Although he himself recognizes that he is not, properly speaking, a union leader, the political activism that Néstor Astudillo has carried out in certain neuralgic union sectors that are particularly dissatisfied with Chavismo has been so effective that it generated a furious reaction from the Government of Nicolás Maduro and earned him a sentence of 16 years in prison.
Astudillo is a member of the National Directorate of Red Flag, a curious Marxist party of “carbonario” political cadres, daring and committed, but an enemy of Chavismo, and an ally of the most intransigent sectors of the Venezuelan opposition.
At 38 years old, Astudillo is a civil engineer who graduated from the National University of the Llanos Ezequiel Zamora, Unellez, and lives in Charallave, in the Valles del Tuy area, a dormitory region near Caracas where sectors of the popular middle class coexist with extreme poverty neighborhoods.
Along with Gabriel Blanco, Reinaldo Cortés, Alcides Bracho, Alonso Meléndez and Emilio Negrín, Astudillo was one of “the six union members” sentenced to 16 years in prison in an express trial, accused of criminal association and terrorism.
They were released in the Maduro government's agreement with the Venezuelan opposition and the United States, in exchange for businessman Alex Saab.
“My parents, my dad and my stepfather, are police officers,” he says.
“Despite being a leftist militant, I understand that dynamic.
I respect the police profession, and that helped me deal with them in prison.
People hate cops until they need them.
From one of the prisons, in the end, I was able to go to teach classes in other prisons, such as Boleíta and San Agustín.”
Ask.
In which places was he imprisoned?
Answer.
I was first in a shelter center of the Dgcim (General Directorate of Military Counterintelligence), without a court order of any kind.
It was a clandestine center.
I later learned that it was not far from one of the Fuerte Tiuna shooting ranges.
There they held Captain Acosta Arévalo captive, who was tortured to death.
Q.
How long were you there?
A.
Three hours.
From there they took me to La Quebradita, a detention center of the Bolivarian National Police.
There I was in a cell with common prisoners.
Q.
What were those cells like, the conditions of your confinement?
A.
There were three cells, with some corridors.
At the time of arriving there there was no overcrowding in those spaces.
Other accused union members were transferred there.
That dungeon was relatively habitable, with mattresses on the floor.
The prisoners behaved.
We stayed there for another week.
Q.
Where did you go next?
A.
To the La Yaguara Detention Center, in Caracas, also owned by the PNB.
There were about 215 detainees and eight cells of varying sizes.
In the cell where I was when they released us, there were 42 people.
In cell A, which was nearby, the same size as ours, they had 120 prisoners.
Q.
Was it common to see violence among prisoners?
A.
Yes, there was.
The “prison routine” is an iron code that prison imposes on you.
It is based on imposition and domination.
Everything has to be paid for.
The first thing the prisoners want to know when you enter is what you did.
The seriousness of the crime imposes a logic of the prison routine.
Anyone who enters for rape or murder of children will do very badly.
When the prisoner is a politician, many times the prisoners are confused, the treatment is different.
At the beginning it was complex, very aggressive, but we later had many political conversations with thugs.
Q.
How did you feel in prison?
A.
In an unknown world, different from the street.
As a politician, I would dare to say that it was an even interesting experience.
We had daily visits, the family brings you food.
There was a sunbathing patio, but as are all things in prisons here, you had to pay to have the right to use it.
Since I did not want to pay, I spent the first months in the cell, with two authorized departures per day, for bathing and toileting, one very early in the morning and the other in the afternoon.
If another idea to the bathroom was necessary, you had to ask permission from the officials, and pay to go.
At 5 in the morning, you could see the sun.
He who pays gets the things he needs.
He who doesn't do it, he has to work for the criminal who governs the cells.
I imposed my status as a political prisoner.
In the end I did a lot of work with the prisoners.
Q.
What did you feel, being a political prisoner, when you were informed that you had a 16-year prison sentence on charges of terrorism?
A.
I found out during the trial.
We went to the Palace of Justice 36 times for trials.
I thought it might be more years.
I did not lose my calm, I always kept in mind that, as we were political prisoners, the situation itself was going to allow us to have options in a negotiation, in an amnesty, in an exchange.
Q.
What treatment did you receive from the police and jailers?
A.
Normally, in principle you are just another prisoner.
They don't hit you, they charge you for everything, especially when they see that you studied something, that you don't talk like a thug.
I scare you so that you pay for the things I tell you to pay
.
That changes over time, when they get to know you.
Some police officers ended up being considerate, and they allowed you certain things.
Senior officers avoid having any dealings with you.
Q.
Were you tortured, beaten, mistreated in this judicial process?
A.
Not to me.
John Álvarez (student leader imprisoned in the same procedure), yes, Alcides Bracho was threatened, suffered humiliation and was punished.
Q.
How did you feel when you found out that you were free, after that 16-year sentence?
A.
At first, something of a surprise.
We thought it was possible, but the outcome was brought forward.
I felt joy, of course.
I thought about the prisoners, about the people who stay.
I have proposed to help them and make them visible.
Q.
How do you feel now in this status?
A.
I was imprisoned, but mentally I always felt free.
I lived the experience.
I had intellectual activity, I taught in other prisons.
I didn't stop doing things, political work.
My plan is the same as always, to continue in the social struggle in the country.
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