Paulina* has been a sex worker for 15 years on the streets of Lima, the capital of Peru. She does this to support her family, as she has no other means of income.
“When you have kids, you have to find money wherever you can for them to eat,” said Paulina.
Throughout these years of working in the sex industry, she has personally experienced countless incidents of violence and has witnessed the abuse faced by other sex workers. Paulina thought she had seen it all until September 2022, when criminals murdered a colleague on one of the main streets in downtown Lima.
“They killed her for not paying and for reporting that they were extorting for a quota,” she said, referring to the type of extortion that criminal groups impose on sex workers in exchange for allowing them to work on the streets.
Fearing to come under the radar of criminals who might start extorting her, Paulina stopped working for two months after her colleague’s murder.
However, her fear became a reality in November when she began receiving various messages on WhatsApp. The senders—alleged members of the Tren de Aragua, a Venezuelan mega-gang that has spread throughout South America since 2019 and has become the main criminal threat in Lima—made their warning clear.
“They contacted me, identifying themselves as Tren de Aragua, saying that if we didn’t pay the quota, they would kill us,” she recalled.
They demanded 400 soles (around 100 dollars) as a “registration” fee to continue working in the area where she had operated for years. Besides the initial fee, she had to transfer 150 soles (40 dollars) weekly to an account and send a photo of the payment receipt with her name.
Fearing for her life and that of her children, Paulina began paying the quota.
“Whether you work or not, you need to gather the money because if you don’t pay, they will kill you,” she added.
However, soon after, she started having trouble raising the full amount. On days when there weren’t enough clients, it became impossible to gather the total payment. In some instances, she even had to skip meals to make the payment. When she couldn’t collect the full amount, Paulina sent the criminals what little she could gather. Nevertheless, they still threatened her for not paying the entire quota.
“If you don’t like the rules, leave the area so we don’t have to kill you,” one message stated.
Although Paulina was terrified of facing reprisals, reporting the situation was not an option for her. In Peru, sex work is not criminalized, but there is also no specific regulatory framework, leaving sex workers like her defenseless against all forms of violence. Moreover, security forces, who had formerly been primary perpetrators of violence against sex workers in Lima, generally discriminate against them and seldom provide assistance in situations like this.
“When you go to report, they say, ‘I don’t believe it, I don’t think someone is going to come and kill you.’ And when you’re killed, [they say] ‘Why didn’t you report? Why didn’t you let us know?’ And when you call them, they don’t show up,” she said.
Sex workers in Lima have systematically faced extortion, assaults, rapes, and even murders and disappearances. This violence comes from families, clients, security forces, and local mafias. However, even though abuse and mistreatment have been constants in their lives, various factions of the Tren de Aragua have escalated the violence to unprecedented levels.
“The street is tough”
Before 2019, the primary perpetrators of violence against sex workers included local mafias led by “mamis” and “papis,” known as the pimps who sometimes extorted small groups of sex workers. Mamis and papis also managed local human trafficking networks for sexual exploitation.
“There have always been mafias,” said Ángela Villón, leader of Miluska Vida y Dignidad (MVD), an association of sex workers in Lima. “They would cut your clothes and say, ‘If you don’t pay the next time, we will do the same to you, but on your skin’… It’s terrifying, but they didn’t kill you.”
In addition to the mamis and papis, for decades, the main perpetrators of violence against sex workers in Lima were members of the Peruvian National Police (PNP) and the Municipal Serenazgo, an institution responsible for citizen security.
Exploiting legal gaps in Peru regarding sex work, members of the PNP and serenazgo conducted operations against sex workers, arbitrarily detaining them, according to a dozen sex workers who spoke with InSight Crime. They reported being beaten, mistreated, extorted, and even sexually abused during these operations.
For instance, Leida Portal, who leads the organization Rosa Mujeres de Lucha advocating for sex workers, was victimized by three police officers who raided her workplace, beat her, stole her money, and took her to the police station, where she faced further abuse and discrimination.
However, for sex workers, conditions worsened with the arrival of Venezuelan criminal groups in 2019. A decade ago, hundreds of thousands of Venezuelans began fleeing their country due to the economic and political crisis. One of the first destinations for migrants was Peru, where 1.6 million Venezuelans currently reside, according to figures from the R4V humanitarian coordination platform. In 2018, when the migratory flow from Venezuela peaked, the Tren de Aragua began expanding across South America, using human smuggling to establish itself outside Venezuela. From its origin in the north-central state of Aragua, it also spread to the north of the continent, reaching the United States.
