I thought the building was going to fall on top of me
On the evening of Venezuela's national holiday, the earth beneath Caracas broke twice in less than a minute — a 7.2 followed swiftly by a 7.5 — turning a day of historical celebration into one of modern catastrophe. Buildings fell in the capital, thousands poured into the streets, and a government already navigating extraordinary political upheaval found itself facing a disaster whose full dimensions remain, for now, unknowable. The USGS places the probability of mass casualties in the tens of thousands, a figure that hangs over the city like an aftershock yet to arrive. In the long story of nations built on fault lines — geological and political alike — Venezuela now faces a reckoning that will test not just its infrastructure, but its capacity to hold together.
- Two earthquakes struck 39 seconds apart on a national holiday, hitting a densely populated capital at the precise moment when more people than usual were home.
- At least two buildings in Caracas collapsed entirely, rescue workers pulled 18 survivors from the rubble, and hundreds of others remained trapped or unaccounted for.
- The USGS issued a chilling probabilistic warning: a 44% chance of more than 10,000 deaths and a 30% chance the toll could surpass 100,000.
- Acting President Delcy Rodríguez declared a state of emergency and appointed a general to lead the response, but offered no casualty figures and appealed instead for national unity.
- Petrol supplies were cut, aftershock fear kept residents from returning home, and emergency centers were hastily established in public plazas to coordinate rescue and relief.
On the evening of June 24th — Venezuela's national holiday marking Simón Bolívar's 1821 victory at Carabobo — two earthquakes struck within 39 seconds of each other. The first measured 7.2 magnitude, centered near San Felipe in Yaracuy state; the second, more powerful at 7.5, followed before the ground had stilled. Because the country was observing a public holiday, more people than usual were home when the shaking began. The tremors were felt as far as Bogotá.
In Caracas, residents flooded into the streets in panic. A BBC Mundo journalist on the seventh floor of an apartment building wedged herself between a doorframe and a stone wall, certain the building would fall, and only evacuated when neighbors called out from below. Social media filled with videos of the chaos — furniture crashing, windows warping, the visible terror of people who did not know if they would survive.
At least two buildings in the Chacao municipality collapsed entirely. The local mayor reported 18 people rescued alive from the debris, with more than 500 emergency workers deployed across the affected zones. Residents searching for missing family members were directed to two central plazas, where officials established emergency centers offering information, water, and shelter.
Acting President Delcy Rodríguez — leading Venezuela since her predecessor Nicolás Maduro was seized by U.S. forces in January — declared a state of emergency and appointed a general to oversee the response. She offered condolences but gave no casualty figures, calling instead for national unity.
The USGS offered a stark statistical picture: a 44% probability of more than 10,000 deaths, and a 30% chance the toll could exceed 100,000. These were not predictions but estimates grounded in magnitude, population density, and building standards. Petrol supplies were cut. Thousands refused to return home for fear of aftershocks. People were still calling for help from beneath the rubble. What had begun as a day of national celebration had become a catastrophe whose true cost would not be known for days.
On the evening of June 24th, Venezuela's national holiday, two earthquakes struck within 39 seconds of each other. The first, measuring 7.2 magnitude, centered near San Felipe in Yaracuy state about 20 kilometers from Caracas. Before the ground had finished moving, a second, more powerful quake—7.5 magnitude—followed. The timing was brutal: it was 6:04 p.m. local time, when on any other day the capital would have been gridlocked with rush-hour traffic. But because the country was observing the anniversary of Simón Bolívar's 1821 victory at Carabobo, more people than usual were home when the shaking began.
The tremors were felt as far away as Bogotá, Colombia. In Caracas, residents poured into the streets in panic. Videos circulating on social media captured the chaos—men trying desperately to steady a cabinet full of china as everything around them crashed to the floor, windows flexing and warping, the visible terror of people who believed their buildings might collapse on top of them. Nicole Kolster, a journalist working for BBC Mundo, was on the seventh floor of an apartment building in Palos Grandes when the quake hit. She wedged herself between a doorframe and a stone wall, the strongest shelter she could find, convinced the building would fall. She stayed there until neighbors shouted for everyone to evacuate to the street.
By the time the shaking stopped, at least two buildings in the Chacao municipality—part of greater Caracas—had completely collapsed. The Chacao mayor, Gustavo Duque Saez, reported that rescue workers had pulled 18 people alive from the rubble. More than 500 emergency workers were deployed to the affected areas, searching through debris and calling for survivors. Saez acknowledged that beyond the two buildings that had fully collapsed, many others had suffered severe structural damage. He directed residents searching for missing family members to two central plazas—Plaza Altamira and Plaza Los Palos Grandes—where officials had established emergency centers to distribute information, water, and shelter.
Acting President Delcy Rodríguez addressed the nation hours after the quakes. She has been leading Venezuela on an interim basis since January, when her predecessor Nicolás Maduro was seized by U.S. forces and taken to New York to face trial on drug-trafficking charges. Standing alongside Interior Minister Diosdado Cabello and her brother Jorge Rodríguez, who heads the National Assembly, she declared a state of emergency and appointed a general to oversee the response. She offered condolences to those who had lost loved ones but provided no casualty figures. Her primary message was an appeal for national unity.
The full scale of the disaster remained unclear in the hours after the quakes. The U.S. Geological Survey issued a stark assessment: there was a 44 percent probability that more than 10,000 people had died, and a 30 percent chance that fatalities exceeded 100,000. These were not predictions but statistical estimates based on the magnitude of the quakes, the density of the affected area, and building construction standards. Thousands of residents, terrified of aftershocks, refused to return to their homes even if they appeared structurally sound. Petrol supplies had been cut off. People were calling for help from beneath collapsed buildings. The Interior Minister urged all residents to evacuate their homes as a precaution. What had been a national holiday celebrating independence had become a catastrophe, and the true human cost would not be known for days.
Citações Notáveis
In Chacao, no one is alone, and we won't move from here until every resident is rescued.— Gustavo Duque Saez, mayor of Chacao
It's the strongest quake I've ever felt in my life.— Nicole Kolster, BBC Mundo journalist
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why did the second earthquake matter more than the first, if they were only 39 seconds apart?
Because the second one was stronger—7.5 versus 7.2—and it hit ground that was already destabilized. The first quake weakened structures; the second one finished them. That's how you get complete collapses instead of cracks.
The timing on a national holiday seems almost cruel.
It is. On a normal Wednesday at 6 p.m., thousands of people would have been in cars, in offices, in transit. Instead they were home. That probably saved lives in some cases, kept people out of collapsing office buildings. But it also meant more people were trapped inside their own apartments when the shaking started.
The USGS estimates seem almost incomprehensible—up to 100,000 deaths. How do they arrive at a number like that?
They're not guessing. They're running models based on magnitude, epicenter location, population density, and what they know about Venezuelan building codes. A 7.5 quake in a densely populated capital with older construction is catastrophic. The 30 percent figure means there's a real statistical chance it could be that bad.
What strikes you about the acting president's response?
She did what you're supposed to do—declared an emergency, appointed someone to lead the response, called for unity. But she gave no numbers, no timeline, no sense of what comes next. In a moment like that, people need information more than they need appeals for calm.
The journalist wedged in a doorway—was that the right instinct?
It's what you're taught: get to an interior wall, away from windows and exterior walls that might collapse. Whether it actually saved her life, we won't know. But the fact that she thought the building was going to fall on her tells you how violent the shaking was.