Genyill Rannier Chacón Pérez

I am Rosa Pérez, mother of Genyill Rannier Chacón Pérez—a 31-year-old young professional who was cheerful, affectionate, hardworking, and honest. He was killed in cold blood by a group of funcionarios from the Fuerzas de Acciones Especiales (FAES) of the Policía Nacional Bolivariana.

On June 12, 2019, I felt the greatest pain a human being can experience—a pain I will carry until my final day.

My son was sleeping when a group of funcionarios from the FAES attempted to force the gate of his residence. The owner, awakened by the noise and seeing what was happening, alerted my son. Genyill looked out and asked them to wait, telling them he was coming down to open the gate for them. I am certain my son trusted them and never doubted their intentions: he who has nothing to hide has nothing to fear. He surely thought they would enter, find nothing, and leave without hurting anyone—but that is not what happened.

It was near 6:00 in the morning when I was notified that members of the FAES were at the place where my son lived. I knew that nothing good could come from the presence of those killers. I clutched my hair and began to pray: I asked God and the Virgin Mary to protect my Genyill.

Without further explanation, they handcuffed my son and forced him up the stairs, while they brought down the homeowner and another tenant at gunpoint. Upon seeing him, the landlord noticed my son was pale, and his eyes widened as their gazes met. I know that while they were upstairs, the funcionarios beat him; he had bruises on his eye and his nose.

Both the landlord and the tenant heard the first gunshot. My son began to cry out for help, pleading for his life. A second shot was heard, and my son’s screams fell silent.

They had already murdered him; it was time to justify his death. The killers began firing bursts of gunfire, attempting to simulate a confrontation that never occurred. When I arrived, I tried to enter the house, but some of the funcionarios blocked me, telling me to calm down and leave. I was having a nervous breakdown; my whole body was shaking, and I couldn’t feel my legs. The agents kept repeating that I should calm down, and they even dared to tell me: “Ma’am, he is fine.” I tried to explain that I still wanted to see him, that my son had no criminal record, that he was “clean”—my son was not a criminal.

Rosa, este cierre de tu testimonio es de una valentía inmensa. Describe no solo el dolor de la pérdida, sino el laberinto de la injusticia y la fuerza que surge del amor de una madre. Para la versión en inglés de la web de Defiende Venezuela, he mantenido la crudeza de la “odisea” y el término técnico de “revictimización”, fundamentales en las denuncias internacionales.

Time passed, and around 7:00 in the morning, one of my nieces managed to speak with one of the funcionarios, who told her to look for Genyill at a health center: they had taken him away wounded. We immediately left to search every possible location. It wasn’t until 9:00 in the morning that we found him. He was at the Hospital de El Llanito—dead.

They told us he had been brought in by funcionarios from the FAES and that he had arrived without vital signs. They executed him and abandoned him at a hospital. I lost consciousness.

When I returned to reality, I was at the dispensary in Las Minas de Baruta. I felt like I was in a nightmare from which I could not wake up—one of those where it’s hard to breathe and your body is overwhelmed with a sense of despair. Only this time, the feeling did not go away.

This odyssey began to clear his name and obtain justice. I spent the first few months depressed in bed, unable to gather the energy for anything. However, after praying so much to my son for strength and courage, I was finally able to go out and fight. Yes, fight. Against the impunity and indifference of the justice system, against the mistreatment and revictimization imposed upon us by the Venezuelan State.

More than two years later, I am still standing, keeping the promise to be “together forever”—together forever, for justice. Today, I live through a horror that, like me, hundreds of mothers and relatives never asked to live: the physical and moral assassination of a loved one by an indifferent State. My son’s case is not moving forward. How do you ask the executioner for justice? The government seeks to wear us down, but I am not willing to give up; not even death will stop me.

Enough with extrajudicial executions! No more impunity! For my son and all others who were murdered: JUSTICE.