“The nightfall was remarkable for the heaviness of the atmosphere it brought with it: a panorama so opaque and overshadowing that it almost seemed to strive to generate affinity with the history of the place in which it made its presence known”.
By Cristian Gasca and Óscar Durán.
Three abundant bodies of water converge in the Tarra River, an ample flow that runs through the surroundings of the Colombian region of Catatumbo and, in turn, delimits the border territory with Venezuela. Right there, in the bowels of the department of Norte de Santander, stands the village of Tres Bocas, a small settlement permanently plagued by violence whose inhabitants depend, to a large extent, on the same stream that lies next to their homes for economic sustenance. They live by fishing.
El Tarra has been, for decades, a silent and particular witness to countless armed operations by guerrilla commandos belonging to the FARC, ELN, EPL and even periodic activity by a criminal gang calling itself under the pseudonym of Los Rastrojos.
collective sensation and natural precaution in the face of every homicide, kidnapping or attack that, with disturbing recurrence, is perpetuated in the surroundings of inhabited areas. The same would happen once the afternoon of November 20, 2010 was filled, whose fateful twilight would shudder giving way to the ravages of violence. Once again.
The clock read seven o’clock at night. The thickness of the wind alluded to the darkness of the sky as much as to the cloudiness of its lap. At the Tres Bocas Police Substation, which looked more like a civil construction than a police facility, patrolman Jaime Enrique Rodriguez was handing in his shift after covering eight hours of work.
In that place it seemed like twenty. Already ready to go to rest, he then went to his room, located in the same establishment. And so, as if destiny had waited capriciously for the exact time for Jaime to stop working, he suddenly noticed the sudden burst of gunshots that increased in the distance.
He took up his weaponry immediately: a reaction to the training he had, now put to the test in a real contingency situation. As never before. Nimbly, he took up a combat position in a sentry box near the substation and prepared himself for the inevitable confrontation. It was then that he heard agonizing screams coming from someone who definitely did not seem to wield an enemy weapon or pose any danger. A lady. A civilian. She repeated desperately that they had just killed a man.
Jaime wanted to leave the guard post, which had a certain strategic elevation, which is why the woman was considerably far from his position. Meters are miles in combat. Despite the difficulty, he tried to come to her aid. Without seeing how or even at what instant it happened, Jaime was hit by a bullet in an unappealable trajectory. His arm received the totality of the impact and his armor fell abruptly to the ground; an action that he, in all his bodily integrity, would reply instantly in order to protect his life, already compromised previously by the chaos of the crossfire.
Already covered, Jaime quickly noticed the aggravating bleeding, whose overflowing pectoral descent was increasing unabated. It magnified with each passing second. His colleagues at the substation came to his aid, took him back to the main facility and provided medical assistance. They managed to tighten Jaime’s arm with a makeshift tourniquet in an effort to prevent him from losing muscle sensation and subsequently losing his limb. Such assistance, unfortunately, was not as effective in mitigating the emotional shock as it was in alleviating the physical pain.
In those moments when the endless secretion of adrenaline reigns, making the right decisions becomes the greatest challenge; they are sentences that emerge due to the immediacy of their requirement, and Jaime did not hesitate to assume the most important of all: he grabbed a pistol from his armament, which also included machine guns and grenade launchers provided by the National Police as part of the equipment of the headquarters. And so, with total conviction, he prepared to act in the face of the possibility of the worst happening: “As soon as a guerrilla or something enters here… I’ll take my own life”, Jaime decided in a few moments. He was already seriously wounded. He preferred to carry out such a resolution rather than be kidnapped or killed by the insurgents responsible for the attack.
“It was better to die on my own than wait for them to kill me. I assimilated it as part of my preparation, it’s what it means to face the scenario of being captured and tortured,” says Jaime as he recalls the sequence in detail. Undesirable moments. About forty minutes elapsed before the end of the harassment.
