Someone was going to die, he explained, and once that was confirmed, the transfer could happen.
En los momentos más oscuros de la pandemia, cuando una familia buscaba desesperadamente una cama de UCI para su ser querido, alguien convirtió esa angustia en una oportunidad de lucro. Un hombre que se identificó como médico del Hospital Rebagliati contactó a Giuliana Zavaleta Terán tras una publicación en redes sociales, prometiendo un traslado urgente a cambio de dinero depositado a su número de DNI. Lo que siguió fue una lección dolorosa sobre cómo la desesperación humana puede ser explotada con precisión quirúrgica, y sobre los límites que separan la confianza de la ingenuidad en tiempos de crisis.
- Ricardo Zavaleta Terán se encontraba en estado crítico por COVID-19 y necesitaba con urgencia una cama UCI que su hospital no podía ofrecerle.
- Un desconocido con información precisa sobre el caso llamó a la familia tras una publicación en redes sociales, ganándose su confianza al hablar con autoridad médica.
- El hombre exigió un depósito de S/ 1.000 directamente a su DNI, evitando transferencias bancarias trazables, y luego presionó para obtener un pago adicional antes de las 7 p.m.
- La familia, al notar inconsistencias en el relato, se negó a enviar más dinero, pero los S/ 1.000 ya depositados nunca fueron devueltos.
- EsSalud confirmó que el presunto médico no trabajaba en el Rebagliati desde el inicio de la pandemia y fue suspendido mientras se investiga el caso.
El 17 de marzo, Ricardo Zavaleta Terán ingresó en estado crítico al Hospital Mongrut con COVID-19. Los médicos le dijeron a su familia que necesitaba un traslado urgente a una unidad de cuidados intensivos. Su hermana Giuliana hizo lo que muchas familias desesperadas hacen: publicó en redes sociales pidiendo ayuda y dejó su número de contacto.
Pocas horas después, alguien llamó. El hombre conocía detalles del caso de Ricardo y hablaba con la seguridad de alguien familiarizado con el sistema hospitalario. En una de las llamadas, se identificó como jefe de UCI del Hospital Edgardo Rebagliati y anunció que pronto se liberaría una cama. La condición era clara: para gestionar el traslado, la familia debía depositar S/ 1.000 de inmediato, no mediante transferencia bancaria, sino directamente a su número de DNI.
Giuliana fue a una agencia del BCP y realizó el depósito a la cuenta vinculada al DNI 07940164, registrado a nombre de Francisco Medardo Manuel Chavez Gonzales. Poco después, el hombre volvió a llamar para pedir un pago adicional, alegando que su jefe debía firmar la autorización antes de las 7 p.m. La presión aumentó, pero algo no cuadraba. La familia se negó a enviar más dinero.
Pasadas las 7 p.m., el hombre llamó de nuevo para decir que el trato había caído. Prometió devolver los S/ 1.000 al día siguiente, reclamando que la familia lo había dejado mal ante su superior. El dinero nunca fue devuelto.
Días después, EsSalud emitió un comunicado: el hombre no trabajaba en el Rebagliati desde el inicio de la pandemia, pues había solicitado licencia voluntaria. La institución lo suspendió mientras se investiga el caso y advirtió a la ciudadanía sobre este tipo de estafas que se aprovechan del dolor de las familias con enfermos críticos de COVID-19.
Ricardo Zavaleta Terán lay in critical condition at Hospital Mongrut on March 17, having contracted COVID-19. His condition had deteriorated to the point where the hospital told his family he needed immediate transfer to a facility with an available intensive care bed. There was no time to waste.
His sister, Giuliana Zavaleta Terán, did what many desperate families do in a crisis: she turned to social media. She posted about her brother's urgent need for an ICU bed and left a contact number. Within hours, someone called. The caller knew details about Ricardo's condition and his hospitalization. He spoke with the authority of someone who worked at the hospital, someone who understood the system. Giuliana assumed he was part of the Mongrut staff coordinating the transfer.
The calls continued. On one of them, the man identified himself as the head of intensive care at Hospital Edgardo Rebagliati, another major facility in the capital. He had good news: a bed would be opening up that night. Someone was going to die, he explained, and once that was confirmed, the transfer could happen. But there was a condition. To process the paperwork and arrange the move from Mongrut to Rebagliati, the family would need to deposit 1,000 soles immediately. He told Giuliana not to use a bank transfer. Instead, she should deposit the money directly to his national ID number. He would send her the receipt, finish the arrangements, and call her back.
Giuliana went to a BCP branch and made the deposit to the account linked to ID number 07940164. According to Peru's national registry, that number belonged to Francisco Medardo Manuel Chavez Gonzales. After she sent the receipt, doubt crept in. The man called again. He said he needed one more signature from his superior before the transfer could proceed. He was the head of the unit, he reminded her, but his boss had to sign off. The family would need to deposit the remaining balance of the agreed-upon fee.
In audio recordings of the calls, the man's tone shifted. He began pressuring Giuliana, saying his boss would leave at 7 p.m. and he needed to hand over the money by then. He assured her that transport between EsSalud facilities was free, so the family wouldn't pay for the ambulance. He kept insisting on the additional deposit. But Giuliana and her family had begun to sense something was wrong. The story wasn't adding up. They refused to send more money.
When 7 p.m. passed without the promised callback, the man contacted Giuliana again. The deal was off, he said. He would return the 1,000 soles the next day. In the audio, he sounded aggrieved, claiming the family had made him look bad in front of his boss, that he had already committed to giving his superior the money from his own pocket and would retrieve it later.
EsSalud issued a statement days later. The man, they said, had not worked at Hospital Edgardo Rebagliati since the pandemic began. He had requested voluntary leave early on. The institution suspended him pending investigation. In a broader appeal to the public, EsSalud warned citizens not to fall for schemes like this one—scammers who exploit the desperation of families with critically ill COVID-19 patients. The 1,000 soles Giuliana deposited was never returned.
Citas Notables
He told me there was a possibility, that someone was going to die and it was about to be confirmed, that he had to manage everything with Mongrut because to transfer the patient he needed me to deposit 1,000 soles right then for the signatures that would allow the transfer.— Giuliana Zavaleta Terán, sister of the patient
The institution warned the public not to be deceived by unscrupulous people who exploit the needs of millions of families with relatives suffering from critical COVID-19.— EsSalud statement
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
How did someone manage to impersonate a hospital administrator so convincingly that a family in crisis believed him?
He had real information. He knew the patient's condition, the hospital name, the urgency. He spoke with authority. When you're terrified and someone sounds like they know what they're talking about, you want to believe them.
Why demand the deposit go to his personal ID number instead of a hospital account?
Because there is no hospital account. That's the whole point. A real transfer would leave a trail, would be traceable to the institution. This way, the money goes straight to him, and he can claim anything went wrong.
The family had already paid 1,000 soles. Why did he ask for more?
Greed, partly. But also pressure. Once you've paid once, you're invested. You're more likely to pay again to protect what you've already lost. He was testing how far he could push.
What made them finally stop?
The story broke. He said his boss had to sign off, but he was the boss. He said the boss left at 7 p.m., but he was calling after 7 p.m. The contradictions piled up faster than the excuses.
Did the patient get the ICU bed he needed?
The source doesn't say. We know the family was trying to transfer him, that they were desperate enough to trust a stranger. But whether Ricardo Zavaleta Terán made it to intensive care, whether he survived—that part of the story isn't here.
What happens to the man now?
EsSalud suspended him. An investigation is underway. But he has the 1,000 soles, and the family has a lesson in how fragile trust becomes when someone's life is on the line.