Twenty-three years locked away for crimes many believe they never committed
Tres hombres que pasaron más de dos décadas en prisiones venezolanas por hechos ocurridos en abril de 2002 fueron liberados el martes por la noche, convirtiéndose en los presos políticos con mayor tiempo de reclusión en la historia reciente del país. Su liberación, anunciada sin previo aviso como parte de una amnistía más amplia que abarca a unos trescientos reclusos, llega después de que organizaciones de derechos humanos documentaran durante años lo que describen como un proceso judicial fabricado para silenciar testigos incómodos. En el espacio entre la justicia proclamada y la justicia ejercida, estas historias revelan cuánto puede costar a un ser humano la inconveniencia política de haber estado en el lugar equivocado en el momento equivocado.
- Erasmo Bolívar, Héctor Rovaín y Luis Molina salieron en libertad tras 23 años de reclusión, sin que nadie fuera notificado con anticipación y sin que se conociera su estado de salud.
- Organizaciones de derechos humanos llevan décadas denunciando que el juicio que los condenó fue el más largo y procesalmente viciado de la historia judicial venezolana, con pruebas exculpatorias sistemáticamente excluidas.
- El presidente de la Asamblea Nacional, Jorge Rodríguez, anunció horas antes la liberación de aproximadamente 300 presos políticos bajo criterios humanitarios, aunque la caracterización oficial choca con el historial documentado del caso.
- Al cierre de la noticia, se desconocía si los tres hombres quedaban completamente libres o sujetos a algún tipo de supervisión, una opacidad que refleja la ausencia de transparencia procesal que marcó todo el caso.
Tres exoficiales de la extinta Policía Metropolitana de Caracas salieron de prisión el martes por la noche después de veintitrés años de reclusión. Erasmo Bolívar, Héctor Rovaín y Luis Molina habían sido encarcelados desde 2002, convirtiéndose, según los registros de organizaciones de derechos humanos, en los presos políticos con mayor tiempo de detención en Venezuela. Su liberación no fue anunciada de antemano: la organización Realidad Helicoide la comunicó a través de redes sociales una vez consumada.
Los tres fueron condenados en 2009 a treinta años de prisión —la pena máxima— por su supuesta participación en los hechos del 11 de abril de 2002, una fecha que marcó uno de los episodios más violentos y controvertidos de la historia política venezolana reciente. En el mismo proceso fueron sentenciados otros dos oficiales y el exfuncionario Iván Simonovis. Abogados defensores, familiares y organismos de derechos humanos sostuvieron durante más de dos décadas que el juicio fue un proceso político, que las pruebas exculpatorias fueron excluidas de manera sistemática y que el caso sirvió para fabricar culpables en un capítulo que ciertos sectores del poder preferían cerrar a su conveniencia.
La liberación se produjo horas después de que Jorge Rodríguez, presidente de la Asamblea Nacional, anunciara que alrededor de trescientos presos políticos recibirían medidas de libertad bajo criterios humanitarios. La justificación oficial, sin embargo, resulta difícil de conciliar con el historial documentado de este caso en particular. Al momento de publicarse la noticia, no había información sobre el estado físico de los tres hombres tras dos décadas de reclusión, ni sobre las condiciones que podrían regir su libertad. Esa opacidad, en sí misma, habla del modo en que se desarrolló todo el proceso. Lo que sí es cierto es que tres hombres que pasaron su vida adulta entre rejas han cruzado finalmente esa puerta.
Three former officers of Caracas's now-defunct Metropolitan Police walked out of Venezuelan prison on Tuesday night after twenty-three years behind bars. Erasmo Bolívar, Héctor Rovaín, and Luis Molina had been locked away since 2002, making them the longest-held political prisoners in the country by the accounting of human rights monitors. Their release came without advance warning to the public, announced after the fact by the organization Realidad Helicoide through social media.
The men were convicted in 2009 under charges of complicity in qualified homicide, sentenced to the maximum thirty years in prison for their alleged roles in the events of April 11, 2002—a date that marks a pivotal and violent moment in Venezuelan history. They were not alone in that conviction. Two other officers, Henry Vivas and Lázaro Forero, and a third man, Iván Simonovis, received identical sentences in the same proceeding. That trial, legal experts have argued, stands as the longest and most procedurally compromised in Venezuelan judicial history.
For more than two decades, the men's lawyers, their families, and human rights organizations mounted a consistent challenge to the conviction. They documented what they characterized as systematic exclusion of evidence that could have cleared the defendants, and they described the entire process as a political trial engineered to manufacture scapegoats. The case became shorthand among rights advocates for how the Venezuelan justice system could be weaponized against political opponents and inconvenient witnesses.
The timing of the release is significant. Hours before the three men were freed, Jorge Rodríguez, president of the National Assembly, announced that roughly three hundred political prisoners would receive measures of liberty. He framed the decision in humanitarian terms, asserting that those included had been linked to crimes that were supposedly proven. But the characterization sits uneasily with the historical record of this particular case. Human rights defenders have long held that the April 2002 convictions represent not justice but persecution—a way of closing a chapter that powerful figures preferred closed.
As of the moment the news broke, no information had been released about the physical condition of the three men after two decades in custody, nor about what restrictions or conditions might govern their release. Whether they walk away entirely free or remain under some form of supervision remains unclear. The absence of such details is itself telling—a sign that the process unfolded without the transparency or procedural clarity that might accompany an ordinary legal proceeding. What is certain is that three men who spent their adult lives in prison for crimes many believe they did not commit are now outside those walls, and Venezuela's longest chapter of political imprisonment has finally closed.
Notable Quotes
The process ignored exculpatory evidence and operated as a political trial designed to manufacture scapegoats— Defense lawyers, families, and human rights organizations (paraphrased from systematic denunciations over two decades)
The decision was justified under humanitarian criteria and involved individuals linked to supposedly proven crimes— Jorge Rodríguez, president of the National Assembly
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does the April 2002 date matter so much? What actually happened that day?
April 2002 was a coup attempt—a pivotal, violent moment when the government fell and then was restored. These officers were caught in the machinery of what came after, blamed for deaths that occurred during the chaos. The trial became a way to assign responsibility, but the evidence was thin and the process was compromised.
So they were scapegoats for something larger?
That's what the human rights groups have argued for twenty years. The trial ignored exculpatory evidence, operated more like a political settling of accounts than a legal proceeding. The maximum sentence—thirty years—was handed down in 2009, seven years after the events themselves.
And they've been in prison the entire time since then?
Yes. Twenty-three years total from 2002 onward. They became the longest-held political prisoners in the country—a symbol of how the system could be used against people.
Why release them now? What changed?
The government announced it as part of a humanitarian gesture, freeing roughly three hundred political prisoners. But there's no indication the evidence against these three men was newly examined or that anyone acknowledged the trial was flawed. It reads more like a political decision than a legal one.
Do we know what their lives look like now?
Not yet. No details about their health, their mental state, what restrictions they're under. They walked out into a country they barely recognize, after spending their prime years locked away for crimes many believe they never committed.