In 1992, Ecuador was gripped by fear.

 In 1992, Ecuador was gripped by fear.

A teenager — Juan Fernando Hermosa — went on a killing spree in Quito and surrounding areas. He was just 15 years old. By the time police arrested him, 22 people were dead.

He became known as “El Niño del Terror.” Under Ecuador’s juvenile law at the time, minors could not receive adult sentences — no matter how many lives were taken. The maximum penalty was four years in detention.

Hermosa served the full term.

In 1996, just days after his release and on his 20th birthday, his body was found near a river in Sucumbíos province. He had been tortured. Shot. Left dead.

Authorities never fully resolved the circumstances. Many believed it was revenge. The law had limits. The street didn’t.

The murders had unfolded with chilling randomness. Taxi drivers, small business owners, and ordinary pedestrians became targets in a city that once felt predictable and safe. Quito’s streets emptied earlier each night. Parents warned their children not to travel alone. Rumors spread faster than facts, and fear settled into daily life like a permanent fog.

When police finally captured Hermosa in early 1992, the nation demanded answers. How could someone so young carry out such calculated violence? During interrogations, investigators said he showed little remorse. Psychologists struggled to explain whether he was a product of environment, mental illness, or something far darker. The case forced Ecuadorians to confront uncomfortable questions about youth crime and responsibility.

The trial reignited debate over the country’s juvenile justice system. Ecuadorian law at the time treated minors as rehabilitative cases rather than fully criminally responsible adults. For many families of the victims, four years felt like an insult to their grief. Yet others argued that abandoning legal protections for minors would erode the foundation of the justice system itself.

During his detention, reports suggested Hermosa adapted quickly to confinement. Some claimed he expressed regret; others believed he was simply waiting for his time to pass. The facility offered education and structured programs, built on the belief that even violent youth could be reformed. But outside those walls, anger never faded.

His death in 1996 only deepened the mystery and tragedy surrounding the case. Whether it was vigilante revenge, a criminal dispute, or something else entirely, the unanswered questions left scars on a country already shaken. The story of “El Niño del Terror” remains one of Ecuador’s most haunting chapters — a collision between law, justice, and the raw emotions of a wounded public.