Mingling with Colombia's killers

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

'You know, I'm a paraco now.'

That's what a 25-year-old acquaintance, let's call him Juan — not his real name — told me when I was reunited with him in March of this year in Santandercito, the barrio in the far north of Bogotá in which I normally reside whenever I'm in Colombia's capital.

AGC presente: Autodefensas Gaitanistas de Colombia, aka Clan del Golfo, is Colombia's largest paramilitary group. 

Pawn of the paracos

Juan offered this information to me after I told him that I'd just spent the last few months in San Martín, Meta, an area said to be largely controlled by paracos.

These paracos, Colombia's paramilitaries, originally came into being in the 1960s as a counterpoint to the guerrillas. Both groups can trace their origins to left versus right political ideologies, nominally at least, but today they're all just effectively gangland criminals vying to control the cocaine trade and other illegal activities.

Just over eight weeks after Juan — whom I'd known since 2016 when he was a happy-go-lucky teenager — told me of his employment, he was shot dead. It was a planned hit. Loved ones left behind include an inconsolable mother, a shattered stepfather, and heartbroken brothers, people with whom I have shared many enjoyable moments in Santandercito over the last ten years.

Neither Juan's telling me that he was a paraco nor his tragic demise surprised me much, however.

I'd suspected for the last few years that he was involved in dodgy dealings of some sort.

In fact, he and another young man and friend-of-sorts of mine from the barrio, a guy I'll call José — again, not his real name — were sent away for a few months to a paraco training camp in the Antioquia department some time back. So the story goes. I did ask both of them, separately, to divulge a little more information about this camp, but it was never forthcoming. Although José didn't completely rule out doing so. I stopped asking after a while, though.

'A paraco he may have been, but he was no more than a pawn for greater powers. He was certainly no capo dei capi, that much is now clear.'

On their return to Barrio Santandercito, I noticed Juan's behaviour change. A harder, meaner edge came to replace the cheerfulness he had previously displayed in abundance. José, in contrast, has remained largely easygoing. He is that way towards me anyway.

Juan began to give off an air of invincibility. The way he strutted around the barrio was as if he thought he were a feared mafia boss. Now, a paraco he may have been, but he was no more than a pawn for greater powers. He was certainly no capo dei capi, that much is now clear.

In a journal entry the day after Juan told me of his paraco status, I noted that ill winds could soon be blowing his way, owing to his cocky behaviour. Only those truly in control could get away with such posturing. But even the bigwigs are brought back down to size at some stage.

Those ill winds did blow Juan's way. And with fatal force.

José was with Juan on the night he was shot dead, Friday 29 May, on a footpath on Calle 188 with Carrera 16, in the Verbenal barrio of Bogotá, just a few blocks away from Santandercito. José wasn't harmed, not physically anyway.

Mowing down Mauricio

On the day of Juan's burial, I was told by a somewhat reliable source in Santandercito that both Juan and José were the ones sent to kill another acquaintance of mine in this part of Bogotá, the affable Mauricio, a man who ran a number of tienda bars in Verbenal. Mauricio was murdered in April 2025.

His crime, so it goes, was to sell cocaine, which he got from his own sources. That is to say, he didn't get his white powder from the gang that is said to control the underworld in the greater Verbenal area.

My Santandercito source told me that Juan, recognised as a talented motorbike operator, rode the bike used to take José to Mauricio. José, as the better marksman, fired the weapon. That's the conjecture doing the rounds in the barrio. We'll probably never know for sure. And it's something I'm not too keen to ask José about, not directly anyway.

The cost of crime

Over the last few years, I had heard that José regularly got on the wrong side of some of his superiors. At one stage, he was apparently forbidden from entering Santandercito. If somebody had said to me two years ago that just one of either Juan or José would be soon gunned down, I would have thought that José would face that fate. Although, as I mentioned, Juan's behaviour in recent months would have led me to change my thinking.

Seeing as how José was with Juan on the night of his murder, in a location seen as close to ideal to carry out such a hit, there is speculation that José had some part to play in it. That he sold out his partner in crime to protect himself. Again, it's all hearsay.

The chances of us ever finding out exactly what happened on the night Juan was gunned down are slim.

It's unlikely there'll be any thorough investigation carried out. The general approach by Colombia's authorities when it comes to gangland murders is that as long as they're killing each other, then it's not a major concern. That's how it appears, anyway. 'Let them knock themselves out.'

The old adage that crime doesn't pay was certainly the case for Juan. The ones who do make big bucks out of criminality in Colombia tend not to get their hands bloodied and are fairly well protected. The paraco pawns, on the other hand, are very much dispensable.
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Colombia: The risk is seeing your paradise go up in flames

We don't have to go too far back to find a time when Colombia was pretty much considered a no-go area.

At the turn of the millennium, only the true adventurous, nay mad in the head, would consider visiting the country as a tourist, let alone actually settle down and invest decent time and money in it.

For the last number of years, as most readers of this blog will know, this negative reputation has been rapidly changing.