To establish a foothold in the capital, a faction of the group known as Los Gallegos began displacing small Peruvian criminal groups. Their primary targets included networks that extorted sex workers in Lima.
According to sex workers and members of the PNP who spoke with InSight Crime, the arrival and expansion of Los Gallegos in the area were announced on the night of January 9, 2020, when three men murdered Isaac Hilario Huamanyalli, known as Cholo Isaac. Isaac allegedly controlled the extortion in the Lince district, an epicenter for sex work in downtown Lima.
The murder of Cholo Isaac was a pivotal move that highlighted the expansion of the Tren de Aragua faction in the city. But it wasn’t the only sign. According to sex workers who spoke with InSight Crime, a Peruvian mama also welcomed Los Gallegos.
“[A] girl got together with a Venezuelan. She taught him how to collect quotas, and the Venezuelan from the mafia took her out, and he stayed with everything,” said Roxi, a Venezuelan sex worker who has been working in Lima for three years.
The factions of the Tren de Aragua ousted other networks of Peruvian mamis and papis, usurping the throne in the quota-collection business. With local competition out of the picture, the Venezuelan criminal groups extended their reach over sex workers.
Los Gallegos began extorting Venezuelan sex workers before expanding their focus to Peruvian, Colombian, and Ecuadorian women.
“What they would do at that time was kidnap sex workers and keep them for two or three days in a space where they wouldn’t let them sleep… they would constantly tell them how they were going to kill them,” said Ángela.
With the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, sex workers who could not go out to the streets of Lima migrated to messaging apps, like WhatsApp, to coordinate with each other and schedule appointments with clients. Los Gallegos knew how to take advantage of this: they not only seized the cell phones of sex workers but also collected the phone numbers of others through group chats they were part of, ensnaring new victims in their extortion web.
“When we were still in the middle of the pandemic, they sent us the first message introducing themselves,” Ángela recalled. “They were informing us that from that moment, we had to pay the quotas to them.”
Deadly Tithe
Today, six years after the visible arrival of the Tren de Aragua in Peru, all women engaged in sex work on the streets of Lima must pay a quota to the group or one of its affiliated factions, like Los Gallegos, Los Hijos de Dios, or the Dinastía Alayón.
“What they care about is their money. You either pay them or you die,” said Liliana, a Venezuelan sex worker.
Extortion is everywhere. For some, like Paulina and Liliana, criminal groups send threatening messages to their cell phones and to the groups they use to communicate with other sex workers. For others, they corner them in the streets and even in their homes.
“They close off all spaces, in one way or another, you end up trapped in that circle of criminalization where, if you don’t pay, you can’t work,” added Lucía, a Peruvian sex worker who works through ads on websites.
For sex workers who work through ads, like her, criminal groups monitor them and use their contact numbers to extort money from them.
“The messages they send you on WhatsApp are constant. They see your ad and are already threatening you,” said Lucía.
The text messages lead them to account numbers where they must deposit a specific amount. First, they have to pay the permit, or the “registration,” as the extortionists call it, to be able to work in the areas controlled by the group. The price varies depending on the faction and the area. It can range from 200 to 400 soles (between 50 and 100 dollars). After that, like Paulina, they must make a weekly payment ranging from 150 to 250 soles (between 40 and 66 dollars), although it can sometimes reach 500 soles (130 dollars). The charges are not the same for everyone. Venezuelans, who were the first to be extorted, have to pay more simply for being Venezuelans. And if they fall behind on payments, their debt accumulates.
Even though threatening messages usually come from men, women associated with the Tren de Aragua or, in some cases, those who are victims of human trafficking, are the ones collecting the quotas on the streets.
According to accounts from sex workers and their leaders, these women spend every day collecting quotas in areas with concentrated sex work. Some, despite being affiliated with the criminal group, also become targets. One of them was killed by the group after becoming well-known in the area, according to the sex workers who spoke with InSight Crime.
“She charged us, and the same [criminals] killed her,” said Katherine, another woman who spoke with InSight Crime. “She collected everything from Peruvians, but since she became ambitious, she teamed up with other stronger people. But no one plays with the mafia because you bore the mafia, and they kill you.”
