Lizbeth Perez looks fearful as she gazes out onto the postcard-perfect fishing bay of Taganga, on Colombia's Caribbean coast, recalling the moment she last spoke to her uncle in September.
He was a kind man, a good person, a friend. A good father, uncle, son. He was a cheerful person. He loved his work and his fishing.
Alejandro Carranza said goodbye to his family early in the morning on 14 September, before going out on his boat as usual, his cousin Audenis Manjarres told state media. He left from La Guajira, a region in neighbouring Venezuela, he said.
The next day, U.S. President Donald Trump announced that a U.S. strike in international waters had targeted a vessel that had departed Venezuela, claiming three people he described as extraordinarily violent drug-trafficking cartels and narco-terrorists were killed.
Ms. Perez has not seen her uncle since. His five children are missing their dad, she says, and the family is still waiting anxiously for answers, not knowing if he was even on the boat hit in the strike.
The truth is we don't know it was him, we don't have any proof that it was him, apart from what we saw on the news.
The U.S. began striking alleged drug-trafficking boats in the Caribbean in September, before expanding the operation to the Pacific. So far 83 people have been killed in at least 21 strikes, according to U.S. statements.
U.S. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth says that the campaign is aimed at removing narco-terrorists from our hemisphere and protecting America from the drugs that are killing our people.
These strikes have attracted condemnation in the region and raised concerns about breaches of international law. Colombian President Gustavo Petro has criticized the strikes, asserting Colombian citizens were aboard the boat struck on 15 September, with claims that Mr. Carranza was among the casualties.
The White House responded by looking forward to President Petro retracting his baseless and reprehensible statement.
As local fishermen observe increased aerial surveillance and ongoing military operations, tensions rise within their communities, questioning the balance of combating drug trafficking and ensuring civilian safety.
Mr. Carranza, who comes from a large family in the small fishing village of Gaira, is remembered fondly, yet represented in stark contrasts by political narratives. His past does not define his legacy as loved ones seek justice and answers amidst chaos.
With looming discussions on U.S. interventions in Venezuela and the broader implications for Colombian society, fishermen like 81-year-old Juan Assis Tejeda express apprehension, uncertain about their fate in the eyes of a foreign government.
The fishing villages now serve as grim reminders of the complex interplay between drug trafficking, international relations, and the innocent lives at stake, as families like Carranza's await clarity in a situation marred by violence and governmental rhetoric.
