Venezuelans mourn loved ones killed in protests and the last vestiges of democracy

Jeison Gabriel España left his home on July 28 to vote for the first — and last — time in his short life.

A day after he cast his vote in the presidential election that united millions of Venezuelans in a call for change, 18-year-old España was shot dead in the street.

The country’s authoritarian leader, Nicolás Maduro, had claimed victory despite overwhelming evidence that the opposition candidate had won, then sent in security forces to quell dissent.

“Why did they kill my child?” cried Mr. España’s aunt, who had raised him, at his funeral.

Now Venezuela is in mourning, not just for the two dozen or so people killed in violent protests, but for the last vestiges of a long-torn democracy. What little space there was for resistance in the country is disappearing by the day, if not the hour, as an angry Mr. Maduro attacks an electorate that tried to vote him out.

For years, many Venezuelan families torn apart by migration believed that they would eventually come together in an improved, if not entirely democratic, Venezuela. After the elections, many buried that dream.

“I will never go back to Venezuela,” said a young woman, a data scientist living in Chile, who asked that her name not be published because her mother and other family members remained in her home country. “Venezuela has become my worst nightmare.”

In Caracas, the capital, police set up checkpoints to search phones for signs of dissent. Black Xs appear on the homes of suspected opposition voters. Security forces arrest ordinary citizens for the slightest sign of protest.

In the past, it was mostly activists who were at risk of arrest. But according to a watchdog group, Penal Forum, more than 1,400 people have been arrested in recent weeks. Many are ordinary citizens and more than 100 are under 18. Authorities are canceling the passports of human rights activists and others, leaving them stuck in the country. Journalists are fleeing after tips that intelligence services are pursuing them.

On Saturday, National Guard members dragged away a priest in Zulia state as his parish looked on.

“Christ, the Prince of Peace,” they sang, falling to their knees as he disappeared from view.

In the past, the government generally avoided arresting church figures.

The country’s opposition leaders, Edmundo González and María Corina Machado, have tried to maintain a message of optimism. Although their public appearances since the vote have been rare, they have not been arrested.

On Saturday, hundreds of people gathered in Caracas to support their movement worldwide, despite the government’s deployment of thousands of security forces in the city.

“We are not afraid!” shouted opposition supporters, as many waved photocopies of the “actas,” or counting forms, printed on voting machines on July 28.

Ms. Machado was there, too, speaking from the roof of a truck. But Mr. González did not appear. Attending such gatherings carries a high risk of arrest — for leaders and supporters — and it is unclear how long these events can last.

There is usually censorship.

“Freedom!” two people dared to shout during the funeral procession of Olinger Montaño, a 24-year-old hairdresser who died on the same day as Mr España.

Other mourners quickly silenced them. At the cemetery in Caracas, where Mr. Montaño’s mother wept by his coffin, no one shouted for justice or dared to raise the tricolor national flag.

“Today it was him,” said a friend, “and now it could be us.”

The New York Times attended the funerals and reviewed the death certificates of five young men killed in protests in the days after the election, and interviewed the families of several others. To protect their protection, The Times is withholding the names of many of the people who spoke for this article.

Mr. Maduro has publicly doubted the veracity of the deaths. Tarek William Saab, the chief prosecutor and a political ally of the president, has said the dead are not victims but actors.

“They fall to the ground and pour ketchup on the person,” he said at a recent press conference, claiming that the government would track down and arrest people who had “staged” their deaths.

Mr España, an 18-year-old man, had never known a government other than that of the socialist movement that came to power in 1999.

His parents died when he was a boy, and his aunt took him in. They lived in a poor part of Caracas and were in great need. But he did not want to migrate, as millions of other Venezuelans had done. He wanted to vote.

The day after he cast his vote, Mr. España joined neighbors in a protest for the first time in his life, his aunt said. But Mr. Maduro had already sent security forces and allied gangs, called colectivos, onto the streets. That night, Mr. España’s aunt said got a phone call: Her son was dead.

A single shot to the chest, his death certificate states. It is unclear who killed him.

In the July 28 election, Maduro, in power since 2013, ran against González, a previously unknown former diplomat who enjoyed the support of Machado, a popular opposition leader.

Maduro has long organized elections to give his authoritarian government a semblance of legitimacy, often manipulating the system to his advantage.

As this year’s vote approached, few believed Maduro would relinquish power even if he lost. The United States has offered a $15 million reward for information leading to his capture, and the International Criminal Court is investigating him for crimes against humanity. Both make him vulnerable if he leaves office.

Still, the overwhelming support for the González-Machado movement lit a flame among many who hoped for a miracle. Perhaps Mr. Maduro would cave and flee to a friendly country?

Then, after the polls closed, Jorge Rodríguez, president of Venezuela’s legislature and a powerful ally of Maduro, appeared on television. “We can’t tell you the results,” he said, grinning broadly, “but we can show you our faces.”

The government claims that Mr. Maduro won 52 percent of the vote, but has not provided evidence to support this. The opposition, which has collected printed counts of more than 80 percent of ballot boxes and posted them online, says Mr. González won with 67 percent of the vote.

Maduro’s claim to have won the election has been widely condemned, with even normally conservative political analysts calling the election an outright theft.

The United States has said it considers Mr. González the winner. The European Union and Venezuela’s neighbors Colombia and Brazil have refused to recognize Mr. Maduro as the winner.

A United Nations report released on Tuesday found that the country’s electoral body “failed to meet basic measures of transparency and integrity essential for the conduct of credible elections.”

It is unlikely that the state will hold people accountable for the victims of the demonstrations; similar crimes have gone unpunished in the past.

Dorián Rondón, 22, from Caracas, left his home on July 29 to protest with two cousins ​​and his younger brother. Around 10 p.m., amid tear gas and gunfire, the group lost sight of Mr. Rondón. His brother spent most of the night searching for him.

Finally, at noon the next day, a photo circulated in the community’s text messages showing Mr. Rondón’s body lying in the bushes, clinging to his backpack.

Mr Rondón’s death certificate states that he died from a gunshot wound that hit his lung.

At his funeral, his mother said she was so angry she could barely cry. Her hope now, she said, is to escape Venezuela with her youngest son.

Maduro’s new term does not begin until January, and the opposition, the United States and the governments of Colombia and Brazil are using the time to negotiate with Maduro.

Their goals include convincing him to step down, reach a power-sharing deal with the opposition or at least agree to more democratic terms for local and parliamentary elections next year.

However, officials from all three countries are skeptical whether the negotiations will lead to change.

Recently, far from Caracas, on Venezuela’s western border, a group of classmates held up the body of Isaías Fuenmayor, wrapped in a coffin.

At 15, Isaías is one of the youngest victims of the post-election unrest, and he is not even old enough to vote.

His mother cried in pain as they marched to the cemetery. She said her son had not participated in a demonstration. Instead, he had run into protesters after leaving a rehearsal for a birthday party and was killed, she said. His death certificate said he was shot in the neck.

Friends and neighbors of Isaías made three signs in honor of the funeral.

The first one said, “They stole Isaiah’s dreams.”

The second read, “Isaiah, we will always remember you.”

And the third dared to call for action: “Justice for Isaiah.”

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