Ernesto is 43 years old and works more than 16 hours a day as a bus driver in Lima. He has always enjoyed his job, is patient with passengers and enjoys driving. But he doesn’t do it anymore. He knows that every day he risks death. According to police data, nearly 70 public transport drivers have been murdered by hitmen in Peru this year because they refused to pay extortion money.
“Before they robbed you, they took your cell phone or your earnings for the day. Now it’s like Russian roulette: imagine that I go out now and it’s my turn, they shoot me and it’s all over”, says Ernesto, a pseudonym. “People are terrified,” he adds. In the country, according to official data, extortion increased by more than 600% between 2018 and 2025. From January to September this year, 20,705 cases were recorded.
San Juan de Lurigancho is one of the most vulnerable neighborhoods. Ernesto just has to follow it, because his itinerary that runs through the entire area starts from there. Sometimes he wishes he could work less, be less exposed; three or four days a week would be enough to cover your family’s expenses. However, he bought the bus he drives a year ago and now has to pay for it. His children and wife beg him not to go to work.
Ernesto remembers what his friend told him a few days ago. “They got on the bus to give him the ticket; they got on like normal passengers. Then they put a gun to his head and threatened him.” He told Ernesto in tears, feeling helpless, and his friend hasn’t left the house for days.
Drivers are just one link in the chain of extortion that exists in the transport sector. They are the ones who receive the threats and the final bullet from the hitmen; but they are not always the ones who are extorted. Often the targets are the owners of the companies.
Julio César Raurau, representative of the United Transport group in the eastern area of San Juan de Lurigancho, explains that the extortions began in 2024: “They left bullets, grenades, but they didn’t kill the drivers.” According to him, all transport companies must operate under extortion: “It would be a miracle if someone hadn’t experienced something like this.”
Extortionists send a message to the company’s WhatsApp account demanding money. “They use a weapon, speak vulgarly to intimidate and create terror,” explains Raurau. Then they give you a 24-hour deadline to pay: “You start counting the hours, wondering if it’s real or not.” If the businessmen do not respond, the criminals board the bus and threaten the driver to force the boss to pay. If they still don’t comply, they shoot the driver a few days later.
It turned out that the only way transportation companies could ensure the safety of their drivers was to subject themselves to extortion. “A group comes, then another and then another. You’re afraid they’ll kill a driver, so you give up. They put their lives at risk for us on a battlefield,” Raurau says.
Urban transport in Peru depends on several private companies and is not integrated. Most of the money is moved in cash. Martín Ojeda, director of the International Chamber of the Transport Industry, explains that this makes it particularly vulnerable: “The liquidity is concentrated among the owners and the extortionist wants to take control of it.”
Raurau explains that in San Juan de Lurigancho, extortionists can demand an initial payment of up to 50,000 soles ($14,800) from a company, followed by 20,000 soles per month ($5,900). In other cases, where the extortion is directed at the drivers, they ask for around 10 soles (3 dollars) a day.
So far the government has been unable to stop extortion and contract killings. Despite the current state of emergency, two drivers have been killed in the last two weeks. Ricardo Valdés, executive director of the organization CHS Alternativo, which investigates the issue, explains that the state lacks technical capacity due to insufficient investment and training.
Before, at the end of the day, some drivers would sit down to drink a few beers in a nearby bodega. They don’t do that anymore; they fear they have been followed by hitmen. However, the fear does not only affect motorists; Winery owners are also victims. Since 2021, an average of 2,000 wineries a year have closed due to extortion, says Andrés Choy, president of the Peruvian Association of Bodega Owners.
A survey conducted by Ipsos and CHS Alternativo indicates that half of Lima’s population knows of at least one business in their neighborhood that has closed due to insecurity and extortion. The sectors most affected are those C and D: “These are sectors of entrepreneurs, emerging classes and students who have dropped out of university and want to start a business. They expose themselves on social media to market their products and this information is captured by extortionists”, explains Valdés.
Small shopkeepers – there are around 535,000 of them in Peru – have been victims of extortion since 2021. “Opening the shop every day is torture,” says Choy. “It’s terrifying, but they have no other choice because if they don’t sell, they don’t eat.” Initially the criminals asked for around 20,000 soles. “Even if they sold the entire business, they couldn’t pay for it,” he explains. But the extortionists themselves realized this and decided to rethink their method to make it more efficient. They now require much smaller amounts daily, weekly or monthly.
“They don’t want to fix their warehouse anymore, because they think criminals will see it and make them pay more,” Choy adds.
Artists in the spotlight
Recently, one of the country’s most famous cumbia groups, Armonía10, performed on stage wearing bulletproof vests. A few weeks earlier, another famous band, Agua Marina, had been the victim of an attack during a concert. But Armonía10 brought with it another huge burden: last March, one of its singers, Paul Flores, was murdered while traveling between concerts. “I had never heard the sound of a gunshot,” says Carlos, 36, who was there: “Now I know.”
The attacks against these musical groups add to the list of other artists murdered in private residences, on the streets or on buses. Carlos, a pseudonym, has been working in the entertainment industry since he was 17 years old. “We have become accustomed to living in fear,” he says, “we work in an industry that seeks to bring joy, and to do that we have to live with risk.”
After Flores’ death, the band implemented protocols. “Body armor was part of the requirement for musicians and singers to get on the bus,” Carlos says. “We didn’t wear them on stage because we never thought it was a risk. Until the Agua Marina tragedy.”
Other popular groups followed this example. Most have been trained by experts on how to react to, for example, a barrage of gunfire. However, for smaller bands or independent artists, this is almost impossible. Some, like Carlos, have stepped aside, but others continue to work because they are the breadwinner of their families.
As often happens in the transport sector, singers are not always direct victims of extortion. Sometimes criminals contact musicians, but often the threats are directed at the promoters or owners of the venues where they perform. Now, when they work and negotiate with promoters, they no longer just ask for technical requirements: “We ask them if they have already paid protection money,” says Carlos. “If we play an event where the promoter hasn’t paid, we know the attack will be on us.”
Workers, of any profession, feel unprotected. They also don’t believe in filing police reports. “What we do is rely on God and say: whatever will be, will be,” Carlos says. “My mother said that when I went to work it was as if I were a soldier going to war.”
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