She acts sweet, but she's red and dangerous.
Por tercera vez, Keiko Fujimori se presenta ante el Perú como candidata presidencial, cargando el peso de dos campañas anteriores, acusaciones de corrupción y una familia dividida. En una entrevista con Trome en febrero de 2021, la limeña de cuarenta y cinco años trazó su visión de un país que necesita, según ella, firmeza y autoridad para salir de la pandemia y la crisis económica. Su persistencia revela algo más profundo que la ambición política: la convicción de que el momento histórico le pertenece, aunque gran parte del electorado aún dude de ella.
- Fujimori enfrenta su tercera campaña presidencial con investigaciones por lavado de dinero activas y un fiscal que la vigila de cerca, lo que convierte cada declaración pública en un riesgo legal.
- Sus ataques a rivales —Mendoza como una izquierda peligrosa disfrazada de dulzura, Guzmán como un candidato frívolo— revelan una estrategia de contraste que busca definir el campo antes de que lo hagan sus adversarios.
- Propone 70,000 pruebas moleculares diarias y dos millones de empleos mediante microproyectos, intentando transformar su imagen de figura judicial en líder con soluciones concretas.
- El antifujimorismo sigue siendo una fuerza electoral real, y la candidata lo reconoce al pedir simplemente que la escuchen, apostando por el cansancio ciudadano con la política como su mayor aliado.
Keiko Fujimori se sentó con Trome en febrero de 2021 como la segunda candidata en las encuestas, dispuesta a llegar a Palacio de Gobierno por tercera vez. A sus cuarenta y cinco años, la ex primera dama y congresista llegó a la entrevista con la historia encima: dos campañas perdidas, dieciséis meses en prisión preventiva y un movimiento político fracturado por su distanciamiento con su hermano Kenji.
Sobre sus rivales fue directa y teatral. A Julio Guzmán lo llamó "rápido y furioso" por un episodio en Miraflores que encontró digno de burla. A Verónica Mendoza la retrató como Caperucita Roja: aparentemente dulce, pero roja y peligrosa, incapaz de condenar las dictaduras de Maduro, Chávez o Castro. Sobre Martín Vizcarra, cuya vacunación secreta había sacudido al país, dijo que ese solo hecho lo retrataba por completo.
Fujimori se presentó como la encarnación de la autoridad que el Perú necesita: una "democracia dura", firme en la aplicación de las reglas, con el espíritu de su padre pero con pleno respeto a las instituciones. Propuso movilizar a las fuerzas armadas, la empresa privada y las iglesias para aplicar 70,000 pruebas moleculares diarias, y prometió dos millones de empleos a través de miles de microproyectos en todo el país.
Sobre las acusaciones de corrupción fue defensiva pero serena. Cinco peritos forenses del Ministerio Público no encontraron desequilibrio financiero en sus cuentas ni en las de su esposo, dijo. No temía volver a prisión —su tiempo allí la había acercado a Dios y a su familia— pero prefería no hablar más del caso para no darle al fiscal Pérez un pretexto para solicitar nuevamente su detención.
En lo personal, fue cautelosa. Negó haberse opuesto a la libertad de su padre y dejó la reconciliación con Kenji en manos de él. Al antifujimorismo le pidió solo una cosa: que la escuchara. Creía haber aprendido, haber crecido, y que el país, agotado de la política, estaba listo para darle una oportunidad.
Keiko Fujimori sat down with Trome in February 2021 as Peru's second-place presidential candidate, running for the third time and determined to reach the palace. At forty-five, the Lima-born former first lady and congresswoman carried the weight of two previous campaigns, persistent corruption allegations, and a movement fractured by her estrangement from her brother Kenji. She came to talk about her rivals, her vision for Peru, and the accusations that had landed her in prison for sixteen months.
The interview opened on her persistence. When asked if she feared becoming Peru's Lourdes Flores—a perpetual candidate—Fujimori said simply that she liked to compete and expected to win. On the question of whether her campaign was a distraction from the fiscal charges against her, she called it false, claiming the pandemic had prompted her return to electoral politics. She acknowledged irregularities in her 2016 race against Pedro Pablo Kuczynski but conceded that her own congressional bloc had fallen into a cycle of confrontation that, in hindsight, she regretted.
