maintains. Yet, his reflections suggest deeper regret—not just for the massacre, but for the path his people have taken.

In a phone call intercepted by authorities, Pio lamented the tribe’s descent into modernity. “The white man’s things make us lazy,” he said. “In the forest, we didn’t worry. No clothes, no money, no guns. No Sunday, no Saturday. Just life.”

Today, the Cinta-Larga are a people caught between worlds—torn between ancient traditions and the relentless march of progress. The massacre may have faded from headlines, but for Pio and his people, it remains a haunting reminder of what was lost in the pursuit of wealth.

As Cuadros poignantly writes, “In the end, the diamonds weren’t just stones. They were a curse—a shimmering temptation that fractured a once-unbreakable bond between a tribe and their land.”