Truth Demands: A Memoir of Murder, Oil Wars, and the Rise of Climate Justice

by Abby Reyes

In 1999, Abby Reyes lost her partner, Terence Unity Freitas, as he and two others were murdered after departing Kajka Ika—the heart of the world—of Indigenous U’wa territory in Colombia.

Imperiled by multinational oil interests, U’wa lifeways were under attack. Terence, Ingrid Washinawatok El-Issa (Menominee), and Lahe’ena’e Gay (Hawaiian) arrived to listen to community needs and accompany the U’wa. But then they disappeared. Days later, their bodies were found, bound and bullet-riddled in a cow field across the border in Venezuela.

Twenty years later, Abby finds herself in Case 001 of Colombia’s truth and recognition process. They want to know her stories. They want to know her questions. They want to know her truth demands: the fragments she’s held for decades about the last days of Terence’s life. Why was he taken? Who pulled the trigger? Who was really behind the killings?

Plunged back into grief, ambiguity, and the unknown, Abby is called to navigate the past. Old wounds are reopened, old histories are redrawn, and fresh angers flare as she confronts the testimony of one of her lover’s killers—and the burden that Terence unwittingly compelled her to bear.

Spanning three decades and three continents, Truth Demands charts Abby’s parallel journeys as she navigates the waters of loss, purpose, and impermanence while fighting for truth and accountability from big oil. A profound and haunting memoir, Truth Demands is an invitation into the current. It shows us how to hold fast even as we let go—holding us as we bear witness and welcome with courage and skill what the truth demands of us all.

Genres: Nonfiction, Memoir, Politics, Social Justice

296 pages, Paperback

Published May 6, 2025

Reviews

[Georgia S · Rating 5 out of 5]

Incredible story, incredible writing, incredible message. As a graduating ecology student focused on Indigenous
Sovereignty - one of the most impactful books I’ve ever read.

[Alison Miron · Rating 4 out of 5]

An incredibly powerful read about the land rights, indigeneity, corruption, and grief. Readers should go in knowing it’s a memoir, so it’s certainly not a deep dive on the topics included in the title. However, it’s an incredible narrative that touches and weaves together all of the themes.

[Ian Rosenberg · Rating 5 out of 5]

This remarkable, moving memoir brilliantly covers environmental justice, grieving and resilience in equal measure. Truth Demands' three main themes-- personal, political and legal-- are beautifully interwoven in a unified and compelling story. The gorgeous writing in this ultimately inspiring book makes it a must read for those interested in activism, oil politics, the environment and personal growth.

[Sara · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a personal account. Well, written informative, easy to read. The indigenous Uwe tribe live from the wisdom of their hearts and find themselves in the crosshairs of big oil. This book reminds us that the callous disregard for living beings by huge economic powers and political interests keeps all of us from living the wisdom of our hearts.

[Jodie Tonita · Rating 5 out of 5]

A riveting read and insightful invitation into what it takes to be in right relationship to the planet, community and ourselves. I continue to reflect on the questions and lessons within.

[Michael Sasson · Rating 5 out of 5]

A well-written love story in all the best ways... passion... attention to causes and conditions of both the love(s) described and the loves for all of us to enjoy more easily. And it has such grounded and insightful things to say about connection between individual and dyadic healing and social transformation. I'm left so broken and sorry that causes and conditions were present that led to events narrated here and so built up and comforted and grateful that if such things were/are to happen, that this book was one of the fruits.
The author shares her vision of life purpose (p66, 70, 165-168, 207-8, 212-15) in language remarkably close to what I settled on as a young adult -- that the highest good was a certain kind of friendship (thanks Aristotle even if your definition of that kind of friendship seems way off) and that good politics then was creating conditions where that kind of friendship came more and more easily to more and more people/beings.
The rumination on grief and ritual (communal -- see p124) were powerful and made me realize that's what I needed after divorce (and that the closest I got were brief words --if impactful words-- of comfort from my fathers and a welcoming hosting of a visit with a dear friend. -- these were important but not communal or ritual in part because of damage to weave of community that had been built around --even if creatively so -- nuclear family).


