They are shooting us, the guards and the wardens
In the early hours of a Sunday morning, roughly 1,300 inmates at Barinas prison in western Venezuela climbed to the rooftops, set mattresses alight, and raised banners reading 'SOS' — a desperate appeal from within a system long accused of swallowing its captives in silence. What followed, according to witnesses and circulating video, was not negotiation but gunfire, as guards allegedly turned on those they were charged to hold. The uprising at Barinas is not merely a prison story; it is a mirror held up to a nation navigating profound political rupture, asking who bears the cost of institutional violence when the world is finally watching.
- Inmates set rooftop fires and hung SOS banners to force visibility onto conditions they say include torture, clothing confiscation, and a total ban on family visits.
- Prison staff allegedly opened fire on protesters who claimed to be demonstrating peacefully, with at least one inmate filmed displaying a bullet wound to the chest.
- Outside the gates, desperate family members clashed with National Guard riot units, while relatives reported hearing screams and explosions from inside — and some had not heard from loved ones in weeks.
- The Venezuelan Observatory of Prisons is compiling documented evidence of the incident to submit to international human rights bodies, as global scrutiny of Venezuelan detention practices reaches a new intensity.
- The protest unfolds against a backdrop of sweeping political upheaval — including U.S. military action in Caracas and the fall of Maduro — leaving Venezuela's prison system exposed to unprecedented international examination.
On a Sunday morning, inmates at Barinas prison in western Venezuela climbed onto the roof and set mattresses on fire. Smoke rose above the facility some 310 miles from Caracas as prisoners hung banners reading 'SOS' and chanted against torture, demanding the removal of their director. Their grievances were layered: confiscated clothing, banned family visits, and what they described as systematic abuse carried out under the director's watch.
The protest turned violent when prison staff allegedly opened fire on the demonstrators. In video documented by the Venezuelan Observatory of Prisons, one inmate displayed a bullet wound to his chest and appealed directly to the camera: 'We want justice. They are shooting us.' The full number of casualties remained unclear, as authorities issued no immediate statement.
Outside the walls, family members gathered and clashed with National Guard officers carrying riot shields. Moments after the confrontation, relatives reported hearing screams and explosions from within. Yelitza Arrollo, whose son is held at Barinas, told journalists she had not been able to reach him since May 8th. 'They are suffering,' she said. 'We want the director removed.'
The uprising at Barinas is part of a larger reckoning with Venezuela's detention system. In recent months, the country has undergone dramatic political transformation — including U.S. military action in Caracas and the capture of former president Nicolás Maduro — and an interim government has released hundreds classified as political prisoners. Against that backdrop, the Venezuelan Observatory of Prisons is now assembling a documented record of the Barinas events for international human rights bodies, as the world's attention to Venezuelan detention practices grows harder to deflect.
On Sunday morning, inmates at Barinas prison in western Venezuela climbed onto the roof and set mattresses ablaze. Smoke rose in thick columns above the facility, located roughly 310 miles from Caracas, as men and women inside called for the removal of their director. They hung banners reading "SOS" and chanted against torture. What began as a protest over conditions—confiscated clothing, banned family visits, allegations of systematic abuse—escalated when prison staff opened fire.
In a video circulated by the Venezuelan Observatory of Prisons, a local human rights organization, one inmate displayed a bullet wound in his chest. "We want justice," he said into the camera. "They are shooting us, the guards and the wardens." The prisoners insisted they had been protesting peacefully when the shooting started. Some were wounded. The exact number of casualties remained unclear as authorities offered no immediate statement.
Outside the prison walls, family members gathered in desperation. They clashed with National Guard officers carrying riot shields as they tried to enter the facility. Minutes after the confrontation, relatives reported hearing screams and explosions from inside. Yelitza Arrollo, whose son is incarcerated there, told journalists she had not heard from him since May 8th. "They are suffering," she said, standing outside the gates. "We want the director removed."
The protest drew roughly 1,300 participants—about 1,200 men and more than 100 women held at Barinas. They were striking over conditions that extended beyond the immediate violence: the confiscation of their clothing, the prohibition on visits from family members, and what they characterized as routine torture by guards operating under the director's watch. The Venezuelan Observatory of Prisons documented the events and said it would report them to international human rights bodies.
The uprising at Barinas reflects broader turbulence in Venezuela's detention system. The country's prisons have drawn intense international attention in recent months, particularly after the interim government under Delcy Rodriguez passed legislation releasing hundreds of people classified as political prisoners. In January, the United States military attacked Caracas and captured then-president Nicolás Maduro. That geopolitical upheaval has coincided with mounting pressure on how Venezuela treats those in its custody. The rooftop protest and the alleged gunfire that followed are now part of a documented record that human rights organizations are assembling as scrutiny of Venezuelan detention practices intensifies.
Citações Notáveis
We want justice. They are shooting us, the guards and the wardens.— An inmate at Barinas prison, speaking in a video shared by the Venezuelan Observatory of Prisons
They are suffering. We want the director removed.— Yelitza Arrollo, whose son is incarcerated at the prison, speaking outside the facility
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why did the inmates choose the roof as their stage?
The roof is visible. It's where smoke can be seen from miles away, where banners hang where cameras can reach them. It's the one place inside a prison where the outside world might actually see what's happening.
The video of the chest wound—that's the kind of evidence that changes a story.
Yes. It moves it from allegation to documentation. Someone filmed it. It exists. You can't unsee it or deny it was taken.
What does it mean that families were clashing with the National Guard outside?
It means the protest wasn't contained. The desperation leaked out through the gates. Parents and partners were willing to confront armed officers because the alternative—silence, not knowing—was worse.
Yelitza Arrollo hasn't heard from her son in over two weeks. What does that silence represent?
It's the mechanism of control. You can't organize a response if you don't know if your loved one is alive. You can't plan. You can only wait and fear.
Why does the timing matter—the law releasing political prisoners, the US military action in January?
Because it shows Venezuela's detention system is under pressure from multiple directions at once. The government is trying to manage its image internationally while inmates are saying the violence inside hasn't stopped. The timing makes the rooftop protest a statement about what's still happening despite the reforms.