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The assassination of Haiti’s 58th President, Jovenel Moïse, on July 7, 2021, remains one of the country’s darkest and most unresolved tragedies. Four years later, the search for justice has become a tangled web of international politics, unfulfilled promises, and public appeals. This week, Joverlein Moïse, the son of the late president, penned an emotional open letter to U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio, urging the United States to ensure that those responsible for his father’s murder face true justice.
In the letter, dated July 23, 2025, Joverlein Moïse called out the role of entrenched oligarchs who, he alleges, financed terrorism, orchestrated political instability, and ultimately plotted his father’s assassination. He warned against extraditing key suspects to Haiti’s fragile judicial system, describing it as “a compromised system” that would allow impunity to prevail. He stressed that the crime’s scope and international implications demand accountability beyond Haiti’s crumbling legal structures.
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This is not the first heartfelt public plea from the Moïse family. Earlier this year, Martine Moïse, the former First Lady and stepmother of Joverlein, also addressed the international community, calling for greater transparency and urging U.S. and Haitian authorities to break the cycle of silence. While her letter was equally powerful, it raised a broader question: Are these open letters truly effective in pushing foreign governments to act? Or are they symbolic gestures meant to keep public attention alive, even as political will remains stagnant?
Both letters have resonated with the Haitian diaspora, who see them as reminders that the family continues to fight for justice despite the risks and the silence from those in power. However, beyond the symbolic weight, tangible results are harder to measure. The judicial process remains stalled, and many of the individuals accused of conspiring against President Moïse have yet to face trial.
How much impact can these letters have when sent to governments that may be balancing their own geopolitical interests? Will heartfelt appeals alone ever move the needle when it comes to justice in a case as complex and politically sensitive as this one?
Joverlein Moïse’s letter makes a strong moral argument, especially when he points out the complicity of foreign actors and the financial power of those accused. But without coordinated pressure from international bodies or decisive legal action, these letters risk becoming just another entry in the archives of Haiti’s long history of unresolved crimes.
There is no doubt that both Martine and Joverlein Moïse have given voice to the pain of a nation that refuses to forget. Yet, as the world watches Haiti wrestle with violence, gang rule, and weakened institutions, one must wonder: What will it take for these words to translate into action? Are we witnessing the fight for justice being waged with nothing more than ink and paper, while the real players remain untouchable?
Until the perpetrators of Jovenel Moïse’s assassination face trial and conviction, these letters however powerful will remain open-ended questions rather than answers.
