In the forests of Peru's Ucayali region, Ashéninka leader Américo Pascuala Tumisha was shot and killed while patrolling the boundaries of his community's territory — boundaries that were legally recognized, formally documented, and ultimately undefended by the state. He died confronting illegal copaiba oil extractors whose presence had been reported to authorities for years without meaningful response. His death is not an isolated tragedy but the latest chapter in a long and documented pattern: Indigenous peoples granted rights on paper, then left alone to enforce them with their lives. More t
Ashéninka Leader Killed Defending Territory From Illegal Oil Extraction in Peru
Ashéninka leader Américo Pascuala Tumisha was fatally shot while defending his community's territory; at least 38 Indigenous defenders killed in Peruvian Amazon since 2014.
Paper cannot stop a bullet; concrete action is needed
Mark
Why was Pascuala out there on that particular Sunday? Was this a routine patrol or something he knew was coming?
Mimi
It was routine work—the kind of thing he'd been doing as coordinator of the surveillance committee. But routine in a place where illegal extraction had been happening for years without real consequences. He knew the problem. He'd reported it. The question is whether he expected that day to be different from all the others.
Mark
The copaiba oil—is this something that's valuable enough to kill over?
Mimi
Valuable enough that people were willing to risk it, especially during the pandemic when cash was scarce. Buyers from Pucallpa were coming in, offering money. For someone desperate, that's real. But for Pascuala, it wasn't about the oil's value. It was about his community's right to decide what happens on their own land.
Mark
The government formally recognized his committee just a year before he died. That seems like it should have mattered.
Mimi
It did matter—on paper. He had official authority to patrol, to report, to act as a custodian of the forest. But authority without enforcement is just a title. He'd already reported the extractors. He'd already gone through the system. And nothing had stopped them.
Mark
What does AIDESEP mean when they say he received no protective measures?
Mimi
It means he was out there alone, doing work that was putting him in direct conflict with people willing to use violence, and the state apparatus that gave him the authority didn't give him the protection to do it safely. He was authorized to confront. He wasn't protected from the consequences.
Mark
Thirty-eight Indigenous defenders killed in the Amazon since 2014. That's not random violence—that's a pattern.
Mimi
It's a pattern of people defending land against extraction, and extraction continuing because the people doing it face almost no real consequences. Pascuala's death is part of that pattern. So is the fact that a court sentenced four men in another defender's murder a day after Pascuala was killed—justice arriving years too late.
Le Pouls
- An Ashéninka territorial patrol leader was fatally shot during a confrontation with unauthorized copaiba oil extractors operating inside his community's legally recognized boundaries.
- Illegal extraction had persisted since at least 2020, with extractors threatening residents who complained — and state-organized patrols failing to stop the incursions.
- Despite formal recognition of Onconashari's Forest Surveillance Committee just one year before his death, Pascuala received no protective response after reporting outside intruders entering the territory.
- Peru's protection mechanism for human rights defenders is underfunded and widely acknowledged to be ineffective in remote Indigenous areas, leaving accredited custodians to face armed extractors alone.
- At least 38 Indigenous defenders have been killed in the Peruvian Amazon since 2014, and a court sentenced killers in a prior case the day after Pascuala died — justice arriving too late, as it has before.
In the forests of Peru's Ucayali region, Ashéninka leader Américo Pascuala Tumisha was shot and killed while patrolling the boundaries of his community's territory — boundaries that were legally recognized, formally documented, and ultimately undefended by the state. He died confronting illegal copaiba oil extractors whose presence had been reported to authorities for years without meaningful response. His death is not an isolated tragedy but the latest chapter in a long and documented pattern: Indigenous peoples granted rights on paper, then left alone to enforce them with their lives. More than sixty environmental defenders have been killed in Peru since 2012, each one a measure of the distance between a government's promises and its presence.
On a Sunday in Peru's Ucayali region, Ashéninka leader Américo Pascuala Tumisha was shot and killed while patrolling the forest his community had formal authority to protect. As coordinator of the Onconashari Indigenous community's territorial surveillance committee, he encountered people extracting copaiba oil without permission inside community boundaries. A confrontation broke out, and he was fatally shot.
The illegal extraction of copaiba — a resin tapped from trees and sold for use in traditional medicine and commercial products — had been documented since at least 2020. A 2023 report by the nonprofit Derecho, Ambiente y Recursos Naturales found that extractors from a neighboring community had been entering Onconashari and the adjacent Murunahua Indigenous Reserve without consent, taking the oil and threatening residents who objected. Joint patrols were organized after community authorities complained to their federation, Peru's Ministry of Culture, and police — but the incursions continued. The activity had intensified during the COVID-19 pandemic, when buyers from Pucallpa arrived offering cash for copaiba in an area where money had grown scarce.