---
P28. [Terence] "When I arrived, the house was full of people and the same amount of people were sitting outside, listening. Three different groups were singing inside. Different songs at different tempo. Sometimes one would end and begin the song that the other was finishing (songs that last hours). Every once in a while, there would be silence, when the medicine people had all stopped their songs. Silence of voices, but not of sounds. The reverberation of hours and hours of singing stays in the house, in the wood, in the earthen floor. Then the singing starts again. That is the reason we are doing this work: so that people can listen to singing."
Defending the space for people to listen to singing defends people's access to remembering who they are. [...] we do this work [...] in defense of ways of being that are vital blueprints for the future.
P53. Terence invited me into a shared pursuit of inner life. He extended the invitation from a place of stillness within himself, stillness seeking partnership in balance with me.
P56. Proactive and game-changing approaches were not available to us when we were reeling.
p66. In sitting with us, he invited us into a place where we were enough and so was the world. [...] The true purpose of the work, Ram Dass helped me articulate, was to create conditions for people to remember their true selves as their universal selves, not separate from the rest of existence.
P70. I learned how to walk the narrow margin of the present as refuge. [...] my reason to be here, alive [...] came into sharper focus: to give and receive love, which included creating conditions for other beings to do so, too, and fiercely defending that space.
[...] There had to be strategies beyong coping. I needed to learn how to invite myself to dwell in my inner life. I knew that the first step was to learn how to welcome my heart back into myself. I knew that there were teachers for that.
p76. The problem was that I didn't know how to ask for what I needed. I didn't yet know how to make requests while staying on my side of the fence, refraining from judgment and blame. I didn't know how to make requests without being attached to the outcome. <>
p78. I could evoke the part of me that was learning how to use fierce benevolence to sweep out the courtyard of my mind and guard the space for inner stillness to have a chance of taking root.
P135. Undaunted by my dramatic past, Sunil knew how to step forward again and again to meet me in the bigness of my life and my need. He did not shrink away of seek safe harbor. Soon enough, he, in fact, became my safe harbor. <>
P146. The little girl can finally rest when someone has stayed when staying was needed. <>
P147. It is only through learning how to stay, and staying, that I have come to remember why to stay.
What does it take to stay in the body, or come back to the body, after trauma? To come back to the community after the circle has been broken?
P148. Staying allows us our experiences of sorrow, anger, fear, despair, and emptiness -- and gives them the breathing room and witness needed for deep and lasting change. This kind of presence enables us to remember, as Joanna Macy teaches us, that sorrow is born from love. [...] That emptiness means there is space for emergence, and for me, the cultivation of equanimity.
P152-3. "temple of my adult aloneness." [...] This inner sanctum of solitude is maintained through community [....] At Plum Village, this project of coming back home is the whole project. The intention community, modeled after millennia of monastic communities before it, organizes itself around the project of bringing the heart back home into the body.
P155. "How are we preparing our children to clean up the river?"
163. Similarly, I reorganized the way I related to hope. I came to understand that, for me, the belief that we will win could not be how I understood hope. It could not be the foundation for action. Too much grasping. Not enough conditions for relaxation and gathering strength. Hope had to be rooted in something else. To switch it up, I refocused on practices of alignment and gathering strength: together with others, we could envision the far horizon, and we could make the road by walking. We could create the conditions for winning, but we had to surrender the illusion that we could control the outcome. I developed a deep and abiding faith in the practices that build alignment and gather strength. I came to understand that walking with true stability toward our vision was possible.
[...] If we don't know what is going to happen (which is always the case), we might as well put into the mix our most audacious visions for a transformed world and walk forward as though inhabiting that world now. [...] I could see how this stance could then become what the Hawaiians might call a "wanted obligation." Beholden by choice.
p165. [...] I have gravitated toward those who show us how to radically re-collectivize and vastly expand our circles of care [...] <>>
[...]. to surrender, we need to grieve what is lost and what has been taken. To focus and surrender in alignment with what is true, we also need to go ahead and confront the self as the harmer.
P166. Without the perception of separation, there is no sea of grief. There is just the state of being where the losses we experience fold back into the whole. There is nothing to chase, nothing missing, nothing lost; the form has just changed.
P167. It is simple but not easy. <>
P168. What happens when we design the institutions and structures of society to bolster our collective capacity to shift away from the illusion of separation? What can emerge from sacred governance for the whole? Let's design for that.
P204. Terence: [....] "It feels strange saying that. I don't often feel the need to have someone else help me feel safe, moreover there are not many who could. You, your strength, makes me feel safe." <>
P205. At that moment, my husband Sunil walked into my office [....] I told him that I needed him to remove me from my desk and get me to the woods. He did. We walked it out. We talked it out. [...] I kicked the stones and snapped the branches. I let myself feel angry at Terence. I let the anger have a place out there in the hills. I used the steps to dissipate, dissipate. Dissipation takes time; I gave it time. <>
206 [...] witness of that which is changing at a pace too slow to prevent more harm. She said to wash it off in the water, to put it back in the waters where the grandmothers can handle it for you. Wash it off, let it go. Let the grandmothers take it, those who can handle it for you.
[...]. I am in a constant and joyful practice of giving over. It is like swimming butterfly. Again and again and again. It is technique. It is sustenance. It is daily practice. It is freedom and it is hard won.
P207. The truth demands that we create conditions to remember and practice how to do that.
P208. The people whose actions call us into right relationship with our wanted obligation to make shelter from the storm for us all.
212. I am clear that I do not stand on the shore alone. <>
213. To purge the bitterness. [...] To tell the old stories [...] This work transforms the wretched shore. It is necessarily collective work. To do it, we need to pivot toward each other and, together, toward the far horizon.
[...]. As individuals, we can use our hands to try to keep our hearts from flying away so that we can stay where staying is needed. How can we apply this instruction in community?
We need a container that makes staying in community possible. We need a container where rest becomes possible. We need a container where rest becomes possible because it is finally safe to rest. A container that welcomes the collective heart back home.
214. When the hearts of a place find it safe enough to come back home, the community as a body has a chance of wading through the "uncomfortable middle," learning anew, or remembering, how to move together in ways that take and share responsibility for the whole going forward. When the collective heart comes home, rest becomes possible. And with rest comes the possibility of stillness.
We need stillness to see the way forward.
215. So that the parable of the choir can persist. >
P224. {Tarot}. Holding this single cup, I notice what ha always been true: I am contained in my own container.
I am fully mine.


