On August 28, 2025, the name Francisco Antonio Convit Guruceaga resurfaced with force. Reports from former Venezuelan commissioner Iván Simonovis revealed that the businessman—long known as one of the “bolichicos” who thrived during the Chávez years—had slipped out of SEBIN custody at the infamous Helicoide prison. Convit had been locked up since February, but insiders say his freedom was not stolen: it was bought. As Simonovis put it bluntly, “he paid, and it didn’t cost him much given the fortune he made with the regime.”
The Maduro government has stayed quiet, but signs of the escape are everywhere: late-night raids at the homes of his mother and closest aides, rumors that he fled Venezuela with his wife, Patricia Gabriela Ferrando, and their children, and even the 24-hour detention of Antonio “El Potro” Álvarez for questioning. The regime’s fear is clear. Days later, it revoked house arrest benefits for other high-profile detainees—Alejandro Arroyo, Bernardo Arosio, and Jesús Enrique Salazar—sending them back to SEBIN’s notorious facility known as La Tumba. The government’s worry: that others could try to cut deals with the United States, as Convit allegedly attempted before his capture.
Convit, now 46, is the grandson of respected scientist Jacinto Convit, but his fortune was not earned in laboratories. It was built through Derwick Associates, a company he co-founded with Leopoldo Alejandro Betancourt and Pedro Trebbau. Derwick secured dozens of emergency contracts during Venezuela’s 2010 energy crisis, despite having no technical track record. Investigations revealed overpriced deals, unfinished plants, and the resale of second-hand equipment as if it were brand-new. ProEnergy, a U.S. company, was subcontracted to do the actual work while Derwick pocketed the spread.
In 2018, the U.S. Department of Justice indicted Convit as part of a billion-dollar corruption network. The case alleged he and his partners funneled $1.2 billion out of PDVSA through fraudulent currency exchange schemes. Among those charged alongside him were José Vicente “Chente” Amparan Croquer, former oil ministry lawyer Carmelo Urdaneta, former PDVSA finance executive Abraham Ortega, Swiss banker Matthias Krull, Colombian-American financier Gustavo Hernández Frieri, and others including Portuguese national Hugo Ramalho Gois and Uruguayan banker Marcelo Acosta y Lara.
Court filings described how the scam worked: manipulate Venezuela’s dual exchange rates to turn $10 million into $100 million in two trades, then launder the proceeds through Miami real estate, Panama properties, sham investment funds, and Swiss accounts. In one notorious 2015 meeting, Convit reportedly sat across from a U.S. informant with a pistol on his desk and a German shepherd by his side, the dog wired to a shock collar. He held the remote in his hand and quipped: “I can’t always control him.”
His personal life has only deepened the scandal. Convit married Patricia Gabriela Ferrando de Convit, a Venezuelan equestrian who, according to international reports, controls Swiss bank accounts linked to PDVSA money. He was also tied to beauty queen Edymar Martínez Blanco, who allegedly laundered funds through Panama and Spain, using modeling agencies that doubled as fronts for high-end prostitution. Reports even suggest Convit contracted a venereal disease from this parallel world, prompting potential lawsuits from models.
Beyond oil and electricity, Convit dabbled in horse racing. In 2015, through the consortium El Capi Racing—founded with brothers Carlos Luis and José Antonio Uzcátegui—he spent $2 million on the colt Glory or Nothing at a Saratoga auction, and another $400,000 on a filly. He also partnered with El Potro Álvarez in a failed attempt to privatize Venezuela’s racetrack industry.
U.S. court documents link Convit to Raúl Gorrín through a fake Hong Kong company called Eaton Global Services, used to disguise fraudulent transfers. Meanwhile, dozens of properties across Miami and Panama, plus investments in Europe, were seized by U.S. authorities. Swiss banker Krull, who later turned state witness, named Convit as one of his principal Venezuelan clients.
Derwick also poured money into influence management. According to Thor Halvorssen, head of the Human Rights Foundation, the company hired Washington firm Fusion GPS to smear journalists exposing their corruption. Halvorssen himself became a target of campaigns painting him as a drug addict and pedophile, prompting him to file lawsuits in U.S. courts against Convit and his partners.
Despite years of exposure, arrests, and indictments, Convit has repeatedly reemerged. Detained in 2020 at Maiquetía airport, he was released within hours thanks to protection from Diosdado Cabello and CICPC chief Douglas Rico. His February 2025 arrest in Caracas, after a viral fight at a padel club with singer Omar Enrique’s entourage, was his longest stretch behind bars—until the night he bought his way out.
Francisco Convit embodies the Venezuelan model of impunity. A man who turned state contracts into personal fortunes, who laundered billions through global networks, who built parallel lives of horses, yachts, and mistresses. A fugitive who always finds protection—whether in Caracas, Miami, Madrid, or the Dominican Republic. His story is not just about corruption. It is about the system that sustains it, where money opens every door and even prison walls can be bought.