Peña was certain it meant she’d be reunited with her 24-year-old son, John Álvarez, who she said had been tortured and arbitrarily detained since Aug. 30. She began praying every day.
Miles away in the sprawling capital, Melania Benítez was consumed by the same overwhelming hope. She didn’t sleep for 48 hours after the Oct. 18 announcement in case she received a call about the release of her 42-year-old sister, Emirlendris Benítez. She could picture so clearly what it would be like to spend Christmas together for the first time since 2017. Her 10-year-old nephew would finally see and hug his mother.
The Nov. 30 deadline, however, came and went without Venezuela’s compliance — despite U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken’s warning that “failure to abide by the terms of this arrangement will lead the United States to reverse steps we have taken.”
Though the department initially stopped short of committing to restoring sanctions, a spokesperson told The Washington Post on Monday that such steps could follow the recent slate of “arbitrary arrests” and “lack of progress” on releases.
“These actions are unacceptable. If not reversed immediately, the United States will take necessary actions to reimpose sanctions,” the spokesperson said.
Venezuelan officials did not respond to The Post’s requests for comment.
Venezuela is holding approximately 300 political prisoners and at least three Americans, who U.S. officials say are being wrongfully detained. Between Oct. 18, when the deal with the United States was announced, and the Nov. 30 deadline, at least three more people were detained.
In a Dec. 1 statement, the State Department said that it was “deeply concerned” by Venezuela’s failure to release political prisoners and wrongfully detained Americans.
On Dec. 7, the Senate Foreign Relations Committee issued a statement decrying how Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro “is moving towards an even more brutal dictatorship” — and calling on the United States and its partners to “respond accordingly using all diplomatic tools, including imposing select sanctions.”
In the meantime, families of the political prisoners remain caught in the middle. Despite it all, some say they’re still clinging to their faith — on both a higher power and the Biden administration.
“The Álvarez Peña family believes in the magic of Christmas and in miracles,” Peña said between sobs. “We believe John will come back home. We believe President Joe Biden and the international community can make this miracle come true.”
On Aug. 30, John Álvarez, an anthropology and law student at the Central University of Venezuela, left home to buy supplies for his younger brother’s birthday party, his mother said, but he never made it back.
After “24 hours of hell,” without knowing his whereabouts, Peña said she received a call that her son had been arrested by the National Bolivarian Police for posting treasonous fliers on the street — something she denies.
Álvarez was charged with terrorism, conspiracy and criminal association — linking him to a case brought against a group of union members. According to Peña and Álvarez’s attorney, he was beaten with a bat and tortured with electroshocks. Álvarez has now lost vision in one eye and has a swollen kidney, his mother said.
In a separate case, Emirlendris Benítez — the sister of Melania Benítez — has been jailed since Aug. 5, 2018. That day, she accompanied her boyfriend on one of the taxi rides he’d been hired to provide. But the people in his car were accused of trying to assassinate Maduro with a drone.
Officers from Venezuela’s General Directorate of Military Counterintelligence suffocated Benítez with plastic bags and beat her to the point that her face is deformed and she is now in a wheelchair, according to her sister. Pregnant at the time of her arrest, Benítez was allegedly given a forced abortion, according to the human rights group Amnesty International. She is now serving a 30-year sentence for terrorism, treason and homicide.
“Her only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time — I mean, she didn’t even know what a drone was,” said Martha Tineo, a human rights lawyer and co-founder of the victim advocacy organization Justicia, Encuentro y Perdón. “But that’s how 98 percent of these cases are. Even though we call them political prisoners, only 2 percent are actually politicians.”
Over the past year, Venezuela has intensified its crackdown on trade union leaders, human rights activists, journalists and government critics, according to the latest report by the U.N. Fact-Finding Mission on Venezuela — which, since 2019, has investigated allegations of gross violations of human rights in the country, including extrajudicial killings, forced disappearances, arbitrary detentions and torture.
Last week, Venezuela’s attorney general issued arrest warrants for three campaign team members for María Corina Machado, who recently won the opposition’s presidential primaries. Roberto Abdul, a member of the primaries commission, was arrested shortly after on treason charges.
The State Department spokesperson said the arrest warrants should be withdrawn immediately.
Though crimes against humanity have been extensively documented by the United Nations, the International Criminal Court and other groups, Maduro and his administration have long denied both the violations and the existence of political prisoners, asserting that Venezuela respects human rights.
Because of the government’s denial, Tineo said, there’s no official tally of the country’s political prisoners — though the number has consistently stayed around 300. Grass-roots efforts by human rights groups and nongovernmental organizations have documented between 275 and 307 political prisoners. That’s a fraction of the nearly 16,000 political detentions that have been registered in the South American nation since 2014, according to Foro Penal, a Caracas-based human rights organization.
“These detentions and hearings happen outside the law,” said Génesis Dávila, a human rights attorney and founder of Defiende Venezuela, which has represented victims in the International Criminal Court. “And it’s an ever-churning, constant revolving door, where the state releases five, but then detains 10 more, so there’s never a definitive number of political prisoners.”
Many of the political prisoners, Dávila said, are tortured, and some have died — human rights violations that show no sign of stopping, even with the deal brokered with the U.S.
“You can’t lift sanctions when the situation remains the same, without there being any type of accountability,” she said. “If there are no consequences, no recognition of the victims, no reparations, then we’re just reinforcing the Venezuelan government’s impunity and the repressive machine that allows it to have absolute power.”
Enderson Sequera, a Venezuela-based political analyst, said Venezuela’s failure to comply combined with the “lack of an immediate meaningful action” from the United States suggests “a very significant credibility crisis and, above all, a very serious questioning … of the level of commitment to democracy and to freedoms and human rights the Biden administration has.”
“Simply put, the U.S. looks weak,” he said. “ … Since the agreement’s conditions were blatantly violated by Maduro, it just comes to show that the Biden administration is more concerned with having a more favorable election outlook in 2024 than it is in Venezuelan democracy and the release of political prisoners,” he said.
The White House referred The Post to the State Department, which said “the United States continues to stand with the Venezuelan people and their aspirations for a democratic future.”
Christmas without political prisoners
On Friday, hundreds of Venezuelans congregated in plazas across seven states. In Caracas, a large table — festooned with cheery Christmas decorations, vibrant flowers and utensils — simulated how a family’s dining room might look during the holidays. But the seats, marked with the names of political prisoners, remained empty.
“Christmas is such an important and significant celebration in Venezuela, so we’re calling for a holiday without political prisoners, for their empty seats to be filled,” said Victor Navarro, an activist and former political prisoner.
“We can’t stop advocating for these people, because the worst thing that can happen to a political prisoner is to be forgotten,” said Antony Vegas, another former political prisoner.
John Álvarez’s mother was among the participants in Caracas. Just like she did in October, she began to pray in the plaza.
This time it wasn’t “gracias, Dios mío.” It was “por favor, Dios” — please, God.