Inside El Helicoide - Shopping Mall-turned-Political Prison
With the possible exception of Alcatraz Island in the San Francisco Bay, most of the supermax prisons in the United States would not be easy to identify on sight. Many of them look like they could double as hotels or hospitals that were built in the same era; all such buildings being designed with the function of holding as many people as possible. Their typically boxy shapes and narrow windows boast little visual interest. That cannot be said of the Helicoide, Venezuela's infamous penitentiary. The Helicoide, known in Venezuela as "El Helicoide de la Roca Tarpeya," is nothing like the standard build of American penitentiaries. It was never intended to be a prison in the first place. This history of this impressive structure became of special interest to American Rescue Coalition when we learned that Airan Berry and Luke Denman were being held there; political prisoners in Venezuelan custody. The Helicoide has been the default holding center for Venezuelan citizens as well as foreigners who found themselves at odds with the Venezuelan government, unlawfully or otherwise. A closer look at the Helicoide shows us not only the stark reality of where Airan and Luke are being detained, but also a peek behind the curtain at the tempestuous history of Venezuela and her fall from grace.
The Helicoide was developed in the 1950s as a hub of fashion and consumerism; conceived as a shopping mall. It was admired by the U.S. and Europe for it's singular shape and monumental design. It was designed to appeal to the "consumer culture" of other developed countries, in a bid for social progress and competition during a moment in time when the Venezuelan government sought to propel Venezuela into the status of other first-world countries. It was, partially, built as a testimony to the prestige of Venzuela- particularly of it's stunning capitol, Caracas. It could have stood as an exhibition to encourage shopping and entertainment, but it was not to be. Mere months before it's scheduled completion, the project was halted and never finished. It never became the bustling hub of fashion and consumption; a dream unfulfilled.
General Marcos Perez Jiminez (in office from 1952-1958) maintained hold over Venezuela with a military dictatorship; not the first nor the last for the country. However, he was also at the helm of urban modernization and had grand plans for the future of his country. Caracas was once relatively underpopulated and underdeveloped- known more for her coffee and tobacco farms than modern commercial spectacles. General Jiminez had ambitions to change all that, and he saw the potential of Caracas to become the pinnacle of Venezuelan society. It was during his reign that the soil was made ready for the seed of the Helicoide to be planted.
The architect of this most ambitious project was Romero Gutierrez. Gutierrez was contracted by a developer to construct a residential complex in 1955. When he saw the land ("rock," rather) on which he was meant to build the complex, he was inspired by a vision to build something quite different; a shopping center. The Helcoide was conceived in January 1955; it's design was inspired by the Tower of Babel (which was more prophetic than it's progenitors realized at the time) and the Gordon Strong Automobile Objective; the latter being a design of Frank Lloyd Wright. A detailed model of the Helicoide was unveiled on September 23rd, 1955; rocking the architectural world. Two years following its unveiling, Gutierrez created Helicoid C.A., a company that would specifically oversee the construction and promotion of the Helicoid. Sadly, the progress that would be made over the next few years would yeild incredible headway on the project only for the Helicoid to never exist as it's intended purpose. From 1958 to 1961, Caracas was suffering in a tumultuous cycle. Socially and politically, the country itself could not find balance; for many of the same reasons it suffers unrest today. The Helicoide's construction finally halted for good in 1961. The Helicoide was supposed to stand as a symbol not unlike the Eiffel Tower; a grand and inspiring feat of architectural engineering.
Venzuela's architectural history follows its cultural and political history, even in its unrests and upheavals. The Helicoide, from it's inception to it's abandonment, represented both Venezuela's ambitions and her struggles. Social realities undermined whatever may have come of the Helicoide project. It's unfinished spiral is either a monument to a more hopeful time, or a dark reminder of the fact that Venezuela's descent has left many scars across her landscape. It's hypnotic architecture can no longer be recognized as a symbol of ambition.
