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Banished to Guatemala in September 2024, former political prisoner Abdul Montoya is still stranded there, now waiting for the Spanish government will tell him whether or not they will grant him a Spanish passport. The United States and Canada have already refused to accept him in their respective countries. Fearing a new denial, Montoya is now petitioning to go to another country where he could pick up the pieces of his life, even though he’ll be 67 years old in a few months.
In an interview with CONFIDENCIAL, broadcast June 8 on the CONFIDENCIAL YouTube channel, Montoya spoke from exile, calling this experience his third ordeal. The first was when he was imprisoned from August 2018 to June 2019, released under an Amnesty Law.
The second was between April 2023 and September 2024, when he was jailed again, this time accused of alleged “cybercrimes” and “undermining national sovereignty.” This third torment began when he was banished to Guatemala, along with 134 other released political prisoners. Nine months later, he’s still there, with no job and no source of income.
Twice a political prisoner
Montoya, a former Sandinista guerrilla, is an agricultural and animal husbandry engineer by profession. He remained within the Sandinista Front for a long time, until breaking with the party in 2014. When the April Rebellion of 2018 broke out, he sided with those demanding an end to the regime led by Daniel Ortega and his wife, Rosario Murillo.
He personally paid the price by being imprisoned twice. The first time was in August 2018, when he was accused of murdering someone in the city of Matagalpa after participating in a peaceful march on August 11 of that year. The police arrested him at his own home and took him to El Chipote prison.
After a sham trial, he was sentenced to 62 years in prison, though he served only a few months thanks to the controversial Amnesty Law issued by the regime to erase its own crimes. Aware that there were threats against his life if he were released, he decided to disappear. He changed his name and went to work on a coffee farm in Jinotega.
The three years he spent on that farm were relatively peaceful: he was able to work in his field, support his family, and receive visits from them. Using the name ‘Julio Valenzuela’ instead of Abdul Montoya gave him an added layer of protection, shielding him from any regime loyalist seeking revenge.
His situation changed in April 2023, when he was discovered and arrested by the Jinotega police, with the complicity of the farm’s foreman. The fear of falling into the hands of the regime’s agents returned—along with the anxiety of police interrogations that, in some cases, referred to his involvement in the April Rebellion of 2018.
Neither repentance nor surrender
The first arrest was justified by the alleged commission of a murder, the second was based on illegal possession of firearms—something he admitted to, explaining that he had bought the weapon to protect himself after learning of threats against his life. Although he was arrested both times in the north of the country, he was transferred to Managua on both occasions, in violation of the legal requirement to be tried in one’s local jurisdiction.
After spending two months in the Judicial Assistance offices in District Three of the capital, Montoya was transferred to La Modelo Prison in Tipitapa. There, he was tried and sentenced to 23 years in prison via a video call. The charges included cybercrimes, undermining territorial integrity, organizing armed groups to rise up against the government, and allegedly stating that police should be dealt with “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.”
He was also accused of terrorism—specifically, of planning to burn down the municipal offices in Matagalpa and Jinotega—and of having contact with CIA personnel. The trial was as spurious as those faced by dozens of other opposition figures. Among the irregularities he recalls, he says that his court-appointed defense attorney was a loyalist to the regime.
“One time I said to him, ‘Doctor, may I speak?’ and he told me, ‘We can’t talk here.’ I never saw him again. I had no chance to defend myself. Another time when I tried to speak, a police officer hit me in the ribs and said, ‘You don’t have the right to speak; only to listen. You don’t have the right to stand up. Here you will stay seated, and you won’t stand until they transfer you to La Modelo.’ I said, ‘Alright. Thank you for telling me.’ That’s how I spent my time, and that’s how they condemned me.”
After seven years of struggle, he says he neither regrets nor gives up. “I am determined to see Nicaragua free, and we will make it happen. We will return. It’s true they took away my nationality, but that’s just on paper, because in fact, I am Nicaraguan. I was born in Matagalpa. People know me, and wherever I am, I’m not going to back down. I will continue the struggle.”
Living on aid
While nothing compares to freedom, the former political prisoner admits his exile in Guatemala has been tough because his financial situation “is extremely difficult.” He recalls that during his first months there, he received help from the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) office. Also from Conigua, the Commission of Nicaraguans in Guatemala, “but that support has since stopped.”
With no income to survive in Guatemala, he began asking for help from family members in the United States and some friends, who helped cover lodging and food. Despite everything, he insists he won’t give up and is exploring options in a third country.
Neither the United States, nor Canada, nor Spain
The flight to Guatemala, carried out on September 5, 2024, felt like a celebration of hope, especially when they were handed passports and told they were being released. They were free and had the possibility of being admitted to the United States. That’s what someone working at the U.S. Embassy told them when they arrived early at the airport that morning. The explanation was that their release was the result of a negotiation between the U.S. and Nicaraguan governments, but that they would make a stop in Guatemala, where they landed at 6:20 a.m.
Upon arrival in Guatemala, they were received by officials from the Guatemalan government and UNHCR, who handled the paperwork before transferring them to hotels. From that point on, he says, “this has been extremely hard,” as he is now exiled, stripped of his nationality, with no option to return to Nicaragua or see his family again, he laments.
The interview with the U.S. immigration officer who was supposed to evaluate his petition to enter the country wasn’t really an interview—it was a four-hour interrogation, he recalls. “The translator said, ‘the lady says that as soon as I finish translating her question into Spanish, you must answer immediately. You don’t have the right to think.’” He adds, incredulously, that the result of that process was that his case was deemed “not credible.”
How much more proof does she need?
His frustration grew when he considered all the documentation he had submitted: reports issued by the Inter-American Commission and the Inter-American Court of Human Rights, as well as letters from the Human Rights Commission and the Association of Political Prisoners of Nicaragua. He also pointed to the two verified occasions on which he was imprisoned.
After the U.S. rejection, UNHCR staff visited him and asked him to choose two other countries he’d be willing to go to so they could begin exploring options. He chose Canada and Spain. A few days later, UNHCR informed him that he was “not eligible” for Canada, and that they would continue the process with Spain, which he agreed to. That was in November 2024. He applied for Spanish nationality but is still awaiting a response.
For now, he says he’s made the decision to leave Guatemala for a third country, which he chose not to name. He hopes this country will be his final destination in exile. “What I mean is arriving there and settling, fulfilling the country’s requirements to work and start helping my family, because the economic situation in Nicaragua is dire. I can’t stay in Guatemala any longer. I have to travel to that other country,” he concludes.
