They promised to solve the water crisis. They claimed to be decent.
In Colombia, a journalist's curiosity about water trucks became the thread that unraveled a vast corruption scheme within the National Unit for Disaster Risk Management. Paula Bolívar's book traces how emergency funds destined for the water-scarce communities of La Guajira were systematically diverted by officials who had publicly pledged to serve the nation's most vulnerable. The case raises enduring questions about the distance between the language of public service and the reality of power — and about how deeply corruption can embed itself within the institutions designed to protect the desperate.
- A single citizen complaint about water trucks set off a chain of revelations that implicated senior government officials in the theft of humanitarian emergency funds.
- Communities in La Guajira, already suffering acute water shortages, were left without resources that had been promised and then quietly looted.
- Olmedo López, UNGRD director with deep political ties to President Petro, allegedly received direct orders from the presidential palace to redirect emergency funds into corrupt channels.
- Carlos Ramón, former DAPRE director, is identified as the scheme's architect — reportedly using threats about energy supply to coerce López into compliance.
- What began as an isolated tip has cascaded into a sprawling institutional scandal, implicating multiple government actors and exposing organized theft at the highest levels of the Colombian state.
Paula Bolívar did not set out to expose a major corruption scandal. She followed a tip about water trucks — carrotanques — with no particular expectation of where it would lead. What she found, and has now documented in her book "El desastre de los decentes," was a systematic scheme in which emergency resources meant for Colombia's most vulnerable populations had been diverted for corrupt ends. The communities of La Guajira, facing severe water shortages, were among those left without the aid that had been promised to them.
The book's title carries a pointed irony: the officials at the center of the scandal had presented themselves as honest stewards of public funds. Bolívar's central argument is that this image was a fiction constructed to mask organized theft from the poorest Colombians.
Olmedo López, director of the UNGRD, is a pivotal figure in her account. His long political history — including ties to the M-19 movement and early collaboration with President Gustavo Petro — became relevant when Bolívar reported that López received instructions from Casa de Nariño to misuse emergency funds. Yet López, she argues, was not the true architect of the scheme.
That role belongs to Carlos Ramón, former director of DAPRE, who allegedly pressured López to participate in illicit credit arrangements through the Interparlamentary Commission on Public Credit — threatening consequences for energy supply if he refused. The coercion was explicit, and López complied. What began with a complaint about misused vehicles ultimately revealed not an isolated incident, but an organized operation reaching into the upper echelons of the Colombian government.
A journalist investigating water trucks stumbled onto something much larger. Paula Bolívar, author of "El desastre de los decentes," traced the origins of Colombia's UNGRD corruption scandal back to what seemed like a routine citizen complaint. In an interview with Luis Carlos Vélez, she explained how that initial tip unraveled into a sprawling case of misappropriated emergency funds meant for the country's most vulnerable people.
The investigation began simply enough. Someone called Bolívar about water trucks—carrotanques—and she decided to follow the thread. She had no prior knowledge of what these vehicles represented or why they mattered. But as she dug deeper, the scope widened. What emerged was a scheme in which emergency resources designated for populations in crisis, particularly in La Guajira where water shortages were acute, had been diverted for corrupt purposes instead.
The title of Bolívar's book carries deliberate irony. The officials who orchestrated this theft had presented themselves as trustworthy stewards of public money. They promised to solve the water crisis in La Guajira. They claimed to be decent. The book's central argument is that they were not. Behind the rhetoric of public service lay systematic theft from the poorest Colombians.
Olmedo López occupies a crucial place in Bolívar's narrative. López served as director of the UNGRD, the National Unit for Disaster Risk Management, and his political history proved significant. Bolívar traced his trajectory through the M-19 movement and documented his early collaboration with Gustavo Petro, the current president. In 2018, both men worked together politically. This connection became relevant because López, according to Bolívar's reporting, received orders from Casa de Nariño—the presidential palace—to use emergency funds for corruption.
But López was not acting alone or of his own volition. Bolívar identified Carlos Ramón, former director of DAPRE (the Presidential Administrative Department), as the architect of the scheme. According to López's own account, Ramón delivered an explicit threat: cooperate with illicit credit arrangements through the Interparlamentary Commission on Public Credit, or face consequences regarding energy supply. The pressure was direct. The message was clear. López complied.
The water trucks became the visible entry point to a much deeper corruption network. One scheme led to another. Officials involved multiplied. The initial complaint about misused vehicles triggered what Bolívar describes as a domino effect, pulling in multiple government actors and revealing how emergency resources meant to address genuine humanitarian crises had been systematically looted. The scandal exposed not a isolated incident but an organized operation to steal from Colombia's most desperate populations, orchestrated from within the highest levels of government.
Citas Notables
What happened is that someone from Casa de Nariño ordered the UNGRD director to use emergency resources—resources meant for Colombia's most vulnerable populations—for corruption.— Paula Bolívar, journalist and author
Olmedo López said that Carlos Ramón told him: if you don't cooperate with the credit arrangements, we're going to lose energy.— Paula Bolívar, citing López's account
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
How does a story about water trucks become a story about the presidency?
It doesn't start that way. It starts with someone noticing something wrong—trucks that shouldn't exist, money that doesn't add up. But once you pull that thread, you find it's connected to everything else. The trucks were just the visible part.
So Olmedo López was following orders, not making decisions?
That's what he says. He claims he was told to do this, threatened if he didn't. Whether that absolves him is a different question. But yes, according to his account, the order came from above.
And Carlos Ramón is the one who gave those orders?
According to López, yes. Ramón told him: cooperate with these credit schemes or we lose energy. It was coercion dressed up as necessity.
Why does the book focus so much on these men being "decent"?
Because that's what they claimed to be. They ran on a platform of honesty, of fixing problems for poor people. The irony is that they were stealing from those same people. The title is an indictment of that contradiction.
What does this tell us about how corruption actually works in government?
It's not usually one person acting alone. It's a chain. Someone gives an order, someone else carries it out under pressure, and the system protects itself. The water trucks were just where it became visible.