p26. U'wa protocol when sending members of the community to other non-indigenous environments
p27 Hapkido/ still point
p31. Hand dance: romantic game of flow and presence
p56 going not the distance but to the depths
p61. Mother's presence; doing what was in front of her to do
p81. Thay et al taking every 7th day as sabbath/mindfulness during war
p135. difficulties of parenting
p150 practice for clearing the past
159 clarity of yes and no
203. FARC as committed to petroleum development

[Alexi Wright · Rating 5 out of 5]

Truth Demands” is a powerful and deeply personal account of courage, love, and justice. In this extraordinary book, my friend Abby brings to light the story of the U’wa people of Colombia—Indigenous land defenders whose ancestral territory has long been under threat. Two decades ago, Abby’s partner was murdered while standing alongside the U’wa to protect their land. Rather than retreat into silence, Abby transformed her grief into action, pursuing one of the first Indigenous land rights cases ever brought to an international court alongside the U'Wa. “Truth Demands” is a testament to that fight. It is both a tribute and a call to conscience—a story of resistance and resilience that demands to be heard

[Nethan Reddy · Rating 5 out of 5]

For some time now, I have characterized myself as a truth-seeker. That doesn’t necessarily mean I always think and act authentically like one. But I do try. Upon reading Abby Reyes’ memoir, Truth Demands, I saw truth in a different, brighter light. Instead of someone chasing elusive truth, truth itself directs Reyes. It demands her and demands of her.

