What we have suffered, we have suffered for the Venezuelan people
Después de casi una década de encarcelamiento, el General Ramón Lozada Saavedra salió libre la noche del 26 de mayo frente al Palacio de Justicia de Caracas, envuelto en la bandera venezolana y rodeado de familiares y defensores de derechos humanos. Su liberación, vinculada al llamado caso Paracaidistas, llega cuando su cuerpo ya carga con las marcas de años de cautiverio: diabetes, hipertensión y otras enfermedades crónicas que el encierro agravó sin piedad. En la historia larga de los presos políticos, su salida es tanto un alivio como un testimonio del precio que cobra el tiempo perdido sobre la carne y el espíritu.
- Un hombre que entró a prisión en plena salud emerge una década después con el cuerpo deteriorado por enfermedades crónicas que el sistema carcelario dejó avanzar sin tratamiento adecuado.
- Los últimos cuatro años de su detención transcurrieron en un hospital militar, no como concesión humanitaria, sino porque su estado físico ya no admitía otra opción.
- Afuera del Palacio de Justicia, su hijo y defensores del Foro Penal aguardaban un reencuentro cargado de años de angustia, gestiones y la determinación de no dejar que el caso cayera en el olvido.
- Con voz firme y bandera venezolana sobre los hombros, Lozada habló de fe, de cambio y de un sufrimiento que dijo haber asumido voluntariamente por su pueblo.
- La libertad llega con urgencia médica inmediata: una batería completa de evaluaciones para estabilizar condiciones que una década de negligencia institucional permitió enraizarse y complicarse.
La noche del 26 de mayo, el General Ramón Antonio Lozada Saavedra cruzó las puertas del Palacio de Justicia de Caracas y encontró, por primera vez en casi diez años, los brazos de su familia. Su detención, enmarcada en el caso Paracaidistas, había consumido una porción entera de su vida y dejado huellas visibles en su cuerpo: diabetes, hipertensión y otras enfermedades crónicas que el ambiente carcelario no hizo sino profundizar.
Los últimos cuatro años los pasó en un hospital militar, no por consideración especial, sino porque su salud había colapsado al punto de que la celda convencional ya no era viable. Era el reconocimiento tardío de un deterioro que avanzó durante años sin la atención que merecía.
Cuando habló ante la prensa, sus palabras fueron pocas pero densas. Dijo haber sufrido por el pueblo venezolano y afirmó que lo volvería a hacer. Su hijo, a su lado, apenas podía contener la emoción acumulada de años viendo a su padre desmoronarse detrás de muros. Agradeció al Foro Penal y a los periodistas que mantuvieron vivo el caso cuando el silencio habría sido más fácil.
Ahora comienza otra batalla, más silenciosa pero igualmente urgente: reconstruir la salud de un hombre al que el Estado mantuvo enfermo durante demasiado tiempo. Las evaluaciones médicas integrales son la prioridad inmediata, el primer paso para reparar, en la medida de lo posible, lo que una década de encierro deshizo.
On the evening of May 26th, outside the Palace of Justice in Caracas, a man emerged into the arms of his family after nearly ten years behind bars. General Ramón Antonio Lozada Saavedra, a National Guard officer, walked out wrapped in the Venezuelan flag, visibly shaken by the moment. His release marked the end of a detention tied to what became known as the Paracaidistas case—a legal proceeding that had consumed a decade of his life.
Lozada had spent the final four years of his imprisonment in a military hospital rather than a conventional cell, a transfer necessitated by the collapse of his health. Diabetes and hypertension had taken hold during his confinement, joined by other chronic conditions that the prison environment had only worsened. The move to hospital care was not a mercy so much as a recognition that his body was failing under the weight of captivity.
Waiting for him outside the courthouse were human rights defenders and members of his family, including his son, who had carried the weight of his father's absence through all those years. When Lozada spoke to the gathered press, his words were brief but carried the force of someone who had endured something most cannot imagine. He spoke of faith, of change coming, of suffering borne for Venezuela and Venezuelans. "What we have suffered, we have suffered for the Venezuelan people," he said, his voice steady despite the emotion visible in his face. "We will suffer it again if necessary. Always. For the Venezuelan people."
His son, standing beside him, could barely contain the emotion of the moment. He described the ordeal his family had lived through—years of anguish watching his father's physical deterioration, the helplessness of witnessing a parent's health crumble behind walls. But he also spoke with gratitude toward those who had kept the case alive in the public eye: Foro Penal, the human rights organization that had tracked his father's detention closely, and the journalists who had refused to let the story disappear.
What came next was urgent and practical. Lozada would need immediate and comprehensive medical evaluation. The diseases that had taken root during his imprisonment had gone largely untreated, allowed to deepen and complicate. His son confirmed that the priority now was stabilizing his condition, running the full battery of tests that a decade of neglect had made necessary. The general's body would need to be reassembled, piece by piece, in the months ahead.
Notable Quotes
That we have suffered, we have suffered for the Venezuelan people. We will suffer it again if necessary. Always. For the Venezuelan people.— General Ramón Lozada Saavedra, upon his release
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does a military officer's release after ten years matter enough to stop and read about?
Because it's not just about one man. Lozada's case is a window into what happened to people who fell afoul of power in Venezuela—how the system swallowed them, how it broke them physically, and what it took to get them back out.
But he was convicted of something, wasn't he? The Paracaidistas case—what was that about?
The source doesn't detail the charges themselves, only that he was detained for nearly a decade connected to that case. What matters here is the condition he was in when he came out—diabetes, hypertension, chronic illnesses that developed or worsened in prison. That's the real story.
His son mentioned Foro Penal specifically. Why single them out?
Because organizations like that keep cases from disappearing. They document, they pressure, they remind the world that a person is still there. Without that sustained attention, Lozada might have remained forgotten.
What struck you most about what he said when he walked out?
That he framed his suffering as something done for Venezuela, not to him. Even broken, even after a decade, he was still thinking about the country, not his own vindication. That's either profound faith or the only way he could make sense of what happened to him.
What happens to him now?
Medical care, first and foremost. His body has to be rebuilt. But there's also the question of what a man does after ten years vanish from his life. That's the story we won't see in the headlines.