Diego Fernando Arellano de Figueredo

People usually remember my brother for the expression on his face in that last photo casually taken of him—a photo where he appears to have a “smile.” For many, that “smile” was a sign of hope; for my family and me, it was the reflection of the physical pain left by the wound that ended his life.

My name is Arianna Arellano De Figueiredo. I am the sister of Diego Arellano De Figueiredo, murdered on May 16, 2017, in San Antonio de los Altos by funcionarios of the Guardia Nacional Bolivariana (GNB).

My brother was 31 years old. He was a Biologist-herpetologist, a graduate of the Faculty of Sciences at the Universidad Central de Venezuela (UCV), and worked as a researcher at the Faculty of Pharmacy in the production of anti-venom serum. He was a free soul who preferred, under all circumstances, “to be outdoors with his bugs” as he called the animals he cared for.

Diego had the opportunity to live abroad—he even lived outside the country for two years—but he returned because he preferred to live in Venezuela despite the circumstances, to dedicate himself to herpetology, his great passion.

He was a Scout since age five and a 3rd-dan black belt in Karate-Do.

He was a common citizen who belonged to no political party or organization, and I want that to be clear!

On May 16, 2017, Diego tried to go to work, but the protests blocked the way. He decided to join the demonstration. That day, the situation was especially violent. The GNB was not firing into the air to disperse the crowd; they were firing directly at the protesters. They wanted a death, and that fate befell my brother.

But you have to put yourself in my brother’s shoes, and those of everyone murdered by this regime; you have to understand the level of frustration that comes from not being able to grow and live in the country where you were born. If you do, you must face daily crime, the lack of basic services, an economy frozen in time, and a dictatorial regime that worsens the complex humanitarian crisis the country is going through.

That day, as my friends and neighbors tell me, the situation was especially violent; they were firing tear gas and pellets non-stop. They weren’t firing into the air, as I understand riot forces should do to disperse a demonstration—quite the opposite. The Guardia Nacional Bolivariana (GNB) was firing directly at the protesters.

They wanted a death, and my brother met that fate. I know it is very difficult to understand how those who are supposed to protect citizens would attack them, but that is the reality. Human rights are not respected in Venezuela! The bullet—or rather, the missile—that struck Diego was an 11.3 mm metallic sphere. Since it didn’t have a tip like a common bullet, it didn’t exit his body; it ricocheted and ricocheted—it shattered him from within!

A few minutes after the impact, they took my brother to the nearest clinic. His liver was completely lacerated; an hour later, he passed away.

The cause? Hypovolemic shock.

Being hundreds of miles away, I had to find out about my own brother’s death through social media. The only thing on my mind was my mother’s pain at losing a child—I am also a mother, and I cannot imagine anything worse!

That same afternoon, the investigation began. Agents from the CICPC and the Ministerio Público went to the scene. I have proof because I have a copy of the report; the case’s expertises were carried out (planimetry, investigation of graphic material, witness statements, etc.), which I can provide to interested parties whenever necessary.

A few days after the investigation started, the Ministerio Público abandoned the case and has done nothing else since. Coinciding with the departure of Prosecutor Luisa Ortega Díaz, various acquaintances and the lawyer who managed to get copies of the report have asked multiple times about the judicial proceedings; it just sits there, with nothing being done. There isn’t even a dismissal by the prosecutor. In conclusion, the only thing the State has done is to stall the process over time.

My family and I know there is no single direct culprit. We have seen videos of several funcionarios firing directly at the people who were where Diego was with his group. We even learned through this graphic material that the Commander in charge was a well-known executioner of the regime, who died as a result of complications from a gunshot wound and COVID in 2019.

My brother’s case is not unique, let alone isolated; they knew what they were doing. The Guardia Nacional Bolivariana went out to murder protesters under orders from the regime to silence the streets.

By analyzing the demonstrations in detail, anyone could determine that the hundreds of Venezuelans murdered were victims of a disproportionate use of force by funcionarios who modify dispersal weapons, fire bullets without serial numbers, inflict wounds in vital areas (head, chest, and groin), and use ammunition such as marbles, tear gas canisters, and metal spheres.

Their goal was clear: to cause harm or to murder.

The methods were ruthless; they knew very well what to do to hide their tracks and prevent their crimes from being proven, causing most cases to go uninvestigated.

Our hopes lie with international justice bodies, such as the International Criminal Court (ICC). We know it is a mechanism that can exert pressure on the regime so that cases like my brother’s can be resolved and the responsible parties can answer to justice. I want the chain of command to be investigated, and for those who gave those orders to pay for all the deaths they caused.

So, I ask again, what does a smile hide? Not all mean the same thing, nor do all people who smile do so for the same reasons. Diego’s smile that day was not one of happiness, but of pain. It is the same smile that all Venezuelans fake to face daily life while our country falls apart. That is why today, I choose not to hide the pain I feel, but to use it as an impulse to demand justice for my brother.