The community cannot continue to be a target of war
En la mañana del 9 de octubre, un líder social y su hijo adolescente fueron asesinados en el municipio de Totoró, Cauca, atrapados en el fuego cruzado entre el Ejército Nacional y grupos armados ilegales que convirtieron el territorio indígena de Paniquitá en campo de batalla. Willer Gallego Mazabuel, excandidato al concejo municipal y figura reconocida por su compromiso comunitario, y su hijo Daniel Felipe de dieciséis años, no llegaron a su destino. Su muerte no fue un accidente de la guerra: fue la consecuencia de un conflicto que ha borrado la línea entre combatiente y civil, dejando a comunidades enteras atrapadas en una lógica de violencia que no eligieron y de la que no pueden escapar.
- Un padre y su hijo de dieciséis años fueron interceptados, intimidados y asesinados mientras se dirigían a su propia tierra, en medio de combates entre el ELN, disidencias de las FARC y el Ejército.
- El enfrentamiento armado confinó familias en sus hogares, cerró escuelas y convirtió barrios rurales como El Diviso y La Primavera en zonas de guerra activa durante horas.
- Las autoridades indígenas de Paniquitá advirtieron que la escalada de hostilidades amenaza no solo vidas, sino la existencia cultural y espiritual de sus territorios ancestrales.
- El CRIC exigió medidas urgentes al gobierno nacional, mientras organismos humanitarios comenzaron a evaluar si las familias debían ser evacuadas al casco urbano.
- La violencia se extendió a municipios vecinos: en El Tambo, un carro bomba hirió gravemente a una mujer civil; en Toribío, grupos armados atacaron una posición militar.
- El alcalde de Totoró declaró duelo municipal y llamó a los actores armados a respetar la vida civil, una súplica que revela la impotencia de las instituciones locales ante un conflicto que opera con su propia lógica.
El 9 de octubre, Willer Gallego Mazabuel y su hijo Daniel Felipe de dieciséis años salieron hacia su propiedad en Totoró, Cauca. No llegaron. En la zona rural de El Diviso, dentro del territorio indígena de Paniquitá, fueron interceptados por hombres armados en medio de combates entre el Ejército Nacional, el ELN y disidencias de las FARC. Padre e hijo murieron en el lugar.
Gallego no era un desconocido. Había sido candidato al concejo municipal, dirigía una empresa de transporte y ejercía como abogado y agricultor. El alcalde Jorge Luis Pizo Andela lo describió como una persona comprometida con su comunidad. "Eran personas trabajadoras que se encontraron en una situación que no tenía nada que ver con ellos", dijo. El municipio se declaró en duelo.
Desde la madrugada de ese mismo día, los enfrentamientos armados habían paralizado la región. Familias confinadas, escuelas cerradas, aeronaves militares sobrevolando veredas. Las autoridades indígenas de Paniquitá advirtieron que la violencia amenazaba "la vida, la integridad y la existencia cultural y espiritual" de su territorio. El CRIC condenó el doble homicidio y exigió al gobierno nacional medidas de protección urgentes.
El Ejército reportó la muerte de José Manuel Ocampo López, alias "Espagueti", señalado como coordinador financiero del Frente de Guerra Suroccidental del ELN. La violencia también alcanzó otros municipios: en El Tambo, un carro bomba hirió gravemente a Andry Yuleiby Pino Gómez, esposa del presidente de la junta de acción comunal local; en Toribío, grupos armados atacaron una posición militar sin dejar heridos.
Lo que queda es la imagen de una región donde la distinción entre combatiente y civil ha dejado de tener sentido. Territorios ancestrales convertidos en escenarios de guerra. Un alcalde pidiendo respeto por la vida civil a quienes no escuchan. Y dos personas que simplemente iban a su tierra.
On the morning of October 9th, Willer Gallego Mazabuel and his sixteen-year-old son Daniel Felipe set out toward their property in the municipality of Totoró, in eastern Cauca. They never arrived. Caught between the Ejército Nacional and illegal armed groups locked in combat across the indigenous territory of Paniquitá, father and son were intercepted by armed men, intimidated, and shot. Both died at the scene in the rural area known as El Diviso.
