After spending four days and four nights in that holding cell, about to face the hearing of her life, Carmen was an example to us all. She managed to prepare herself, remain calm and focused, and with very little sleep, if any, she walked out of the carceleta with her head high, her makeup on, and yet another beautiful braid, which would later become famous, dangling down her back. As she left the cell later that Friday morning, the inmates all cheered and wished her well. “God be with you, Licenciada,” they said, using the title you give people with academic degrees.
Her hearing before a judge, and the media spotlight lasted eight hours, and after all was said and done, the judge sent her to preventive custody at El Centro de Detención Preventiva para Mujeres Santa Teresa. In the ensuing months, I could not stop thinking about her. When I met her, I had known nothing about her case, despite how public it had been. All I knew was that I met someone who was going through one of the worst moments of her life and still managed to be generous to me. Little did I know that that would not be the last time we crossed paths.
Soon after the women from COF arrived, another group of inmates from Santa Teresa came into our cell. I struck up a conversation with a young woman whom I recognized from the previous day. She had stood out that day, amusing us with her antics when she hung out by the open prison bars and asked people for cigarettes as they drove by in their cars. She was probably close to thirty years old, short, chubby, and spunky, and was wearing white jeans and a skimpy black and yellow tank top—one of those people who are hard to forget. As we talked, she told me she had already spent three years in Santa Teresa while she waited for the Attorney General’s Office to finish its investigation. She was accused of being a gang member and an extortionist, along with five other women and several men, but she claimed that they were all from different parts of Guatemala and that none of them knew one another on the streets; however, she did confess that after being unemployed for months, when a friend offered her $13.50 to go to the bank and cash a check for her, knowing she needed the money, she accepted. She was well aware this was not kosher, but she agreed anyway and decided to not ask questions. However, she claimed to have never partaken in gang member activities.
Meanwhile, she’d been separated from her eleven-year-old daughter for the past three years, not only because she was behind bars, but because her sister had refused to bring the girl to prison to visit her. This was one of the many stories I would continue to encounter in the following years, stories that shed light on different realities I had been unaware of in the past, realities and people that would soon become a piece of the fabric that makes up who I am today.
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After sending Carmen off to her fate before the judge, we all returned to our places and waited. There was not much else to do in the carceleta but wait. I glanced over the copy of Olyslager’s accusations and read it once again, scribbling notes beside every statement that involved me. I had no idea what they were basing their accusations on, but I was quite sure it was very unlikely that they had any documents incriminating me because I am one of those rare people who actually read every word on a document before signing it. However, I was married to the main defendant, so I could have inadvertently signed something along the way. Everything else regarding this situation was out of my hands, so I reminded myself that all I had to do was tell the truth.
At around 8:30 a.m., my name was called. The women wished me good luck and repeated, “¡Que Dios la acompañe, Seño!” Yes, may God be with me. The guards opened the door and my newly appointed young male guard handcuffed me. I was searched by a female courthouse security officer before I was allowed to enter the tower and walk up the four flights of stairs. I was speechless when I reached the second floor and found my friends Karla and Tuffy; my two brothers; my sister, Gaby, and her husband, Carlos; and my dad waiting for me. A short while later, my stepmother, Anamaría, and my dear friends Kali and Christie joined us.
While my 9 a.m. hearing kept getting pushed back, we managed to use the extra time together that morning to chat, cry, and even laugh. How blessed I felt in spite of the situation. Karla had brought me a small makeup bag with a bit of everything, a small treasure in that barren place.
I cannot begin to imagine what my loved ones felt as they waited in the same hallway as Olyslager. It was surreal for me, too. I couldn’t believe what he was putting us through, but somehow, we all managed to keep calm. If he had done this to someone I love, rather than to me, I am not sure I could have contained my fury.
My name was finally called and it was time to face the judge. My loved ones hugged me, Christie put a Saint Benito bracelet on my wrist, and Tuffy placed a religious commemorative stamp in my back pocket and said, “You are going in holding the Virgin Mary’s hand.” I am not a religious person, because I have never needed religion to feel God as ever-present in my life, but I must confess that Tuffy’s statement did make me feel protected as I walked toward my unknown fate.
I entered the courtroom handcuffed, next to my attorney and followed by my guard, with a clear conscience, because I had nothing to hide. Olyslager came in with his attorney, the state’s public prosecutor, and two other men. I had no idea why there were so many people there, carrying suitcases full of papers, while I had nothing but my scribbled notes on the copy of Olyslager’s accusation against me, and an attorney who was a stranger I had just briefly met the day before, holding a couple of folders in his hands. The day I was apprehended, my family was forced to find a lawyer as quickly as possible to try to mend the unforeseen circumstances I was suddenly facing. Arturo Miranda was recommended by one of our acquaintances and was immediately hired. I could only pray that Miranda had prepared sufficiently and was good at his job.
The room was small, but it managed to hold the judge’s bench, a young man seated next to the judge working on a computer, and two other desks facing the judge: one for my attorney and me, the other for the opposing team. As I sat there observing my surroundings, the judge finally walked in and we all stood up. While we waited for the judge’s instructions, I asked my guard to loosen my cuffs because they were hurting me.
I now knew that this day had been in the works for over a year, because Olyslager´s statements against me at the Attorney General’s Office were dated October 15, 2014. This indicates how long it had taken for a judge to sign an arrest warrant against me, and the time it had taken the accusers to execute the master plan to include me as the third person necessary to make this a criminal case. They could have chosen my husband’s assistant, or maybe a junior accountant, but they had chosen me. They had had over a year to reconsider, to realize that there was no evidence against me, that I was already a victim, that I had two small children. But they obviously did not care. I was not human to them. I was simply a dispensable object they were going to use to get to my husband.
The legal proceeding that followed is a bit murky in my mind because I frankly did not understand much of what was happening; I was completely overwhelmed by the circumstances. I do remember that one of the first things Olyslager’s attorney did was ask the judge to recuse herself. Why? Because the attorney represented the law firm of Hector and Frank Trujillo, and they were the judge’s first cousins. I couldn’t believe my ears. If the judge recused herself due to this conflict, I would have to spend the entire weekend in the courthouse’s holding cell until another judge could hear my case on Monday or Tuesday. To my dismay, the judge agreed; however, she clarified that she would recuse herself from this case only after she had heard my first declaration, as it was my right to be heard by a judge within twenty-four hours of my apprehension. And so, I survived the first blow of many still to come.
It was now my turn, time to give my statement, which was basically a response to Olyslager’s accusatory testimony against me. I looked him straight in the eye and stated that I did not know him, that I had never spoken to him, that I had never asked him for money, that I had never accepted or received money from him, nor had I ever managed his money. I said I considered it an act of cowardice to attack me in response to the hatred he held for my husband, and that I considered his accusations violence against my integrity, my reputation, my emotional state, and my financial well-being. I continued with my statement, explaining that I had only become aware of my husband’s financial troubles on July 29, 2014, and had been fortunate to have been hired as fundraising and public relations coordinator for AYUVI shortly thereafter. Furthermore,