Uribe's utopia

The peace agreement signed with the Farc guerrillas in 2016, officially ending over half-a-century of internal conflict between that group and government forces, was a significant moment in this regard.

Up in smoke: The damage caused to 'Finca Entre Ríos'.

Yet, as important as that has been at an official level, the truth is this viewing of Colombia in a much more positive light internationally had begun years before.

Unpalatable as this may be to many Colombians today, especially younger generations, between 2002 and 2010, under the hawkish presidency of Álvaro Uribe, the general security situation improved considerably.

Whether the ends justified the heavy-handed means — heavier on some violent types more so than others, it could be said — is something still being discussed today.

A home from home

Nonetheless, from a tourism perspective, visiting the many natural gems the country has to offer became much less risky, for locals and foreigners alike.

This trend, some hotspots notwithstanding, has been continuing.

Alongside increasing tourist numbers, a not-insignificant number of foreigners have made Colombia their home. They've voted with their feet in a positive way, demonstrating to those who care to listen that this place is not the violent backwater some in the more 'developed' world still think it is.

At times, however, the country gives us all a little reminder that it has a bit to go before we can compare it favourably with other, more established spots when it comes to investing in it. Quite a bit to go.

Para-dise's price

One of these more sinister sides is extortion, which reared its ugly head for fellow Irishman Patrick Fleming who has called Santa Marta his home since 2001. While we've heard stories of police being directly and unashamedly involved in this practice, this particular example is to do with suspected paramilitaries.

In some ways, that Patrick managed to avoid trouble for so long could be seen as good fortune. Paramilitaries did operate in the area in question when he first arrived, but nothing untoward had ever happened.

That aside, when your little piece of paradise on the Caribbean, a magical place visited by this blog last year, gets deliberately burnt to the ground at any stage, it's difficult to view it in a positive light.

In fact, after years developing his 'Finca Entre Ríos' at Paso del Mango on the foothills of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, where he provided employment for a young family, this arson attack now has the generally easygoing Patrick and his Colombian wife contemplating their future in the region.

The reason it happened is quite simple.

Pay or go?

Earlier in the year Paso del Mango's small community experienced a number of petty robberies. Shortly afterwards a hotel in the area was approached and asked to pay the dreaded 'vacuna', the word for protection money in these parts.

The community got together and decided they wouldn't fork out the cash to the extortionists. Extra police protection was asked for, which duly came. It didn't last, though.

As a further buffer, the community also managed to get additional army patrols, but again, the frequency of these soon decreased.

Thus, with little sustained help from state authorities, be it by accident or design, the rather secluded community was ripe for the picking. Cue the arson attack.

Now, it must be said that one man was arrested and charged in connection with the incident. Authorities seem content, by all accounts, that they've done their bit.

Yet, for Patrick and the Paso del Mango community in general it's a question of, 'What next?'

Mob rule appears to have taken hold, where the only options seem to be pay up or leave. The hope is that this retrograde step is just temporary.
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Colombia's Chamberlain-esque peace?

On the face of it, it seems like a no-brainer. On 02 October Colombians are going to be asked to vote either 'yes' or 'no' for peace. 

That is to say, to give their backing to a deal finally reached between the government and the leftist-styled Farc rebels to end a bloody internal conflict that has troubled the country for over 50 years. Apart from the sadistic amongst us, who wouldn't vote in the affirmative?

President Santos' peace, but not for all Colombians?

Of course, it's just not that simple, even if, perhaps, it should be. You see, there is a belief that what has been brokered by the negotiators in Cuba in many ways doesn't reflect the reality on the ground in Colombia. 

A political agreement that looks fine and dandy on paper and allows the warring leaders to come together in brotherly love (it has pretty much been male-dominated), but a deal practically not worth the paper it's written on in "normal Colombia", the very place it's meant to bring about real, positive change. That's a view you won't have to search hard to find among the masses.

We've written plenty here before about the problems inherent in this process, one of those being the idea that the Farc leaders who negotiated this deal do not speak for the majority under their control (if ‘control’ is the right word to use here at all). 

Indeed, with political positions in the offing for the few Farc dealmakers of Havana, their lives might just be about to become a whole lot easier. The same cannot be said for the foot soldiers.

This is one source of scepticism towards the whole process for Colombians; it's to be found especially among the lower classes and away from the big cities (as we mentioned in a previous post). 

The idea is that those who may fly under the Farc banner today will just continue on in criminality post this peace deal being ratified, if that should happen. 

Plus, you have those who were never Farc members, be they fellow leftists or from the right, who have made a tidy living from both controlling and living in what you could call a separate state from the elected one headed by Juan Manuel Santos. Colombia's black market can be quite profitable.

What's more, there are those, headed vociferously by former president, the hawkish Álvaro Uribe, who view this as Santos' peace, not one that truly represents Colombia at large (el pueblo Colombiano). 

With Santos' approval rating low, a protest 'no' vote is a distinct possibility to add to the other genuine causes for concern that Colombians have about the process.