Gallego was not a random casualty. He had run for municipal council, managed a transport company called Coototrans, and in recent years worked as a lawyer and farmer. The mayor of Totoró, Jorge Luis Pizo Andela, described him as a person recognized for his commitment to the community. "We are devastated," Pizo said. "These were hardworking people who found themselves in a situation that had nothing to do with them. We call on armed actors and the Public Force to respect the lives of civilians." The municipality declared itself in mourning.
The killings occurred within a larger collapse of order. Since the early morning hours of October 9th, the ELN and FARC dissidents had been fighting the military across multiple rural areas. The combat was intense—gunfire, rifle bursts, military aircraft circling overhead. Two neighborhoods, El Diviso and La Primavera, became active war zones. Families were confined to their homes. Schools shut down. The indigenous authorities of Paniquitá issued a statement warning that the escalating hostilities threatened "the life, integrity, cultural and spiritual existence" of their territory. They noted that armed men were moving through rural sectors like Santa Bárbara, turning ancestral lands into battlegrounds.
The regional indigenous council, known as CRIC, condemned the double homicide and demanded urgent protective measures from the national government. "The community cannot continue to be a target of war between armed groups that disregard autonomy and the right to life in ancestral territories," the organization said. Humanitarian agencies began assessing whether families would need to be evacuated to the municipal center.
The military reported one significant casualty on its side: José Manuel Ocampo López, known as Demetrio or "Espagueti," described as a financial coordinator for the ELN's Southwestern War Front. Soldiers recovered weapons, ammunition, grenades, armbands, propaganda materials, and cash from the location. According to military statements, Ocampo had participated in attacks against the armed forces and in extortion schemes targeting merchants across Cauca and Huila departments. His death, the military claimed, would disrupt the ELN's financial and logistical coordination in the region.
The violence did not stop there. Hours earlier, in the nearby municipality of El Tambo, a vehicle loaded with explosives detonated near a police substation in the hamlet of El Crucero Pandigüando. A woman named Andry Yuleiby Pino Gómez, wife of the local community action board president, was struck by shrapnel and suffered a serious head wound. The blast sent panic through the neighborhood. Almost simultaneously, in the municipality of Toribío, armed groups attacked a military position, though no one was injured in that incident.
What emerges from these hours is a portrait of a region where the distinction between combatant and civilian has become meaningless. A man and his teenage son traveling to their own land. A woman standing near a police station. Families confined indoors. Schools empty. The indigenous territories that have existed for centuries now serve as terrain for wars that their inhabitants did not choose and cannot escape. The mayor's plea—that armed actors respect civilian life—carries the weight of someone watching his community be consumed by a conflict that operates according to its own logic, indifferent to appeals for restraint.
Citas Notables
These were hardworking people who found themselves in a situation that had nothing to do with them. We call on armed actors and the Public Force to respect the lives of civilians.— Jorge Luis Pizo Andela, mayor of Totoró
The community cannot continue to be a target of war between armed groups that disregard autonomy and the right to life in ancestral territories.— CRIC (Consejo Regional Indígena del Cauca)
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does it matter that Gallego was a social leader rather than just any farmer?
Because it signals something about the targeting. He was visible, organized, connected to the community. When someone like that dies in crossfire, it raises questions about whether the crossfire was truly random.
The source says they were "intercepted by armed men" before being shot. That's different from stray bullets.
Exactly. They weren't caught in the middle of a firefight between two military forces. They were stopped, intimidated, and executed. The framing of "crossfire" in the headline obscures what may have been a deliberate killing.
But the military killed an ELN financial coordinator the same day. Doesn't that suggest real combat was happening?
It does. Both things are true. There were genuine military operations against armed groups. But within that chaos, civilians were also being targeted or killed with impunity. The armed groups use the cover of combat to settle scores or eliminate people they see as threats.
What about the confinement of families? How does that change the picture?
It means the violence isn't contained to a few hours of fighting. Families are trapped in their homes, unable to work, unable to move. Schools close. The territory becomes uninhabitable. That's the real cost—not just the deaths, but the suspension of ordinary life.
The indigenous council says this threatens their "cultural and spiritual existence." That's strong language.
It is. They're saying this isn't just about security or crime. It's about the survival of their way of life. If families keep fleeing, if young people leave, if the territory becomes too dangerous to inhabit, the culture dies even if the people survive.
Where does this end?
That's the question no one can answer. The military killed a financial coordinator, but the ELN still operates. Families are being assessed for evacuation, but to where? The violence has become the normal state of things.