Abby Reyes’ partner, Terence Unity Freitas, was murdered in cold blood in Colombia in 1999. Terence was murdered, along with two other indigenous rights activists, Ingrid Washinawatok El Issa and Lahe’ena’e Gay. They were in Colombia to help the indigenous U’wa people stave off the invasion of the Occidental oil company. Oil is important to the U’wa, but not in the same way as it is for Occidental. Oil is the blood of the earth, and you can imagine what involuntarily extracting it from the earth’s skin will do to our home and all the creatures that inhabit it. Oxy (Occidental) is interested in the extraction for financial gain.

The three were directly murdered by FARC (The Revolutionary Armed forces of Colombia)—a leftist guerrilla group staked out in the region. Abby, however, was never satisfied with knowing who pulled the trigger: she wanted to know who told them to. She knows how it feels when truth demands something of someone, that it won’t just be revealed to someone who plainly demands it. They must search for it. And in doing so, find the truth in the work and in themselves.

What is most compelling is the memoir’s unintentional blurring and in fact mockery of “work-life balance.” That phrase has been trendy for some decades now. ‘How can we separate our personal lives from our work lives in a healthy manner?’ Well, what happens when your “work life” becomes personal, by way of murder, let alone the murder of your soulmate. You had both been dedicated to the same causes of indigenous people’s rights and environmental justice, and now, after his death, that personal cause has deepened into bringing justice for those who demanded the rights of indigenous people and environmental justice and promptly lost their lives as a result. At that point the cause becomes personal, as in, more personal than anyone wishes a cause to be, no matter how committed the activist.

In Truth Demands, Reyes perfectly blends the dichotomy between “personal” and “professional” by collapsing them altogether. The murder of Terence was the origin of this collapse. Her work continued in the realm of what Terence was also called to do, but it took on an even more personal valence. Throughout the narrative, Terence appears in her dreams, gently motivating her to carry on with the work, because he was with her every step of the way. It is fair to say that Terence was indeed part of, if not literally the “sacred teacher” Abby describes here: “Grief,” she says, “is not something to dislodge. It’s a sacred teacher. Sitting with it is where truth and our courage to wrestle with it begins.” And she was not alone here on earth. The U’wa people were also with her every step of the way.

In her profound, felt loneliness, she knew she was truly not alone. In her profound pain, she was nursed by equanimity. I wouldn’t say these threads were “seamlessly” tied in that the tying together of them was intentionally crafty. They just are: haphazard when things are haphazard, and smooth when things are smooth, when they “click.” The story of the journey models the vicissitudes of it. That is exceptional. It is a truthful account, and that is ultimately why it’s so potent and beautiful.

Through the ups and downs, the lefts and rights, Truth is Abby’s lighthouse, and now I’ve realized that seems to be the same lighthouse for some of the most upright individuals in history. As an Indian American, I have to say that Gandhi’s invocation that “Truth is God” comes to mind—his autobiography is called The Story of My Experiments With Truth.

Anyone looking for truth, atheist or otherwise, is looking for the thread that both strings our individual story along and concurrently binds our stories together. This book is Abby Reyes’ thread. Telling her story through her interactions with angels on earth and in heaven, each one a part of herself. Each one working together to help her find the Truth.

Thinking that the uncovering of a smoking gun in the murders is the unveiling of truth is missing the point. Although Abby did investigate in those terms, what she wanted was some form of closure, the end of the thread. This thread at least. And here the book sits next to me, Truth Demands. And now I look in my own mirror and ask myself as Abby did: What does the truth demand of me? The thread continues, and it always will.

[Naomi · Rating 5 out of 5]

I really appreciated the depth and care that Abby took with her journey of healing and anger and the fight for justice and the accompaniment of the U'wa. She has clearly benefited from a lot of mentors and community partners and spaces for healing and it's a great reminder for all of us doing human rights work and fighting the trauma and secondary trauma that it comes with to slow down and do work in community. In doing so there's a sometimes odd balance of how personal or how generalizable strategies are and how academic or how hurt the writing is; but in and of itself that's some of the reality of learning and growing through a human rights struggle and a personal experience.

