Between 1956 and 1999, thousands of political opponents were arrested, tortured, arbitrarily detained, or disappeared without leaving a trace. In 2004, the Equity and Reconciliation Commission was mandated by King Mohammad VI to investigate past violations and compensate victims. Nos Lieux Interdits (2009) by Leila Kilani captures the process, in real-time, through the experience of four families. The rhythm of the documentary is modeled on the protagonists' bodies as they move from one space to another, recording their hesitant movements, anxious and shaky voices, and gestures expressing helplessness and despair. These embodied memories of political violence mirror the documentary’s cinematography, which uses aggressive and blinding brightness in contrast with a blackness that covers the entire screen at times as well as long silences to account for the ghostly presence of the absent bodies of those who never made it back to tell their stories. This paper analyzes how bodies perform ghostly narratives—haunted by the demand for ethical narrations and transmissions of silenced stories and histories of political violence—that decenter the state’s narrative—seeking to recast political violence as a thing of the past—and highlight an inherently flawed transitional justice and an unfinished reconciliation. Haunting, which yields an experience between the body as a witness and the viewer similar to what Joanne Lipson Freed defines as an “intense, temporary, and ultimately transformative encounter with unfathomable difference,” (36) has the potential of producing alternative processes of mourning and healing that counteract state-sponsored memorialization of political violence.