Along with the prevailing despair of danger, Jaime had to remember his history. His life, which he contemplated sacrificing if he was forced to. Few myths enjoy greater popular recognition than that which affirms the existence of a fleeting second in which the most precious personal memories parade before the eyes of those who face moments so critical that they threaten to become their last. It is particular that such a sumptuous experience can occur both in the vestige of those who leave this world and in those who still remain in it, living. Like Jaime.
He was born in Lenguazaque, a modest municipality in Cundinamarca, located a little more than two hours from the capital. The place owes its name to the Muisca toponym that refers to the “end of the lands of the zaque”, in allusion to the noble ruler of this hierarchical category who frequented the area to bathe in its hot springs. Pre-Columbian times. The zaque ruled as well as served, he must have had such a vocation.
In the same way, mythically coinciding with the story of one of the most important characters with whom he shares his birthplace, Jaime discovered as a child an innate will to help in his being. A natural predisposition to help others. He lived his first stages of life in the bosom of a consolidated marriage of which he was the fourth and last child. He permanently enjoyed the affection and family union that corresponded to his home since it was forged, being the one who with greater fervor would receive such attentions as the youngest of his siblings.
Upon completion of his academic baccalaureate preparation, he immediately set out for military service the following day. He received honors on a Friday and volunteered at the promptness of Saturday. He was persuaded by his own vocation of service discovered in his childhood, accompanied by an unmistakable attitude of moral rigidity that leads him to remain faithful to his values and principles, which he considers to possess “at the root”. These qualities, as essential as they are immovable, have characterized him for as long as he can remember. Jaime is also identified by a warm and calm attitude, which rarely gives way to other impulses not to be confused with the withdrawal that precedes him. Some call it shyness. A disciplined, unwavering and loyal man. Jaime chose his profession in complete accordance with the person he is.
He spent a year and a half performing his basic military service as a conscript. At the end of this stage, he began his training as a patrolman of the National Police, with the advice of a family member who was a pensioner of the institution. After a few months, Jaime graduated after completing the corresponding course, which he completed in the municipality of Fusagasugá. It was 2005. The ceremonial occasion was the occasion for a touching family reunion in which Jaime would have the opportunity to say goodbye temporarily to his loved ones; since, already in compliance with his newly obtained position, he would be transferred to a new job to begin to exercise his renewed functions.
The destination was the city of Cali. Along with thirty other colleagues who also graduated with honors, the now police officer left in a bus for the distant Sucursal del Cielo. The first weeks of his stay consisted mainly in taking induction courses on the Cali situation: recurrent civilian problems, demographic distribution and habituation to local traditions were some of the topics that were protocolally taught to the new police units that arrived at the modern operational point.
“That training was instructed in preparation for getting to know the area, the incidents and their management. It is important to become familiar with the area because not all communities are the same; traditions among people change and cannot be imposed. That influences a lot because, for example, the idea of good behavior of the people in front of the authorities has been lost a lot, but at that time something was still maintained,” says Jaime, remembering that stage of police service when he was only twenty-one years old. Experience is earned.
His adaptation was difficult and the tedious daily routine became evident, which kept him away from his family, the environment he knew and the day-to-day life he was used to in his old home. Far from where he was born and raised. From home.
The innate conditions of responsibility and autonomy with which Jaime was now burdened were great character builders for a young man who was barely in his twenties. Almost as a fruit of that personal growth, he was soon immersed in the next step of his service career: after a brief period of no more than two months in Cali, he was informed that he would be transferred to Buenaventura.
This notification was accompanied by a corresponding reason: additional personnel was required at one of the local stations in the coastal city. The police needed to renew their public assistance there. The change was felt immediately. Jaime remembers how he noticed, just after a few days, the abysmal difference in the aura surrounding that place compared to the already partially assimilated Cali environment. Buenaventura is one of the most violent cities in the country. For 2007, one of the years Jaime was there, a total of 373 homicides were registered, a figure verified by the National Center of Historical Memory.