The Helicoide stands against a background of hills, covered not in trees or scenic meadows, nor even anything else of artistic endeavor. Instead, the monument is buffeted on all sides by slums, surrounded by poverty and fear; the fear of the people who live in it's spiral shadow. Neither the Helicoide nor the spirit in which it was conceived fits in it's surrounding landscape. It looks out of place, like a structure from another civilization. Instead of a glimpse of a hopeful future, it's now a symbol of regression and loss. Inspiration corrupted into a political prison. A haunted place. A curse- perhaps just as literal as symbolic. In addition to levelling two communities to make way for the attention-drawing spiral, it is said that a precolonial indigenous cemetery was lost to the bulldozers. Yes, just like the plot twist of a horror film. This, naturally, led some to believe that the failure of the grand structure's completion was due to a curse- either by the forced evictions or the restless spirits whose graves were desecrated. This is certainly superstition, but that does not mean the belief is entirely without merit.
Over the years, many attempts were made by people- both public and private interest groups- to revive the Helicoide project. But the only uses for which the Helicoide was utilized stood in bleak contrast to its original conception. In the late 1970s, it was used as temporary emergency shelter for flood victims; acting as a refuge for close to ten thousand people. From the years 1979 to 1982 is when the Helicoide's criminal reputation is firmly begun. From 1985 to present, the Helicoide has been both a police headquarters with its own training facility and a prison- a penal penitentiary.
Prior to the reign of Hugo Chavez which began in 1998, Venezuela had the highest reported quality of living in all of South America. In April of 2013, Nicolas Maduro took over for Chavez and, to the present time, continues in his predecessor's authoritarian footsteps; his ascension being celebrated with violent protests, hyperinflation, and skyrocketing homicide rates. From then, continuing today, there has been desperate shortage of medicines and basic necessities. It was under the watch of both these leaders that the reputation of the "Spiral" was firmly cemented as a circle of hell, both Chavez's and Maduro's time in office being marked by the violent and systemic suppression of human rights.
Such is the history of the Helicoide, and a brief look at the last 70 years of Venezuela's dreams and ambitions being dashed on the rocks. It's hard to look at the Spiral and feel anything but anger at what it is now. It becomes a tragedy when we understand that the spirit in which it was created has been so broken over the years, that it is not allowed to dream again of better things. That is ARC's prayer for Venezuela; that someday it's people will be allowed to create, to work towards good and monumental things; instead of living in the shadow of a corrupt government, being crushed by the very thing they built.
Cesar Camejo spent two years in the Helicoide, unlawfully detained under false pretenses. Now living in Florida with his family, Cesar was brave and gracious enough to share with ARC what those two years were like.
ARC: Did you grow up in Venezuela?
Cesar: I was born in 1964, in Queens, NY. But I was raised in Venezuela. My father is Venezuelan, my mother is Colombian. My father worked in construction, as did I. Later, I ran a bank. My grandfather on my mother's side was a lawyer, a member of the Colombian supreme court. My grandfather on my father's side was an engineer. He spent 16 years of his life in exile.
ARC: What did you know about the Helicoide before being taken?
Cesar: I knew a lot, actually. I knew the developer. I met him years before I was taken. His name was Carlos Martinez; a successful architect during the reign of Jiminez. Carlos Martinez developed lots of buildings around the country. During a following economic crisis, Carlos fell into disgrace under the new government. He went bankrupt and lost possession of the Helicoide property.
ARC: What did you know about the Helicoide as a prison?
Cesar: Before I was taken to the Helicoide, I knew what it was like. I was part of a construction company. Later, I was a director of a bank; so I know quite a lot of people, and part of my work was to be informed. When it came to the detentions I was aware of-- it was like Germany in the 1930s, so a lot of people knew what was going on, but everyone justified it. When things are polarized, we justify things. I had known people that were in the Helicoide. A year before my detention, I knew it was a possibility that I might end up there at some point.
ARC: When did the police take you into custody?
Cesar: It was on January 23rd, 2011. I was travelling to Costa Rica, my father was there. He was trying to win a bid on the completion of a highway for his construction company, and I was going there to help with the financial side of the construction. My father knows a lot of construction, but I run the numbers.
