Pamela López rompe silencio sobre video con fiscal investigada por corrupción

A video surfaced this week showing Pamela López, the ex-wife of footballer Christian Cueva, seated at a table in a cevichería during what appeared to be a birthday celebration. Among those present was fiscal Elizabeth Peralta, a prosecutor currently under investigation for corruption in what authorities call the Chibolín case—an affair involving allegations that she accepted money to facilitate the return of seized gold to businessman Javier Miu Lei. The footage, aired by the program Amor y Fuego, placed López in an awkward position: she was being photographed alongside a public official whose integrity was in question, at a moment when her own legal troubles were already mounting.

López had recently faced threats from Cueva, who warned he would report her for harassment and seek her imprisonment. The video threatened to deepen her legal exposure. The gathering had taken place at Mi Barrunto, a well-known seafood restaurant, sometime during the pandemic—staff wore masks in the footage. Present were López, Cueva, Peralta, and Luis Sánchez Aranda, one of the restaurant's owners, who is himself under investigation for corruption. In the clip, López wears a mariachi hat while those around her smile and applaud, singing her a birthday song.

When the video became public, López decided to address it directly, speaking to hosts Rodrigo González and Gigi Mitre on their program. She moved quickly to distance herself from Peralta, insisting she had no friendship with the fiscal and did not even know her name until the video went viral. "I completely rule out any connection with her," López said. "I didn't know her name or surname. I only learned she existed after all of this became public. I kept thinking, I've seen that face somewhere, but I couldn't place it."

López also corrected the timeline. Her actual birthday is June 9, and she had celebrated it in Trujillo, a city north of Lima. The gathering captured in the video occurred three days later, on June 12, 2021, when she had returned to the capital with her family. She explained that Cueva, the father of her children, frequently took her to the cevichería for lunch. "When I arrived at that table, the fiscal was already there," López recounted. "They introduced her to me—I think as a lawyer, I'm not entirely sure because I didn't really interact with her. We barely exchanged words. We shared a toast and part of the meal, that's all."

Despite this, López acknowledged hearing things at that table—conversations and exchanges that suggested something was amiss. She hinted that this was not the first time she had encountered Peralta in a social setting, always under the guise of an attorney. But López refused to elaborate, citing the absence of hard evidence and the sensitivity of the matters involved. "I've heard many things at that table," she said, "but all of that would need to be backed by proof, because obviously these are very delicate subjects. There are things I've heard, but I prefer to keep them separate from this."

The statement leaves López in a precarious position. By acknowledging that she witnessed something troubling but refusing to detail it, she has neither fully exonerated herself nor provided authorities with actionable information. Her insistence that she did not know Peralta's true role strains credibility slightly—the fiscal's identity would have been discoverable through basic inquiry—yet her account of minimal interaction at the table is plausible. What remains unclear is whether her presence at that gathering, however peripheral, will complicate the corruption investigation into Peralta or whether it might be used against López herself in her ongoing disputes with Cueva.