They killed my son. They never let me see him.
En los últimos días de su vida, Carmen Teresa Navas logró lo que el Estado venezolano había intentado negarle durante dieciséis meses: la verdad sobre su hijo. Víctor Hugo Quero, detenido el 1 de enero de 2025 y fallecido en custodia estatal el 24 de julio, fue enterrado en secreto en una fosa común mientras su madre de ochenta y dos años recorría prisiones y tribunales sin respuesta. Cuando finalmente pudo identificar sus restos el 7 de mayo de 2026, el costo de esa búsqueda ya había consumido todo lo que le quedaba: diez días después, Carmen también murió. Su historia no es solo la de una madre y un hijo, sino la de un sistema que convierte el duelo en un laberinto y la verdad en un privilegio que llega demasiado tarde.
- Víctor Hugo Quero fue arrestado en una plaza comercial de Caracas el primer día de 2025 y murió en prisión siete meses después, sin que su familia fuera notificada.
- El régimen ocultó su muerte durante casi un año: en octubre de 2025, la Defensoría del Pueblo aún afirmaba que seguía detenido, tres meses después de su fallecimiento.
- Carmen Navas, de ochenta y dos años y con salud deteriorada, no dejó de buscar: recorrió cárceles, golpeó puertas de tribunales y exigió respuestas mientras el gobierno negaba haber recibido contacto alguno de su familia.
- El 7 de mayo de 2026, tras la exhumación de la fosa común, Carmen pudo identificar los restos de su hijo, darle sepultura y hablar ante las cámaras con una mezcla de dolor y llamado a la compasión por los presos que aún permanecen en las sombras.
- Diez días después de cerrar esa búsqueda, Carmen murió, dejando su caso como símbolo del costo humano de la detención política en Venezuela y de las familias que aún esperan saber si sus seres queridos están vivos.
Carmen Teresa Navas tenía ochenta y dos años cuando murió el 17 de mayo de 2026. Diez días antes había identificado el cuerpo de su hijo. Esos diez días fueron todo lo que le quedó.
Víctor Hugo Quero, de cincuenta y un años, fue detenido el 1 de enero de 2025 en una plaza comercial de Caracas mientras compraba dulces. Lo llevaron a la cárcel del Rodeo, donde enfermó. Murió el 24 de julio de 2025 en un hospital, bajo custodia del Estado. El gobierno lo enterró en una fosa común sin avisar a su familia.
Durante casi un año, el régimen mantuvo su muerte en secreto. En octubre de 2025, la Defensoría del Pueblo venezolana afirmó que Víctor seguía recluido en el Rodeo 1, tres meses después de que ya estuviera muerto. El Ministerio de Prisiones alegó que el recluso no había dejado datos de contacto familiar y que nadie había solicitado visitarlo. Era falso. Su madre llevaba meses buscándolo por todas partes.
Carmen recorrió prisiones y tribunales. Su salud se fue deteriorando, pero no se detuvo. El 7 de mayo de 2026, tras la exhumación de la fosa, pudo finalmente ver los restos de su hijo. Organizó un funeral privado y lo trasladó a un cementerio. Aun en ese momento de desolación, encontró fuerzas para hablar: "Los jóvenes encerrados en esas prisiones, en esas celdas subterráneas, tengan misericordia y compasión de esos muchachos", dijo ante las cámaras de la periodista Maryorin Méndez.
Diez días después, Carmen murió. La líder opositora María Corina Machado dijo que ese día no había muerto solo una madre, sino "una mujer que convirtió el dolor en valentía y la desesperación en denuncia". Su caso se suma al de otras familias que aún buscan a sus seres queridos detenidos bajo el gobierno de Delcy Rodríguez, sin saber si están vivos, y sin certeza de que alguien les dirá la verdad.
Carmen Teresa Navas was eighty-two years old when she died on May 17, 2026. Ten days earlier, she had finally identified her son's body.
For sixteen months, she had searched. She went to prisons. She went to courts. She demanded answers from the Venezuelan government about where her son was, what had happened to him, whether he was alive. Her health declined as the months passed, but she did not stop looking.
Víctor Hugo Quero was fifty-one years old. On January 1, 2025, he was arrested in a shopping plaza in Caracas while buying candy. He was taken to the Rodeo prison, where he became ill. He died on July 24, 2025, in a hospital while in state custody. The government buried him in a shared grave without notifying his family.
The regime kept his death secret for nearly a year. In October 2025, the Venezuelan Public Defender's Office, citing information from the country's prosecutor, stated that Víctor Hugo Quero Navas remained detained at Rodeo 1—three months after he had already died. The Ministry of Prisons later claimed that Víctor had provided no family contact information and that no relatives had come to request a formal visit. The explanation was false. His mother had been searching everywhere.
On May 7, 2026, Carmen Teresa was finally allowed to identify her son's remains after they were exhumed from the mass grave. She had his body moved to a cemetery and held a private funeral. The autopsy was conducted as part of an investigation opened by the Public Ministry into his death.
Ten days later, she was gone. The search that had consumed her final year and a half had ended, but the cost was total. In a video recorded by journalist Maryorin Méndez, who had followed her case, Carmen spoke with visible anguish: "I have nothing to say, because they killed my son. They never let me see him. The pain of a mother—I would not wish it on anyone." Even after identifying his body, she found the strength to speak for others. "The young people locked in those prisons, in those underground cells—have mercy and compassion on those children," she said.
Opposition leader María Corina Machado responded to Carmen's death by saying that more than a mother had died that day. "A woman who turned pain into courage and desperation into denunciation has been extinguished," she said.
Carmen Navas's death underscores the human toll of Venezuela's system of political detention and the government's documented practice of concealing deaths in custody. Her son was arrested, imprisoned, died, and buried in secrecy. His mother spent her final months fighting to know what had happened to him, only to learn the truth days before her own death. The case remains one among many: other families continue to search for relatives detained under the Delcy Rodríguez government, uncertain whether their loved ones are alive or dead, and whether the authorities will ever tell them the truth.
Citas Notables
I have nothing to say, because they killed my son. They never let me see him. The pain of a mother—I would not wish it on anyone.— Carmen Teresa Navas, in a video recorded by journalist Maryorin Méndez
A woman who turned pain into courage and desperation into denunciation has been extinguished.— Opposition leader María Corina Machado, responding to Carmen's death
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why did it take so long for the government to acknowledge that Víctor Hugo had died?
The official story was that he hadn't provided family contact information and that no one had come to claim him. But his mother had been searching everywhere—prisons, courts, everywhere. The real reason seems to be that acknowledging deaths in custody creates problems for the regime.
So they just buried him and said nothing?
Yes. In a shared grave. For nearly a year, while his mother was still looking for him, the government's own Public Defender's Office was saying he was still alive in prison. That was in October, three months after he'd already died.
How did Carmen finally find out?
The government eventually confirmed his death in May 2026. She was allowed to identify his body and give him a proper burial. But by then she was already very ill from the stress and the searching.
And she died ten days later?
Yes. Ten days after she buried her son, she was gone. The search had taken everything from her.
Did she say anything in those final days?
She spoke to a journalist about the pain, about not being allowed to see her son while he was alive. But even devastated, she thought about the other families. She asked the government to have mercy on the young people still locked in those cells.
What does her death mean for the other families searching?
It's a warning. It shows what this system does—not just to the prisoners, but to the people who love them. Carmen's case is documented, it's known. How many other mothers are still searching in silence?