The Venezuelan police who detained me said I was trying to "escape" from the country, I was in the Caracas airport. A man came up to me and took me a floor below in the airport. They told me that I was trying to flee the country because there was a warrant out for my arrest for "embezzlement"- which was entirely false. I knew what they were doing. I was a banker, you see. Three days before my detention, an alleged ally of Edgar Hernandez Berehns -president of the Sudeban (bank regulations agency)- asked me to pay $6 million. I refused to do so and told them I wasn't doing what they said I was doing. If I paid the blackmail money, they would bankrupt the whole bank. They thought that if they threatened to send me to the Helicoide, I would pay them ransom money, but I told them I was not going to pay.
There was still sunlight in the sky when they took me to the Helicoide. I never suspected they'd be able to hold me for so long. But once I got there, I realized that they could hold me for a very long time.
ARC: What was it like when you first arrived at the Helicoide?
Cesar: Inside, it was like all typical Venezualan government buildings; all blue and dirty. There was a space next to the entrance for new prisoners who just arrived. It was full of bodily fluids all over the floor. That's where they put people that are "too green," and they are not "ripe." They scare them with what it will be like inside the real prison.
First day, I slept in a large saloon with all the other detainees. I can't describe how dirty it was. None of us had access to a shower. My wife sent clothes and toiletries. I didn't even want to change in that place, I didn't want to get used to being there. They gave me a dirty mattress, which smelled like puke and a pillow that smelled like shit; and I was there for three days, waiting for my hearing. When they took me in front of a judge, the state prosecutors presented their argument, and my attorney presented our counter-argument. I told them that I wasn't doing what they said I was doing.
I told them, "I have no reason to run out of the country, my family is here. Everything is here."
But the judge said, "I know that I am going against your legal and human rights. What I'm doing is against legal procedure, but we are going to hold you captive."
One year after that, we presented our case to the UN, to the Human Rights Council Working Group on Arbitrary Detention. Once again, the representatives of the Venezuelan court presented their argument to UN "impartial" referees, and The UN ruled in my favor. Despite that, the Venezuelan government did what they wanted- and I went back to the Helicoide.
ARC: Were you allowed to see your family?
Cesar: There were arbitrary visiting days, yes. But, often, you would have to pay the guards. They study you, you know. I was a banker. The policemen that work in the Helicoide were salivating because I was a "prize" inmate, they saw me as money. They thought they'd get rich off of me.
Blackmail is one of their favorite tactics. If they couldn't blackmail you by threatening your life or comfort, they'd go after your family. In some cases, family members would be threatened or even kidnapped to try and get prisoners to cough up more cash.
ARC: Did they go after your family?
Cesar: Yes. I remember one morning at around one o'clock, a guard came into my cell and asked about my family, and I knew he was trying to scare me; but I realized that my family had to get out of the country as soon as possible. I have four kids. My oldest is a writer. She published a short story, "If I were Chavez for a Day." Unlike Chavez, she said she'd only do good things and help Venezuela. One day, the director of the Helicoide summoned me and said that there was a warrant for my daughter's arrest (which was false) because her article had made a lot of people angry. So, my daughter had to fly to our family condo in Miami to keep her safe. My family had to leave the country- which was a very hard thing to do. My wife visited me every month while she was in Caracas, but the last year, it became very hard for her to visit.
ARC: How were supplies and food delivered?
Cesar: Food was provided by a family called Colimodios- truly, they are unsung heroes; they prepared food for political prisoners, and the government allowed them to bring food to us. You pay them a small amount, and the family brings the prisoners food every day. Of course, the Helicoide holds the food, and sometimes you don't receive it. They have food in the Helicoide, but it was rotten. It was better to not eat than to eat their rotting food.
When people visited me, my clothes were clean. I was shaved. I bathed. I never allowed myself to lose my will to live. The problem for the captives is the complete lack of respect for a person's very humanity. Nothing tops that. I was raised to believe that you can make your own future. No matter where you come from, you are equal to anyone else. If you work hard enough with focus, and if God gave you the intelligence, you can make it. So, when you are held captive in a place for two years that denies everything you came to believe, it starts to break your spirit.
ARC: Would you please tell us about some of the other abuses the guards committed?