Most people know that true peace is not going to come with the simple signing of an agreement and a ceasefire. There are a host of deeper obstacles before arriving at a situation where peace and stability can thrive in Colombia. 

At the heart of those is the vast inequality that exists in the country, something that, it appears, no government has been willing or able to pay proper attention to.

That aside, that some of Colombia's men of violence have decided to give peace a chance has to be seen as a positive development, better than the status quo. 

Yes, officialdom was duped before, but a Neville Chamberlain returning from Nazi-run Germany in 1938 with a peace for our time type of agreement this is not. This particular deal has some substance to it. 

For sure, it's far from perfect, but it is a step in the right direction. The hope must be that it is a modicum of peace to achieve more peace.

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Lomalinda: Colombia's lost community

Most visitors to Colombia have at least heard of, if not visited, Ciudad Perdida, the Lost City. Tucked away high up in the Caribbean coast's Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, you could call it the Colombian version of Machu Picchu, one that outdates its more famed Peruvian counterpart albeit.

Lomalinda's old school, now left to the forces of nature.

While much is unknown about its history and those who inhabited it, it's pretty safe to assume that the cause for the city's abandonment was down to the arrival of those civilised types from across the Atlantic Ocean, namely the Spanish.

That exodus from the Lost City, however it transpired, could be seen as a harbinger for events much later in the land of the country we now call Colombia. 

For flights of fear from ruthless enemies didn't stop with the Spanish conquest nor the coming of the Colombian Republic. In fact, we don't have to go that far back in history to find examples of people uprooted from what they had once called home.

One of those Colombian lost communities is to be found, or not to be found as it is, in the picturesque and now tranquil setting of Lomalinda in the department of Meta, home to Colombia's plains. Now, as mentioned, forced displacements aren't novel here, but the Lomalinda case does stand out from others for a number of reasons.

For starters, Lomalinda wasn't your typical Colombian community or settlement. In fact, it wasn't Colombian at all. Founded in the 1960s, its origins began as a remote outpost for a Christian missionary/indigenous research project originating from the United States. 

The Summer Institute of Linguistics (Instituto Lingüístico de Verano in Spanish), as it was known, came to Colombia to study and put into writing the languages of the many indigenous tribes to be found here. 

As the work was going to take considerable time — we're talking decades here — the Colombian government gave the organisation unoccupied land close to the town of Puerto Lleras.

How it used to be: Lomalinda's airfield back in the day.

It was here, in what the new inhabitants named Lomalinda, which means 'pretty hill', the community grew and indeed flourished. 

Some people came specifically to work on the project, while others came to aide Lomalinda life itself. There was a need for primary and secondary school teachers for the expat children, for example. So you had a mixture of permanent- to semi-permanent residents and those on more of a temporary stay.

While the language in the community was English, some Colombians did come to settle nearby and it wasn't completely cut off from what was going on around it.

However, considering the deteriorating security situation that was to come, Lomalinda's residents might have wished they could have lived in a bubble. 

As the Farc guerrillas gained control around the area in the 1980s, it signalled the beginning of the end for what many residents had seen as an idyllic, lake-shore life. 

How could a small, defenceless Western community, however vibrant it had been, survive with self-proclaimed communists menacingly nearby in what was to became a war zone?

After threats, kidnappings and a number of deaths, the last of the expat Lomalinda residents left in the mid-1990s. 

Following their departure, the Colombian army moved in to secure the area. Thus began a process of degeneration; military personnel stationed in Lomalinda helped themselves, unsurprisingly, to some of the 'goodies' left behind.

The army, for reasons unknown, departed in the late '90s and that left the way open for the Farc, who had control of nearby Puerto Lleras, to continue the destruction of the village. Over a number of weeks the guerillas cleared out everything they could. Houses basically disappeared, bar any brick walls they had and their foundations.

Lomalinda certainly has tourism potential.

As the country's conflict rumbled on, the Farc lost control of the area. Yet, as it has been for many places in rural Colombia, until recently it was still seen as a no-go location. It's not exactly guerrilla nor paramilitary free today, but it's far, far safer than it was.

Something resembling normal life seems to be returning to Lomalinda, minus the English-speaking Westerners as residents that is. In their place, on many of the foundations they built, have come those of a more common hue for these parts. 

Some of these new arrivals were displaced from elsewhere themselves due to Colombia's conflict. That such rather desperate folk with few opportunities have taken ownership of what was left behind might be of some comfort to the departed expats.

Nonetheless, as the locals are quick to point out, this is still an area where guerrillas and paramilitaries (or paracos as they're also called) linger. Things may not be as dangerous as before, however it's hard to find anyone in favour of the peace deal that the government of President Juan Manuel Santos is pursuing in Havana, Cuba. 

For many locals here, they envisage no change to the Farc — or whatever those using that name now might call themselves post any peace deal — collecting taxes on the one hand, and paramilitaries controlling their ground on the other.

Whatever the future may hold, what Lomalinda's current residents want now is to carry on with their lives without fear of forced eviction or death hanging over them. 

Is that too much to ask? Considering what's gone before, they could be forgiven for thinking yes.
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