Full transparency that I know Abby personally and have worked directly with the U'wa themselves so I'm very familiar with many of the pieces of the story told in the book and yet I still appreciated the insight into how she approached these moments and how she continues to learn from them and heal through them.

[Caroline Laskow · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is such a powerful story, beautifully told. Reyes weaves together narratives of an indigenous community fighting for its sacred land against giant oil companies, late 20th century environmental activism, and her deeply personal connection to the murders alluded to in the title. Even though the events took place over 25 years ago, it's a story that is still so relevant today. "Truth Demands" is a remarkable addition to the the climate justice canon, for both scholars and the broader public. Like "Say Nothing" (about the IRA/Troubles in Northern Ireland)) it's an unmasking of the major players in a violent conflict, and a gripping memoir of survival after tragedy.

[Reader · Rating 5 out of 5]

Truth Demands is one of those rare books that speaks to both the soul and the systems in which we live. Abby Reyes offers a grounded, poetic reflection on grief, memory, and our shared responsibility to heal each other and the planet. Her words are clear and deeply intentional, weaving personal narrative, ancestral memory, and visionary practice into something that feels both intimate and expansive.

One line, of many, “I let go of the words and I choose rest," has stayed with me, becoming a nightly intention. That’s the kind of impact this book has. It lingers. It roots itself. And it gently asks you to do the same.

[Sunil Gandhi · Rating 5 out of 5]

This beautifully written memoir demands that we confront the violence, pain, and destruction that our desire for fossil fuels has created for countless communities across the globe. Reyes' telling of loss, grief, healing, and the need for answers is a universally relatable story. The example of non-violent resistance by the U'wa and their allies teaches us a new path for humanity away from greed, ignorance, and exploitation and towards dignity, solidarity, and justice. Read this book!

[Hillary Ronen · Rating 5 out of 5]

Poignant memoir that is both a page turner and leaves you a better person at a profound level for having read it. Abby Reyes lets us into her most painful and personal journey of losing her love to political violence at such a young age and wrestling with the implications of that loss throughout her transition to adulthood, motherhood, and a lifetime of activism and the pursuit of justice for the U'wa people and so many other frontline communities.

[Lottie C · Rating 4 out of 5]

4⭐️

[a copy of this book was provided to me by the published from netgalley. thank you!]

a challenging read with an academic tone, this memoir explores the politics of indigenous justice in Canada. insightful & informative

[A H · Rating 5 out of 5]

I’m grateful to have read this book. It’s a remarkable, honest, and moving invitation into the experience of navigating love, complex grief and trauma, courage, and forbearance through tragic loss at an intimate and global scale. I highly recommend this compelling memoir!

[J R · Rating 5 out of 5]

very well-written memoir that was compelling and presented a strong view on events i think everyone should know. 5 stars. tysm for the arc.

[Marie · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5

[Bloss ♡]

I’m going to set this aside for now. I’m about 50% through and not gelling with the writing or narrative voice. 😕 The writing has got such a reportage writing style: it’s all telling; told in a flat style with dry, corporate language. I couldn’t get a good sense of place or people. What I usually love about memoirs - heart and emotive writing - wasn’t present for me in this book.

We jump around in time a lot with no warning. The chapters don’t feel intentional and some sections repeated verbatim. Some characters aren’t introduced, they just show up like we’re expected to know who they are. As a reader, I didn’t feel welcomed into the author’s world; instead, it felt like I was trespassing on private moments or trying to read an academic textbook.

There are a lot of new age / spirituality themes that didn’t work for me as a reader who requested this based on the climate science angle.

I’m so sad this didn’t work for me. The cover art is beautiful and I was keen to deepen my understanding about oil in Colombia. It’s so important that we tell these stories and I deeply hope other readers are able to get more from this than I did.
This could work for folks who enjoy a reportage writing style, have existing context about the time and place, and don’t mind spirituality themes.

I was privileged to have my request to review this approved by North Atlantic Books on NetGalley.