Cesar: There is nothing the guards were not capable of doing. Nothing. They play games. Psychological torture. The guards use two different approaches when it comes to torture- there's the physical violence and then the psychological. Now, because I am a U.S. citizen, the guards did not want to use physical abuse to get what they wanted from me. The man who ran the detention knew that he could get in a lot of trouble for hurting U.S. citizens or other detainees who held dual citizenship. I have a lot of connections with media outlets and knew a lot of people, so they knew if they tortured me, they could get in a lot of trouble. They didn't need to torture me; just detaining me was a victory to them. That was worse than a stick to the back.
In the two years I was there, I saw less than a total of twenty-four hours of sunlight. They could take us out every day, but they didn't. They played these games always. I wasn't beaten. But I suffered. It affected my life. I lost my freedom. They did not respect me, they could do whatever they pleased, and they denied me- denied my right to exist. It's about the disrespect. You take a man's world, you take his work... that hurts more.
ARC: What were some of the other abuses you witnessed?
Cesar: I saw other detainees that were hit, beaten, they were put on lockdown for months without being able to go to the bathroom. The guards would let prisoners puke and shit all over themselves in their cells and they did not care. They laughed about it. They would torture people for days. People died there. People committed suicide there, in addition to being killed by the police. People were beaten unconscious. They knew how to hurt you without leaving marks.
They rape people. Children. Detainees. What's the worst thing you can imagine? Well, they do that.
ARC: What happened that led up to your release?
Cesar: On December 28th, 2013, they released a lot of prisoners who had been detained as "financial" cases, such as myself. But they did not release me. At that point, my family began to wonder if I'd ever be released. That's when I decided to do a hunger strike. I was not going to take it any more. I prepared everything. On January 14th, I took everything out of my cell but water. My wife, who is a doctor, told me how much water I'd have to drink every hour to stay alive. My thought was, "I'm going to hunger strike, and I'm either going to leave or I'm going to die." My hunger strike lasted from Monday through Thursday. I tell you- if you decided to do something unto death, but you don't die, it gives you strength. I was lucky to get my freedom, I know that. The first day I began my hunger strike, they brought food to my cell- which they never do. They made me talk to a doctor and a psychiatrist, who told me I was crazy- and stupid.
My wife was able to see me on January 15th- which was Tuesday; they allowed her to see me and we had a heartfelt conversation that we thought might be the last. After that, she went out to speak to congressman and my lawyers.
Thursday morning, the director of the Helicoide came to my cell at 10am. He said, "This place smells like dead men."
And I said, "I don't have the spirit for jokes."
He told me, "I really don't think they are going to give you your freedom. I think you're making a mistake, and that you're going to die."
I said, "The day that I started my hunger strike was the first time I had control over my life again. I don't care if I have to die, I'm not going to take it anymore."
"I'll be back later," he said, and then he left.
At that point, I knew I was free. In a place like that- corrupt and criminal systems- people don't respect or give reasons to anyone. But when he said, "I'm gonna be back," I knew I was gonna be free that day.
At 1pm, I received notifications from my lawyers that I was going to be freed. The message was, "You're getting out today, don't make a fuss about it. Don't tell anyone; don't tell the press. Don't make a thing out of it."
A few minutes later, I let my wife know what was going on, and we waited until around 7 or 8pm. I packed a few things and quietly left. Then, this guy put me in his truck and took me down the mountain where I met my wife and my brother-in-law and they took me to my sister-in-law's house.
On the following Sunday, the 20th of January, the newspaper headlines read, "Cesar Camejo Paid 5 Million Dollars For His Freedom." Why would they say that? To squash hope. If they made it look like a corrput banker bought his freedom, then no one else could expect to do that. They couldn't let other detainees and future detainees be inspired.
ARC: What else would you like people to know about the Helicoide?
Cesar: When I got out, I went to visit a man who had also been held as a political prisoner. He was taken prisoner under the Hugo Chavez, who accused him of inciting violence against the government. He spent more than ten years in the Helicoide, he suffered a great deal, before they moved him to the Ramo Verde Prison. That's where he was when I went to visit him. When people find out they are going to Ramo Verde, they are very scared of the place. It's known for being brutal. It is hard to remember that day I visited him-- tears came out of my eyes. I realized that the Helicoide was not a prison. It was a nuthouse; it's a place designed to break you. The Helicoide is an asylum where every crime can be committed against every prisoner.