On Martín Vizcarra, the interim president who had succeeded Kuczynski, Fujimori was sharp. She said she had spoken with him twice after he took office but offered no warmth. When asked if he seemed sincere, she laughed and said his secret vaccination—the scandal that had consumed his presidency—painted him entirely. Vizcarra, she suggested, had betrayed the health of all Peruvians. Yet when pressed on her own errors, she admitted she should have communicated better and sought a more constructive relationship with Kuczynski's government.
Her characterizations of opponents were cutting and theatrical. Julio Guzmán, the centrist candidate, she labeled "fast and furious" after he fled a burning building in Miraflores—a moment she found worth mocking. Verónika Mendoza, the leftist standard-bearer, became "Little Red Riding Hood: she acts sweet, but she's red and dangerous." Mendoza wanted to annul the constitution and had never condemned the dictatorships of Maduro, Chávez, or Castro, Fujimori said. On Daniel Olivares and his public discussion of marijuana use, she asked him not to encourage drug consumption, though she acknowledged his right to his private life. She herself had never used drugs, she said.
Fujimori positioned herself as the embodiment of firm governance. Peru needed what she called a "hard democracy"—not soft, but strong—with the spirit and principle of authority her father had embodied, though with absolute respect for democratic institutions. The current government under Francisco Sagasti was wavering and weak, she said. The police had been humiliated and needed restoration. When asked what "mano dura" meant in practice, she said it meant firmness and energy in applying rules and her government plan. She proposed 70,000 molecular tests daily to contain the virus, mobilizing the armed forces, private enterprise, and churches. For the economy, she promised two million jobs through thousands of micro-projects nationwide and a new commission to formalize informal workers—not to punish them, but to bring them into the system.
On the corruption charges themselves, Fujimori was defensive but composed. Five forensic experts from the Public Ministry had found no financial imbalance in her accounts or her husband Mark Vito's, she said. Prosecutor José Domingo Pérez was investigating three alleged U.S. bank accounts belonging to her husband; she told him to request the information. She lived in a rented apartment, owned no properties, and drove a Subaru worth roughly thirty-two thousand dollars. Her patrimony had been analyzed for ten years by the Public Ministry. She did not fear returning to prison, she said, because her time there had brought her closer to God and made her value family and small things. But she would not discuss the case further because Pérez might use anything she said as an excuse to request preventive detention again.
On family, she was guarded. She denied the myth that she had opposed her father Alberto's release from prison—she had been glad for his freedom. On her brother Kenji, with whom she remained estranged, she said each person had their own timing and he deserved his space. When would reconciliation come? When he decided, she said. The question of whether it depended on him hung unanswered. As for the anti-Fujimori vote—the substantial bloc of Peruvians who opposed her—she asked only that they listen to her. She believed she had learned from her errors, grown spiritually, and assembled a strong team to govern. The polls showed the country was tired of politics, tired of all of it. But Fujimori believed her moment had come.
Citas Notables
Peru needs a hard democracy—not soft, but strong—with the spirit and principle of authority, with absolute respect for democratic institutions.— Keiko Fujimori
Being in prison brought me closer to God. I valued my family, my friends, and the small things in life more.— Keiko Fujimori
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
You've been in this race before, twice. What makes you think this time is different?
I'm not sure it is different. But I'm more convinced now that Peru needs what I can offer—firmness, authority, a government that actually moves. The pandemic changed something in me.
Your critics say you're running to escape the corruption charges. How do you answer that?
It's false. But I understand why they say it. The charges are real, the investigation is real, and I can't talk about them without giving Pérez ammunition. So I talk about what I'll do instead.
You spent sixteen months in prison. How much did that change you?
Everything. Being away from my daughters was the hardest part. But it also brought me closer to God, made me see what actually matters. I'm not the same person who left.
When you call Mendoza 'Little Red Riding Hood,' you're not really talking about her appearance, are you?
No. I'm saying she looks harmless but she's dangerous. She wants to dismantle the constitution. She's never condemned Castro or Maduro. That's not soft—that's a threat.
Your brother Kenji won't reconcile with you. Does that wound you?
Of course it does. But I've learned that some things take time. He has to come to it himself. I can't force it.
You say you want to create two million jobs through micro-projects. That's a big number. How do you actually do that?
You mobilize everything—the armed forces, private companies, churches, local governments. You don't do it from a desk in Lima. You go to the provinces and you build. Small projects, thousands of them, all at once.