Ricardo Fernández Barrueco, a Venezuelan businessman and emblem of the so-called chaveburguesía, seems to know no limits. Not prison, not financial ruin, not a series of scandals have stopped him from doing what he’s always done best: cutting corners and moving in the shadows. Years after being one of Venezuela’s richest men, his name has resurfaced—this time for showing up in Panama with fake documents, trying to sneak into investment funds. Same script, different stage. Just weeks ago, Fernández Barrueco was spotted in Panama City. Not as the tycoon he once was, but as an “investor” trying to enter Panama’s financial world. He visited a law firm that operates between Venezuela and Panama, known for helping clients set up real estate and private capital ventures. On the surface, it looked like a normal investor inquiry. In reality, it was far from it. According to sources close to the firm, Fernández Barrueco submitted a stack of documents meant to prove his financial solvency—guarantees, bank statements, letters of credit, the works. Everything seemed in order until the firm’s legal team started digging. That’s when it all fell apart: many of the documents were fake. A good chunk of his supposed “proof” had been forged. True to his old habits, he didn’t stick around to explain. Once he sensed trouble, he packed up and vanished. Destination: Spain. Rumors say he’s currently hiding out in a quiet village in northern Spain, in the Cantabrian region, far from headlines, courts, and public scrutiny. This Panama debacle is just the latest chapter in a long saga of shady deals, political favors, and a lot of cash that was never quite clean.

The Rise: Trucks, Corn, and Millions

Fernández Barrueco got his start in agribusiness, buying a rice mill in rural Venezuela. But his real breakthrough came during the oil strike in 2002. While much of the private sector turned against Chávez, Fernández offered his fleet of trucks to help the government distribute food. That earned him a golden ticket. Soon, he became the main food supplier for Mercal, the government’s subsidized food program. His company, Grupo Proarepa, ballooned into a business empire. At its peak, it owned 270 companies and employed over 5,000 people. He had shipping companies, tuna fleets, agricultural operations—and deep ties to key figures like Adán Chávez, Diosdado Cabello, and Hugo Carvajal. But greed knows no ceiling. In 2008–2009, Fernández made a disastrous move into banking. He bought four banks: Bolívar, BanPro, Confederado, and Canarias. The catch? He financed the purchases with loans he gave himself from the very banks he was acquiring. It was a textbook case of financial fraud. In November 2009, the government intervened, and Fernández was arrested.

Prison, Release… and Back to the Old Ways

He spent nearly four years in jail. From his cell, he gave interviews painting himself as the victim of an internal chavista power struggle. He blamed his arrest on enemies trying to hurt Chávez and said he never broke any laws. He even pinned the blame for the Pdval food crisis on the Cubans. A classic performance. He was released in 2013 and later had his case dismissed in 2014. But the trail didn’t go cold. The FinCEN Files revealed suspicious $62.7 million transactions tied to Fernández, including one involving Deutsche Bank in New York. He was also rumored to have ties between his tuna fleet and drug trafficking. In 2023, his name popped up again—this time through his wife, Daniela Stoppa, who was living in a luxury apartment in Brickell, Miami. The building is known for housing a roster of ex-drug traffickers and fugitive businessmen. No surprise there. Now in 2024, he’s back in the spotlight after attempting to forge his way into Panama’s financial sector. When caught, he fled to Spain. Same tricks, different country.

The Man Who Had It All and Still Won’t Quit

Ricardo Fernández Barrueco is a product of a system that rewarded loyalty over ethics. He rose fast, fell hard, and somehow keeps popping back up. His time as a powerful supplier to the Venezuelan government made him filthy rich. But instead of laying low, he keeps trying to reinvent himself—just not legally. Meanwhile, his businesses were expropriated, his banks collapsed, and Venezuela sank deeper into food shortages and economic ruin. He didn’t just profit from the chaos—he helped create it. Ricardo Fernández Barrueco didn’t disappear. He just changed addresses. And he's still trying to make a fortune the only way he knows how: the dirty way.