Protocol safety warnings were issued on a permanent basis. Jaime and his colleagues received all kinds of exacerbating directives from their instructors that corresponded to the high risk involved in operating in their new workplace. “It was too hard. They killed a lot of policemen. Every day. One or two. It didn’t matter who they were or if we hadn’t known each other long: the bond we shared made us close. We were friends. We were almost like family, and for all of us it was very sad,” recalls Jaime. Every step he took in his career within the police brought with it a greater degree of commitment as he was also constantly experiencing the conflict. Always in the flesh. Buenaventura was a sudden glimpse of reality. Each assignment was more dangerous than the last.
Jaime not only witnessed at close range the overt violence that became, with extreme crudeness, the habituality of his routine; but, as a public servant, he was the one who was mainly exposed to such a threat. Even so, he stood firm for not a short time, since he worked until 2008, when, after thinking about it on more than one occasion, he decided to request a voluntary transfer to another location. At that time, the alternative available to police patrolmen to carry out such a reassignment was to choose between two departments to which the institution had the capacity to direct them. Jaime then contemplated the possibility of returning to Cundinamarca. He would have found it pleasant and familiar. Not so the second option, the latter being the one that would be approved. Jaime nodded. He would travel to Norte de Santander.
Upon arriving in the border department, Jaime found himself at a reflective crossroads that led him to question once again the favorability of the change. He convinced himself with effort that it was a positive change. It had come about as a result of a cause that made him impatient. He longed for well-being. There is no one who desires distress, but there are those who tolerate it, and he had done so for too long. He knew what he deserved. However, by that time he would also have to remember an unfortunate, although popular, omen that is usually spread among the ranks of the Police: “I believe that all colleagues have the same… After a few years they all have the same dilemma: that they should not ask for a transfer. It’s not good, they say it’s bad luck. That’s very sacred. Supposedly, one should never ask to be relocated because it’s like looking for death.” Until then, Jaime had not attached great importance to the rumor. The vivid danger he experienced before his eyes took on much more force than that which could only be foreseen through superstitions. Natural.
Jaime’s coupling was far from immediate. Much less easy. As it happened to him in Buenaventura. The bad omen that troubled him was confronted with his own personal convictions, he thought of the stories of comrades who had participated in armed confrontations in the framework of complex tactical operations in which, fortunately, the men did not suffer major mishaps and managed to successfully overcome each situation. However, among those brave men, the same belief was perpetuated that, in some inexplicable way, those who were part of those commands because of a voluntary reassignment, carried with them a great propensity to suffer the ravages of some misfortune.
As in Cali, Jaime received an induction cycle designed to strengthen his adaptability to the new environment. This kind of training had as its central axis the permanent study of the measures and precautions to be taken given the geography of the place: La Gabarra, a township of just over fifteen thousand inhabitants whose location stands out because it is surrounded by the silhouette of the Catatumbo River, an extensive border flow that crosses the national borders fifty-two kilometers north from the exact point where the Tarra River does the same. Already in Venezuelan territory, both streams join their paths in the neighborhood of Boca de Tarra, an area adjacent to the emblematic Lake Maracaibo, with which it not only shares proximity, but also the extreme weather conditions for which it is so popular.
Each week, Jaime’s command was tasked with writing detailed security reports to the Ministry of Defense. These documents recorded, with increasing frequency, alarming figures resulting from the criminal operations taking place in the region. Jaime was then moved to the village of Tres Bocas, with immediate proximity to La Gabarra and an equally disturbing atmosphere. Maybe more so. It is the desolate reality of almost every settlement in Catatumbo. The threats in the area are constant. The danger and adversity to which both members of the security forces and the civilian population are exposed is palpable from miles away, even from the virtuality of a screen. The satellite image of coordinates 8.635504, -72.693603, for example, is located in an adjacent point of the Astilleros-Tibú road, which connects the municipality of the same name with the only passable access by land to Tres Bocas. At the same location, written on a rural fence, it clearly reads:
“ELN present. It is somewhat incredulous to assimilate that the people in the image actually conceive the warnings displayed next to them as a matter of course. It seems so. Two men on a parked motorcycle are talking to a woman. They are just a few meters away from the sign. There are scenes whose normalization is not normal.
