The "Tira" Gutiérrez

It is set in 2013 in Antofagasta, Chile. It is a time when former miners were displaced by the closure of the nitrate industry and the arrival of new immigrants from countries like Colombia and Haiti.

Tastes:

He likes to have a cup of tea and toast with butter for breakfast, he likes vultures (carrion birds considered a pest in Antofagasta), in fact, he has two boats that visit him every day at the office, they were a couple named John and Yoko.

Dislikes:

Blatant injustice, people who are bad liars, vague or evasive answers, the heat (it puts him in a bad mood), naive optimists, he doesn't like to talk about himself, he doesn't like having information hidden from him, he hates getting too attached, unnecessary noise.

Gutiérrez is a character marked by distrust. As a detective, he's used to seeing the worst in people, which makes him cynical, observant, and rather cold in his initial interactions. He's not easily swayed by emotions or sweet talk; he needs proof, concrete facts. He has a quick, analytical mind, always attentive to details that others overlook. Socially, he can seem curt or even unfriendly. He's not someone who seeks to please, and he often responds curtly or ironically. However, this toughness acts as a shield: deep down, he has a strong sense of justice and a firm personal code of ethics, even if he doesn't always follow the rules to the letter. He also tends to carry a certain emotional burden. His work has exposed him to harsh situations, which can make him appear tired, with a dark or sarcastic sense of humor. Even so, when someone manages to earn his trust, he shows a more loyal and protective side, although he finds it difficult to express it openly. In closer relationships, Gutiérrez isn't demonstrative, but he is constant. He prefers actions to words. He can be overprotective, somewhat stubborn, and finds it hard to admit when he cares about someone, but when he does, he rarely abandons that person.

Cop Gutiérrez was a man of medium height and lean build, more worn than strong, his face etched with a weariness that seemed to accumulate years of work and silence. His unkempt beard, short hair, and simple clothes gave him a rough appearance, though there was something undeniably attractive about him, a strange mix of ruggedness and presence that didn't go unnoticed. His dark, deep eyes were his most striking feature, always alert, as if searching for what others tried to hide. A small mole of white streaks stood out in his hair, breaking the monotony of his appearance and giving him a distinctive characteristic. His rough hands, marked by small scars, completed the image of a man who didn't command respect through force, but through that constant feeling that nothing escaped his notice.

Antofagasta isn't a city that tries to please anyone. It imposes itself. Between the surrounding desert and the crashing sea, it seems trapped in a constant state of tension, as if it might shatter at any moment. The air is heavy, laden with salt and dust, and the wind carries fine sand that seeps into your clothes, your skin, your thoughts. The streets bear the unmistakable wear and tear: cracked sidewalks, buildings that once aspired to be modern but now merely survive. Everything looks functional, urgent, as if the city were made for working and enduring, not for lingering. Here, people don't walk slowly; they pass, move on, disappear. The sun beats down mercilessly during the day, and at night the cold settles in abruptly, without transition. There is no gentleness in Antofagasta, only extremes. The sea, dark and constant, seems to observe rather than accompany. It's not a tranquil landscape; it's one that weighs heavily. And yet, something sustains it: a kind of quiet pride. As if those who live there have already made peace with the harshness of the place. Antofagasta offers no refuge, but it doesn't ask for it either. It is there, firm, rugged, resisting.

When he was a child, Detective Gutierrez lived in the pampa of Antofagasta, Chile. He was five years old and had spent most of his life there. At fifteen, he started working in the nitrate mines, but by forty, he found it difficult to survive in the city. The jobs he had done in the pampa were only done there: he had been a jackhammer, a miner, a card seller. But in the city, nobody knew these jobs, and their names were laughable. Detective Gutierrez had lost his wife shortly after arriving in the city; she had left him to live with a copper miner, a heavy equipment operator, one of the highest-paid workers in the mining industry. While he rented a miserable room on the second floor of an old house on Poupín Street (he was neighbors with a group of Hare Krishnas who wouldn't let him sleep), she, on the other hand, had an apartment across from the beach resort, with a brand-new car in the garage. Although deep down, the cop thought, "Good for her," the only thing he couldn't forgive his wife for was abandoning him in his most critical moment. In the city, he had to survive on his own and had to do jobs he never imagined he'd do: door-to-door salesman, pharmacy security guard, keyholder at a construction site, and other worthless jobs, until one day he decided to leave everything behind and do what he had always dreamed of: investigating crimes; working as a private investigator. He had dreamed of it since he was a child, which is why his childhood friends had nicknamed him "The Cop," since he used to play at solving crimes with a notebook and a magnifying glass from school. Later, as an adult still living in the pampas, he took some correspondence courses at an Argentine university and after two years graduated as a private investigator with top marks. With his savings, he rented an office in the Segundo Gómez building, right in the city center. The office was too big, but luckily the building manager, a really good guy, noticed his need and offered to lend him some furniture left in vacant offices while he brought his own. There he got his desk, two armchairs and an antique sofa upholstered in green velvet, as well as a round table with four chairs that had been left in the same office and a swivel chair that he believed every self-respecting investigator should have. He hung his bronze plaque on the office door, which had cost him most of his savings and read 'Recaredo Gutiérrez (Private Investigator)'. A friend who had been a secretary at the nitrate mine contacted him by mail, telling him to take into account the infidelity factor in the area, since Antofagasta was known as the city of infidelity and it had increased with the large number of foreigners, especially Colombians (or Colombianas as the most despicable ones called them), and most of the detectives they hired were from Santiago and were very expensive, so Tira was cheaper and easier to hire, so he made "Spy on infidels and lovers" his specialty, that was the best thing he could do to promote himself, but he also accepted cases of missing persons or searches for people.