There are some figures you read and just keep going. Not this one. Between February 1, 2024, and June 30, 2026, Cubalex documented 115 deaths in state custody at Cuban prisons. In at least 80 cases, near the 70 percent, the organization found instances of negligence, delays, or denial of medical care. Twenty-one of those deaths were attributed to severe malnutrition or starvation, and another twelve were linked to tuberculosis. Seven people were released from prison or granted parole when the process that would ultimately lead to their deaths, according to the investigation, was already irreversible.
Let's focus on one word: starvation. We are talking about human beings who, according to the documentation gathered, suffered extreme hunger while they were under the responsibility of the State. They couldn't go out to find food, a doctor, or medicine. They couldn't call an ambulance (ambulance?) and go to another hospital. They were trapped. When a Status When you lock someone up, you also take on the obligation to keep them alive, feed them, and care for them when they are sick. It doesn't matter what crime they have committed. There is no sentence that involves dying slowly from starvation or an untreated illness.
The report describes medical delays, interruptions in treatment, and a failure to respond to known risk situations. It also identifies nine cases that Cubalex classifies them as extrajudicial killings. That classification is the organization’s own, and each case requires an independent investigation to determine responsibility, but the mere existence of testimonies, questionable deaths, and disputed official accounts should be sufficient to demand that Cuban prisons be subject to truly independent scrutiny.
The map speaks, too. Sweet potato, in Santiago de Cuba, brings together 23 of the documented deaths. The Eastern Team and the Guantánamo Combined Team appear with eleven each. Quivicán, with eight. This is not an isolated death in a remote prison, but rather a series of cases that have occurred throughout the prison system over the course of more than two years.
And then the inevitable question arises: if this is happening inside prisons, what is going on outside?
Cuba is going through one of the most desperate periods in its recent history. The peso has plummeted, wages have lost a huge portion of their purchasing power, and for many families, the problem is no longer just finding food, but being able to afford it. Some foods are simply unaffordable for anyone relying on a Cuban salary or pension. Drug shortages continue to plague the sick and the elderly, and electricity has become something that millions of people receive intermittently rather than as a guaranteed basic service.
On September 18, the National Electric Power System. Millions of Cubans were once again left in the dark. It was at least the sixth major grid failure since January and came after power outages that had already lasted more than thirty hours in some areas. In Havana, some people had gone an entire day without power; they had electricity for one hour and then lost it again when the national grid went down.
To someone observing Cuba from afar, a power outage may seem like a mere inconvenience. For those who live there, it means something else entirely. It means food spoiling in the refrigerator, water that doesn’t flow because the pump isn’t working, a phone that can’t be charged, entire sleepless nights in the heat, disrupted transportation, and sick people depending on whether a hospital can keep its emergency systems running. That, repeated week after week, ends up destroying more than just the power grid.
Hospitals do not exist in a world separate from the rest of the country either. When there are shortages of electricity, fuel, medications, equipment, parts, and resources, the healthcare system feels the impact. Human Rights Watch He had already pointed out the severe shortage of medicines and essential supplies, as well as power outages lasting up to twenty hours a day in certain areas. The deterioration that Cubans have been denouncing for years needs no embellishment. One need only listen to those who have to bring everything from a sheet to medicine when a family member is hospitalized.
And hunger doesn't need publicity either. The food crisis is real. Reuters He has just described an economy in which the peso is worth about one-tenth of what it was worth in 2021, while prices continue to rise and wages lag behind. A Cuban woman interviewed summed up the daily absurdity with brutal simplicity: There is food; the problem is that prices have skyrocketed and the economy is in shambles.
That difference matters because it explains a Cuba that can seem incomprehensible from the outside. There may be tomatoes on a display stand and hunger in the house across the street. There may be a restaurant full of food and a retiree counting coins. There may be electricity in certain hotels while, just a few streets away, a family has been in the dark for hours. The mere physical existence of something does not mean that the average Cuban has access to it.
While the country grows poorer, the repression has not let up either. Cubalex In August, it documented 94 public protests, many of which were specifically related to the power outages. During that same month, it recorded 280 repressive events, including 543 incidents of harassment against at least 187 people, as well as 30 arbitrary detentions and five deaths in custody. These figures were compiled by an independent organization and should be cited as such, but they describe a reality that deserves scrutiny, not silence.
Cuba is just a few months away from marking 68 years since January 1959. That’s nearly seven decades—almost an entire human lifetime—during which several generations have been born hearing that Tomorrow will be different. The enemy changes, the explanations change, the crises are given new names, but Cubans are always asked to do the same thing again another sacrifice.
I am Cuban. I am not writing this while looking at an abstract island on a map. News from Cuba reaches me through many channels, just as it does for millions of Cubans who live abroad and still have family, friends, memories, and a part of ourselves there. You hear stories that never make it onto the international front pages: the desperate search for medicine, not enough food to go around, hours spent waiting for the power to come back on, an elderly person trying to survive on a pension that barely buys anything. Some of these stories can be documented journalistically, while others are personal accounts, but together they explain why a figure like 115 deaths in prisons It doesn't just appear out of thin air.
We should also talk about the United States. Donald Trump raised enormous expectations among Cubans, who interpreted his return to power and his crackdown on Havana such as the possibility of a definitive change. Washington has dramatically increased economic pressure on the Cuban government, particularly regarding its access to oil. However, the people who hope for freedom need more than just speeches, sanctions, and political promises. They need to know what the path forward is and, above all, who will ultimately pay the price for each decision.
The same question must be asked regarding any negotiations between Washington and Venezuela’s leaders. Cubans and Venezuelans who have placed their hopes in the United States have the right to demand clarity. We cannot confuse political pressure with freedom that has been achieved, nor diplomatic negotiations with a victory that does not yet exist.
And to Marco Rubio We need to be particularly clear with him. He is the U.S. Secretary of State, but he is also the son of Cubans and is fully aware of the story behind these figures. We are not asking him to look toward Cuba because sentimentality. We ask that you not turn your gaze away from the prisoners, their families, and those who have been waiting for a way out for decades. The freedom "Cuba" cannot once again become a useful campaign slogan that is set aside when it comes time to govern.
I don't know how much longer a country can go on living like this. What I do know is that 115 deaths cannot become just another news story that lasts twenty-four hours and then disappears. There are names behind that number, there are families, and there are questions that the Cuban regime should be accountable to independent investigators.
Why did they die? Why, at least, 21 developed severe malnutrition or starvation? Why were twelve deaths linked to tuberculosis? Why were there patients who received care too late? Why were seven people released from prison when the process that would ultimately take their lives was already irreversible?
Cuba needs answers, but it needs something even more fundamental: for its citizens to be able to eat, turn on a light, receive medical care, speak without fear, protest without being jailed, and freely choose who governs them.
After nearly 68 years, asking for that isn't asking for too much.
It's a call for freedom.
"Homeland and Life!"
