Caracas woke up hot that Thursday, April 11, 2002—or so many have recounted. Not just from the sun heating the asphalt in the eastern part of the capital, but from a tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. For days, the entire country had been torn between shouts, marches, presidential broadcasts, and a bitter clash between irreconcilable visions of the nation. Polarization wasn’t just a buzzword. It was a reality you could breathe, scream, fear, sense, and live. A reality that, though denied, still lingers in the conflict.