ARC: How did being in the Helicoide change you?
Cesar: I was business-driven, now I am spirit-driven.
I realized how easily and quickly a country can turn for the worse, which is why I'm very worried for the U.S. Every South American country is one election away from another Chavez. People don't understand that socialism is a beautiful lie. Of course, everybody wants equality and a lot of things, but it's a lie. Those ideas just turn into destruction. The power always goes to the government.
When you are young, you are an idealist. And our children see us, they see what happens when we tolerate the corruption of our politicians. And we should never do that. I think we should demand better from our politicians. I don't want to see the same thing that happened in my country happen to U.S. So lets take the good of the countries we were raised in and bring only the good to America.
ARC: What would you say to the families of others who have loved ones imprisoned in the Helicoide?
Cesar: Pray. Look for God. Try to keep in touch as much as possible. Be observant of their state of mind, because it's a complex place to be; because lots of darkness and fears can grow there. It's fertile for dark things to grow in the Helicoide, that place overwhelms you. So let them know that you love them and that you're doing good on the outside. They have to understand that they are trying to show the best that they can and keep in touch with media. Keep fighting. Keep awareness of what the government is up to. Keep raising awareness about the situation. Take pictures.
ARC: What would you say to other people that have been unlawfully detained in the Helicoide?
Cesar: I would say that they're in a situation that surpasses them. You are never ever going to be the same person that you were before. But that is not necessarily a bad thing. We live through a situation that is so difficult, it will show them how strong they were and how resilient they are. And when they make mistakes in the future- because we all do- they will find that they are more capable and more aware-- of themselves, their families, and their country.
It is their duty to show the Venezuelan government that they are better than that. And that they can still have success. The government does not define you.
ARC: What is your hope for Venezuela's future as a country?
Cesar: I pray for a radical change in Venezuela. The government is cancer, and this is a cancer that is spreading- not just in South America, but even to the U.S.- with financing from China, Iran... Once you've been inside of that as a prisoner, you know how they think. There's no room for compromise. They have this phrase: "You can't be half pregnant." You're either free or you're not.
The cancer in Venezuela is going to destroy the rest of South America, because they think they run it all. They have a lot of money. Yes, the U.S. has tons of money, but the politicians don't have the ability to grab that in cash. In Venezuela, the government officials have gold, they have everything in cash. The Venezuelan government is bad. They make a joke of democracy, civil rights, constitional power, and disregard the separation of powers. They just use those words to gain time and space to sabotage any efforts that someone could take to minimize their power. They are capable of anything- whatever they have to do, they will do it. They will do anything to keep their power.
Here, in the U.S., we have to stop voting for anyone that is in good standing with Venezuelan regime leaders. They are drug dealers, they are terrorists. Whatever they can do to hurt the U.S. government, they will do it- they are doing it. A lot of people say Venezuela is destroyed because of the U.S. sanctions. That is a lie. We have had food shortages since 2008, way before the sanctions. The sanctions only make the lives of the leaders more complicated. The Maduro regime needs to find leverage to keep their illegal government in power. They hate the sanctions that make it so they cannot have bank accounts in the U.S. or Switzerland. So whatever they hate, keep doing that!
Cesar's experience speaks volumes, giving us the most visceral and raw picture of what Airan Berry and Luke Denman are facing every day. As Cesar pointed out, the Helicoide is not really a prison at all, it's a nuthouse. An asylum- not for criminals, but for those deemed crazy enough to challenge thecorruption of Venezuela's current regime. While Luke and Airan do support those who long to free Venezuela from tyranny, they do not- as Cesar did not- belong in the Helicoide. We at ARC ask that you share this story that illuminates the undeniable ordeals of what Helicoide inmates experience. We hope that this motivates swift action on the part of the U.S. government, that they move and act quickly on behalf of these two Green Berets- and the other captive Americans- so that they do not languish any longer in this gruesome "Spiral."