The engraving is on the main road, which makes it appear isolated. However, as you go further into the only nearby settlement that surrounds the road, more slogans appear. A new one each time. “FARC-EP Ft 33” and “ELN 55 years” are the slogans repeated everywhere. Several soldiers of the National Army militarize the area. The urbanism of the city graffiti seems to take on a new meaning in comparison; the allegories to the insurgent presence in Tibú are done in the same way, with the same style even, but they emanate an abysmally different sensation. The city is art. It’s the intention that counts, they say. Some strokes were made to beautify and others to intimidate.
Due to the violent situation in the area and as a sign of support for the uniformed personnel operating there, various reinforcement groups frequented the areas near the urban center of the municipality. This happened gradually in 2010. In one of these tours, a command of the Mobile Squadrons of Carabineros (EMCAR) arrived in Tres Bocas, where Jaime and his colleagues were already working in the local substation. The troop was present to patrol and monitor the perimeter, as well as to document any relevant security events that had occurred up to that time.
To access the village by the only available road, it is necessary to cross a bridge located at the mouth of the road. Police protocol indicates that this type of elevation must be traversed on foot, and not on board the vehicles available at the time, as is usually the case on other stretches of road. This was done. The squadron crossed the platform walking in formation and the car in which they were being transported continued on, occupied only by its driver.
The carabineros remained for about four hours on the periphery of the local houses. When they needed to leave, they returned to the bridge and, confident and reassured that they had ruled out any imminent danger linked to the structure, they crossed back. However, not all the men were walking this time. Some were inside the galley and, almost at the other end of the road, the vehicle exploded. After the abrupt explosion, chaos immediately ensued.
After a few days, the hypothesis that a member of the ELN was in the vehicle and had triggered the detonation began to gain strength. Jaime witnessed the magnitude of the tragedy. It happened just dozens of meters from his location. Right there he was able to observe how the process of removing the dead bodies was being carried out. The attack took the lives of each and every one of them.
During the following weeks, of insane psychological burden, the Tres Bocas police substation received numerous threats. They were recurrent messages. Those responsible intended to remind Jaime and his colleagues of the imminent danger they were in. Armed conflict tactics. For the combatant, to use to his advantage a moment of consternation like the one that was now growing in the township implies an unparalleled opportunity to magnify his figure. It is the common pattern of the conflict. Violence is personified.
Like a fictional prophecy, the twilight of November 20, 2010 arrived. Few months passed. The threats became reality that night. Years of life and seconds of memory placed Jaime once again at the epicenter of that extensive harassment of which he and his companions were victims. There he was. Expectant. Wounded. In full conviction of taking his own life if necessary.
The endless rain and the plethoric thickness of the air were just two of the many adverse conditions that gave way to the hostile weather conditions that Saturday, which in turn made it impossible to access air reinforcements to provide emergency support. The helicopters had no way to land. Little more than that eternity had elapsed in barely twenty minutes. Centuries of entrenchment.
Some of Jaime’s colleagues suggested leaving the substation on the alleged recommendation of the commander in chief, as he believed that the attackers would end up blowing up the facility. That was their objective. In the midst of the uncertainty, the patrolmen were later informed of an opposite indication: they had to maintain their position. The colonel in charge of the contingency was informed directly by the commander, at which time the new instruction was made known.
While waiting for much-needed help, Jaime and his companions noticed, in a more than unexpected instant, the sudden cessation of gunfire. The crisscross of the blackened metal of the bullets against the concrete walls and the sonorous explosion of their action faded away to give way to a few seconds of relief. They were breathing. Still, the last thing the men would allow themselves to do would be to let their guard down, so they remained in the same state of alertness until it was deemed prudent. Around eleven o’clock at night, they were able to confirm with certainty that the assailants had left.
A helicopter finally arrived in the area as soon as it was possible. Jaime was taken to the Erasmo Meoz Hospital in the city of Cúcuta. The nearest one. Once examined at the health center, the doctors realized that the integrity of his arm was totally compromised: the bullet had pierced his humerus, the articulating bone of the scapula. It was crushed. It was then that, given the seriousness of the wounds, Jaime needed to be transferred to Bogota. The referral was also necessary due to the absence of sufficient means in the Cucuta clinic to carry out the appropriate treatment.