If someone refuses to pay or does not have the group’s permission to work in the area, they are threatened, beaten, or even murdered.
The violence is not random. It is a bloody warning for other sex workers: anyone who refuses to pay faces the same fate.
Members of criminal groups kidnapped Lucía in 2023. She had arranged to meet a client at a house, but upon arriving there, she realized the situation was not what she expected. In the house, she found an armed man who told her that she was not on their list of authorized women for work and abused her while threatening her with the gun. Although she managed to escape, Lucía fears being attacked again.
The families of sex workers are also in danger. In August 2023, Katherine’s husband was having lunch with his family in the capital. Unbeknownst to him, armed men were following him. When he stepped outside to catch a taxi, moments later, the men shot him dead.
“It was because I didn’t pay the quota,” said Katherine.
None is Safe
In Peru, there are no official statistics on the violence that sex workers face. Neither the Ministry of Women nor the PNP have figures on this situation.
According to records from sex worker organizations and monitoring from InSight Crime, at least seven women were murdered between 2018 and 2019. In 2020 and 2021, there were eight more murders recorded. In 2022, 35 women were killed, according to monitoring by Miluska Vida y Dignidad. Another 36 went missing, many believed to be dead.
“We can’t find their bodies, but no one listens to us,” commented Ángela.
In 2023, there were 36 women murdered and 39 disappeared, and in 2024, at least 39 were killed.
It wasn’t until February 2023 that the violence attracted national attention. That month, two sex workers, one Venezuelan and one Ecuadorian, were murdered in downtown Lima. The Ministry of Women and the PNP began investigating some of the cases.
“But it was too late because [the city] was infested with mafias,” said Ángela.
Authorities’ operations against the Tren de Aragua and its factions had no effect on the lives of sex workers, and violence against them escalated.
Amid the wave of violence, two brutal murders committed by the Tren de Aragua in February 2023 became a rallying cry for sex workers. Rubí Ferrer and Priscilla Aguado, two trans women working in sex work in downtown Lima, a reality shared by 62% of trans women in Peru, were killed by the group to send a message.
The incident began with a confrontation between the quota collector in the area and a sex worker who refused to pay the extortion. To enforce the quota payment, Tren de Aragua members kidnapped Rubí. While filming on their phones, they shot her 31 times. Priscilla was murdered hours later on the outskirts of the city.
“They record [the attacks] to make sure all the girls fall in line. So all the girls see that they have to respect Tren de Aragua people,” said Liliana.
The murders, along with the subsequent dissemination of the video of Rubí’s execution, not only generated fear but also anger and indignation among other sex workers in Lima, who were already tired of the violence. Sex worker organizations have mobilized, organizing marches and protests demanding justice.
“A lot of people mobilized,” said Ángela. “They are killing us because we are prostitutes.”
However, little has changed. Despite authorities capturing one of the individuals involved in Rubí’s murder and a person known as Andrea, the quota collector in the area who allegedly ordered the killings, trans sex workers in Peru continue to be targeted by criminal groups. On February 15, 2024, two days after a march calling for justice for Rubí and Priscilla, Jazmín, a trans sex worker, was murdered in northern Lima for refusing to pay the quota.
“When You’re Dead, That’s When It Makes the News”
Most sex workers do not report extortion. For almost all, speaking out is pointless and exposes them to retaliation. Years of abuse and discrimination by the PNP and Municipal Serenazgo have generated deep distrust in authorities. The situation becomes even more complex for Venezuelan women who often hold irregular immigration status.
“[Before, police] would rape, abuse, threaten us, and now the Venezuelans come, take our money, and we thought the police would help us… [But] no, they don’t help us,” said Carmen, a young sex worker.
In fact, on the rare occasions when women decide to report, they are often re-victimized by police officers handling their cases.
“When you’re dead, that’s when it finally makes the news, when they say ‘a sex worker was killed,’ when it could have been that same colleague who came forward to report and was denied the report,” summarized Lucía.
Support and safety have only been found among themselves. To protect against the violence of the Tren de Aragua, clients, and police members, Lima’s sex workers have strengthened their support networks, embodied in community organizations advocating for their rights. WhatsApp groups, emergency hotlines, and safe houses are funded by resources collected among themselves and what they acquire from international cooperation. But these are mere short-term solutions against a systemic problem and a violent criminal group that authorities have been unable to combat.
*The names of the individuals have been changed to protect their identities.