In August 2025, the Ucayali regional government formally recognized Onconashari's surveillance committee, accrediting its members as forest and wildlife custodians with authority to patrol and report threats. The community's chief spoke at the ceremony about the need to protect boundaries that neighbors did not respect. Within a year, Pascuala was dead. According to AIDESEP Ucayali, he had previously reported outsiders entering the territory and received neither state response nor protective measures.
The killing fits a pattern that is neither new nor narrowing. More than 60 environmental and land defenders have been killed in Peru since 2012. AIDESEP documents at least 38 Indigenous defenders murdered in the Peruvian Amazon between 2014 and 2026. The day after Pascuala's death, a Peruvian court sentenced four men to prison for the 2023 murder of Kichwa leader Quinto Inuma Alvarado — a reckoning that arrived too late for the man who had spent years reporting the threats against him.
AIDESEP's Vice President Miguel Guimaraes said plainly that Peru's Intersectoral Mechanism for the Protection of Human Rights Defenders has failed to provide adequate protection in remote Indigenous territories. The mechanism is underfunded. The Ashéninka have formal territorial rights, recognized surveillance committees, and years of filed complaints. "Paper cannot stop a bullet," Guimaraes said. "Concrete action is needed on the ground to protect defenders." Pascuala's death was not an anomaly. It was the latest in a sequence of documented failures — to respond, to protect, and to prevent.
Américo Pascuala Tumisha was shot and killed on a Sunday in Peru's Ucayali region while doing what he had been formally authorized to do: patrol the forest that belonged to his people. The Ashéninka leader, who served as coordinator of the Onconashari Indigenous community's territorial surveillance committee, encountered people extracting copaiba oil without permission inside community boundaries. A confrontation erupted. He was fatally shot.
The oil being taken was copaiba, a resin tapped from trees and sold for use in traditional medicine and commercial products. It had been flowing out of Onconashari territory illegally for years. A 2023 report by the Peruvian nonprofit Derecho, Ambiente y Recursos Naturales documented that extractors from the nearby Nueva Luz de Arara community had been entering Onconashari and the neighboring Murunahua Indigenous Reserve without permission, taking the oil and threatening residents who objected. When Onconashari authorities complained to their Indigenous federation, Peru's Ministry of Culture, and police, joint patrols were organized in late 2022. But the incursions continued.
The extraction had intensified during the COVID-19 pandemic, when cash dried up and buyers from Pucallpa began arriving in the Yurúa area offering money for copaiba. The economic pressure was real. The illegal activity was persistent. In August 2025, the Ucayali regional government formally recognized Onconashari's Forest Surveillance and Control Committee, accrediting its members as forest and wildlife custodians with the authority to patrol, report illegal logging, and alert officials to threats. Robinson Pascual, then the community's chief, spoke at the recognition ceremony about the need to protect boundaries that neighbors did not respect. Within a year, Américo Pascuala was dead.
According to the Regional Organization AIDESEP Ucayali, Pascuala had previously reported outsiders entering the territory but received neither state response nor protective measures. The Peruvian Public Prosecutor's Office opened an investigation into his killing, but the broader pattern was already clear. More than 60 environmental and land defenders have been killed in Peru since 2012. AIDESEP's own early-warning system documents at least 38 Indigenous defenders murdered in the Peruvian Amazon between 2014 and 2026. In 2014, four Asháninka leaders from Alto Tamaya-Saweto were killed for resisting illegal loggers. In 2023, Kichwa leader Quinto Inuma Alvarado was murdered in San Martín after repeatedly reporting illegal logging and threats. On the day after Pascuala's death, a Peruvian court sentenced four men in Inuma's case to prison terms ranging from 15 to 35 years—a reckoning that came too late for the man who had reported the crimes.
The Ashéninka are an Arawak-speaking people with communities across Peru's Ucayali, Pasco, Junín, and Huánuco regions, and across the border in Acre, Brazil. Peru's Ministry of Culture estimates roughly 15,300 people live in Ashéninka communities. They have formal territorial rights. They have surveillance committees. They have made reports to government agencies. And they continue to be killed. AIDESEP's Vice President Miguel Guimaraes stated plainly that Peru's Intersectoral Mechanism for the Protection of Human Rights Defenders has not provided adequate protection in remote Indigenous territories. The mechanism lacks sufficient funding. "Paper cannot stop a bullet," he said. "Concrete action is needed on the ground to protect defenders." Pascuala's death was not an anomaly. It was the latest in a documented sequence of failures—failures to respond, failures to protect, failures to stop the extraction, failures to prevent the confrontation that ended in his death.
Citations marquantes
It is important to take care of our territory because sometimes our neighbors do not respect the boundaries. With this recognition, we will be better able to protect it.— Robinson Pascual, Onconashari community chief, at the time the surveillance committee was officially recognized
Despite efforts to confront illicit activities, Indigenous leaders continue to be killed. The intersectoral mechanism does not have enough funding. Paper cannot stop a bullet; concrete action is needed on the ground to protect defenders.— Miguel Guimaraes, AIDESEP Vice President
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