Two investigative journalism organizations have unearthed evidence they say validates corruption claims made by a Colombian reporter who released a chilling video predicting his own death at the hands of those he exposed.
“If you want to kill me, kill me. But I’ll tell you straight up: You won’t silence me.”
These were the words of Rafael Moreno during a 37-minute video that was broadcast live on Facebook in July 2022, in which he condemned alleged embezzlement of public money in Colombia.
He knew his reports made him vulnerable, and his grim prediction was proved right: A gunman killed him in October in a bar in the town of Montelibano in northern Colombia, which he had opened to make ends meet. No arrests have been made.
However, nine days before his death, Moreno told Forbidden Stories — a journalistic collective that safeguards the work of reporters at risk — that he believed construction companies were illegally extracting sand and rock from the River Ure in northern Colombia.
Paris-based Forbidden Stories and Cuestion Publica, a Colombian investigative journalism organization, published a report Wednesday that they say validates Moreno’s claims.
In response to a Freedom of Information request, Custodio Acosta Urzola, major of San Jose de Ure, a town in northern Colombia, said he signed contracts with several construction companies to build and fix roads, Forbidden Stories reported.
At least one of those companies is under investigation by a regional environment agency, Corporacion Autonoma de los Valles del Sinu y del San Jorge, or CVS. The company is accused of “extraction in the bed of the river,” Forbidden Stories reported.
“This seems to have been carried out without the required authorizations and permits, which is worrying for the ecosystems and the local population,” said CVS.
Moreno’s evidence
The CVS investigation was prompted by a complaint from Moreno, who provided CVS with evidence. He filmed trucks digging gravel from the River Ure bed.
Acosta said in response to the FOI request that his administration was not authorized to issue permits to mine gravel, “much less to make agreements with individuals in this regard.”
Laurent Richard, founder of Forbidden Stories, said that before Moreno was killed, he contacted the collective to ask it to continue his work if anything happened to him.
“We are an international consortium whose mission is to continue the work of murdered journalists,” he told VOA.
“Killing the messenger will not kill the message. Killing the journalist will not kill the story.”
Richard said it was up to the authorities to decide if they would act on Forbidden Stories’ latest report.
Moreno’s death shows the risks faced by journalists in Colombia to expose the truth in a country haunted by violence for decades.
The province where he lived is along the drug-trafficking route in the South American nation.
Corruption scandals and civil unrest have persisted in Colombia even after a 2016 peace deal between the government and the left-wing Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, or FARC.
Scores of killings
Journalists trying to expose wrongdoing remain vulnerable. Since 1977, 165 journalists have been killed — five last year — according to the Bogota-based Foundation for Press Freedom, or FLIP.
In November last year, Wilder Cordoba was fatally shot by two men on motorbikes during a reporting trip in the southern Colombian province of Narino. Four days before, he had received a series of threats, all written in capital letters.
Police ruled out robbery as none of his possessions was taken. No arrests have been made.
Cordoba was the director of the online independent news outlet Union Television, which says it has about 30,000 viewers.
The father of two often posted news about alleged local political corruption and crime, and he criticized unfinished public works projects and the poor state of local roads.
“Everyone has a good idea who was the brains behind my brother’s murder,” Harry Cordoba told VOA, without naming names.
“Wilder knew everyone, and he thought that people would look after him. Sadly, this was not the case.”
Change in violence
Daniel Chaparro, of FLIP, said journalists were being targeted by local crime groups sometimes linked to politicians.
“The pattern of violence toward journalists has changed from the 1980s and 1990s, when drug cartels based in Medellin or elsewhere would target editors of major newspapers,” he told VOA.
“After the 2016 peace deal, it has become more regional, and journalists reporting on local issues, who have little protection, have been targeted with extreme violence.”
Chaparro said that while there had been some prosecutions of the killers of journalists, the Colombian authorities’ reactions were inadequate.
“There is virtual impunity to kill a journalist in Colombia,” he said.
In August of this year, gunmen killed the 22-year-old son of Moreno’s friend, Walter Alvarez, a fellow journalist who had accompanied Moreno on trips to film trucks digging up the river. No arrests have been made.
Forbidden Stories reported Alvarez later received a WhatsApp message reading: “You will soon be keeping Moreno company … We are going to kill and burn you.”
‘You’ll be dead’
Yamir Pico, another journalist who worked with Moreno on the Ure River investigation, also was threatened by armed men who burst into his flat.
“One told me, ‘We don’t want to kill any other journalists, but the next time you touch the San Jose de Ure affair, you’ll be dead,” Pico told Forbidden Stories.
They took away his computer, notebooks and two USB keys that Moreno had given him before his death, he said. Pico fled Colombia.
Pico has asserted the companies extracting gravel are in league with politicians and the Clan de Golfo, Colombia’s most powerful criminal group.
He told Forbidden Stories the companies save money on public contracts by getting gravel for free, without paying for a permit or buying it from a legitimate supplier.
“It represents a fortune. That’s why they are ready to kill anyone,” Pico said. “It’s why they sent two hitmen to my house.”