Mona's Story
 A.J. Townsend

Some stories are written. Others find their way to you.

Mona: The Last of the Incas began not as a single story, but as many.

While Mona stands at the center of this film, she is not one woman alone. Her story is a composite, drawn from the lived experiences of hundreds of women imprisoned in Auschwitz. Women whose voices were silenced, whose lives were fractured, and whose stories were too often reduced to footnotes in history. Mona exists to honor them, to carry their truth forward with dignity, care, and remembrance.

For years, Julia Eisen knew only fragments. Her mother had spoken of a relative, Mona, in hushed tones. A woman from “the wrong side of the railroad tracks,” as she once described it. A cabaret dancer. A name wrapped in both mystery and shame. 

As Julia grew older, those fragments began to take shape. What had once been a whispered family secret revealed itself as something far more profound: a connection to a world of women who lived, resisted, and suffered under the Nazi regime. What was once hidden became a call to remember.

When Julia shared this story, it carried a deep emotional weight. There was an unspoken understanding. This was not just family history. It was a responsibility. That is where our paths crossed.

As a filmmaker and storyteller dedicated to preserving voices that history has too often overlooked, I immediately recognized the importance of this story. It was not only deeply personal, but it was universally human. A story of women navigating a world that was not always kind to them, of resilience in the face of unimaginable darkness, and of identity reclaimed across generations.

Together, Julia and I committed to bringing these voices into the light.

What began as a conversation became a collaboration, one rooted in trust, shared purpose, and a responsibility to tell this story with authenticity and respect.

Mona: The Last of the Incas is more than a novel.
It is an act of remembrance. A restoration of voice.
And a continuation of the courage these women embodied.

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Because the injustices they endured are not confined to the past, and neither is the spirit of resistance.

This is our story. And this is how their stories live on.