By then, Jaime was beginning to assimilate the gravity of what had happened with greater temperance, although not with acceptance. He was aware that, henceforth, his life would be completely transformed and the overwhelming sense of anguish that this event generated in him became present with immediacy. “I was psychologically unprepared for what happened. I had plans. I had a life project and things to do. I would go back to see my family and my girlfriend, with whom I planned to get organized. In the end I ended up with her. Now I don’t know if it was fate or chance,” Jaime reflects.
He began to receive therapeutic care promptly. His body and mind were treated daily as a subsidy to a man who was not only the victim of such a fateful attack on his person, but who also received the ravages of such misfortune in devout and unblemished fulfillment of his work: to protect and serve. He now had a meritorious reversal of roles. He was served and protected.
His recovery process was progressing comfortingly on the physical level. By means of prosthetic implants, he was able to partially recover the mobility of his affected arm. However, about seven centimeters of the limb were also trimmed off, according to medical opinion. Visually, the elongation looks somewhat shorter than its counterpart and the skin relief shows traces of the collision.
In the meantime, his mental state, heavily compromised, began to be attended by means of periodical attendances to specialized psychiatry and psychology sessions. He was diagnosed with anxiety disorder as part of his conditions. “It’s something you only know about yourself. Personal experiences that people don’t understand because they don’t have the capacity. They don’t know the conflicts and defects of their own personality, so they won’t be able to see those of others either. There is a lot of stigmatization of the disabled,” says Jaime. In his individual experience, he has noticed that many people tend to validate the crippling condition to a greater extent when they observe certain extreme characteristics in those who have it: they have to see them, necessarily, without their two arms or legs, in a paraplegic or even terminal state.
For Jaime, however, the disability goes far beyond what can be seen at first glance, involving a series of adverse consequences that become simply unforeseeable for those who have to suffer them. One of them is the mental chaos of thinking about many activities that can never be performed again. “When you have the quality of serving and you see that you can no longer do it, you question and judge yourself. You regret wondering if you would have been better off being a bad person, one of those who intentionally harms society, others. Because then maybe this wouldn’t have happened to him”. Jaime was declared unfit for police service. The emotional burden of not being able to exercise his vocation, to serve his purpose, is colossal. Not feeling useful. He has relapsed in several consequent crises, even requiring hospitalization.
The situation has been equally difficult for his family, who, even with the permanent support they give him, face the sadness of witnessing first hand the change in Jaime’s life project, as well as the new recurring condition of his health. One of his projects was to continue his training within the National Police. To educate himself and study. After what happened that night, it has meant an enormous effort and strength to overcome the thoughts that plague him: he questions the purpose of specializing now that he will no longer be able to work in the institution.
In 2014, he was justly pensioned by the National Police because of what happened. Since then, he has remained focused on the immersive activities of the support groups created by the internal administration of the public force. He also undertook English studies for a while. His whole process of adaptation is subject, mainly, to psychological intervention, which he considers decisive as a personal help. However, he has participated in various therapeutic processes dynamited between the criteria of several professionals, one of the reasons why his progress has not been linear.
Jaime also prefers to keep a certain reserve on the subject in all types of social interaction. He was already calm and gentle before. The scarcity of general knowledge regarding mental health issues in the adverse environments where he has had the misfortune to find himself has led him to experience the stigmatization of those who do not fully understand the nature and complexity of a non-physical pathology. But Jaime feels it. It is he who lives it. And it is no one else but himself who will overcome it.
Just as destiny provided him with an experience of such caliber, it also led him down a path that not everyone has: the opportunity to continue living. The opportunity not to give up is a desire that, unfortunately, was not granted to many other heroes. And so it is: the dark omen of voluntary transfer did not come true.
“Jaime is still here. He didn’t die. Whether it’s worth it that he did is his next battle. Next mission and coming combat. The will with which for so many years he served others is the same will with which he must now serve himself. He knows what he deserves”.
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