There was no arrest warrant. He was taken away a week after the July 28 election, the results of which sparked protests across the country – including in sectors traditionally dominated by Chavismo – that were repressed by law enforcement. The whirlwind left 27 dead and nearly 200 injured.
Ocariz, 53, lived in Coche, a poor neighbourhood in the west of the capital, where he denounced abuses of power. He was charged with crimes of “terrorism, incitement to hatred and public derision” and taken to a maximum security prison.
“It’s unfair,” his sister Sol, 65, told AFP. “I can’t allow my brother, who is innocent, to be imprisoned. He was a human rights activist, and what he did was to denounce irregularities.”
Sol shows videos of the moment of the arrest shortly after noon: him in flip-flops, a T-shirt and shorts, handcuffed and escorted by four hooded officers. “They’re taking him away!” can be heard on the recording. “Damn them! One day they’re going to pay!” neighbors shout from their balconies in the building.
Maduro claims that the detainees were recruited by the opposition to impose violence in the country.
The protest was quickly neutralized. On the first day alone, there were more than 700 arrests and the Chavista regime opened channels to report suspects in what was called “Operation Tun Tun,” in reference to the sound of the knock on the door when the officers arrive.
More than 2,400 people have already been arrested, including more than 100 teenagers, who also face terrorism charges.
Dozens of people gathered outside the cells seeking news of their relatives. Visits are limited and a private lawyer is a rarity: most end up with public defenders.
“Forced disappearances and arbitrary detentions have become the new normal” with a “series of repressive patterns,” denounces the human rights NGO Provea, which reported an average of 150 arrests per day in two weeks. “We have gone from a period of selective persecution to one of massive persecution.”
Maduro claims to be a guarantor of peace and calls for “civic-military-police unity.”
“Terror”
Edward is in the Tocuyito prison, which was set up along with the Tocorón prison to hold detainees. Both maximum security prisons were under the control of criminal gangs for years until they were occupied by law enforcement in 2023.
“It’s terrible, but you have to take action,” says Sol, who says she is not afraid to report her case, an exception amid the panic that reigns among the relatives of someone behind bars for the protests.
This is what happens to José, who asks to change his identity due to a “rather high level of terror.” He has two friends in custody, brothers aged 23 and 27, whom he calls Luis and Carlos (not their real names either).
“You don’t know what to say, who to talk to” because of the snitches, explains José.
Luis and Carlos protested on July 29 on a central avenue in the capital, which was bustling from east to west with burning tires and tricolor flags. “They wanted to defend the right to vote” in a “peaceful way,” recalls José, 31.
They were arrested after police “broke the gate” of their apartment in the working-class neighborhood of La Candelaria, leaving behind their mother in “permanent anguish” and their sick father. José then took up the cause.
“It’s hard to smile”
They take notes, listen carefully, record with their cell phones. “The family is also part of this team,” says Alfredo Romero, director of Foro Penal, to dozens of people lost in a legal sea. Lawyers from this NGO, known for defending “political prisoners,” offer free meetings and advice.
“This is distressing. It’s hard for me to smile,” says the mother of Adrian, a 16-year-old boy who was approached by soldiers in the street, tears stuck in her throat. Like everyone else, she is afraid to testify.
Social media also serves as a window for anonymous testimonies from Venezuelans in fear.
“I had to pay 750 dollars so that my son wouldn’t be put in jail. He’s 19 years old and just wants to live in freedom,” says one. “I’m on probation just for posting on my Instagram what’s happening in Venezuela,” says another. “This is mentally exhausting, it’s psychological terror. I don’t even know how to explain it.”
At their first meeting after the arrest, Sol recalls asking Edward, “How do you want us to handle this?” “‘Go for it,’ he said, about continuing to seek justice. And here I am. We’re not playing around.”
