Soon, my angels, my chosen brothers and sisters, began to pour into my home, each bearing a bottle of wine, cheese, or some other goody to share, along with those quiet, long hugs that say it all. We have spent a lifetime growing and learning together, sharing success, defeat, sadness, and joy, and here they were once again, by my side, replenishing my soul, allowing me to share my experience, letting me cry and laugh at the absurdity of it all.
I had just been through thirty-six of the most intense hours of personal growth I had ever experienced, and I had verified that I have an amazing family and unconditional friends, and that the love I am showered with is much more powerful than the hate Juan Pablo Olyslager Muñoz and a team of well-known attorneys could throw my way. I knew the battle would be long and hard, but now I also knew it would not be impossible.
Chapter 4
Months of Turmoil
The three months that followed were a blur of emotions. I was trying to get my life back on track, but I was now unemployed, I did not know where my husband was, and I had to deal with my ongoing legal issues. Nothing brought me more joy and a sense of purpose than my children.
I woke up on Saturday, the first morning back after a night in jail, rested and eagerly awaiting my children’s arrival. My mother and I had decided to treat their two nights away at Tío Turi’s house as if it had been their idea. I’d worry later about any questions they might have about where I’d been. They came home delighted, as five-year-old children tend to do, and I couldn’t hug them enough.
Later that Saturday morning, I remembered Christie’s words from the night before, “The first thing you should do tomorrow is read our classmates’ chat. It will be food for your soul.” I grabbed my cell phone, turned it on, and went straight to the chat. Tears started rolling down my cheeks. I was so moved by all the messages of love and support. That’s how I learned that my longtime friends had not only been vigilant about my situation, but had even opened a bank account to raise funds in the event the judge required me to pay bail. They had also managed to have two bail bond companies ready so that I would not have to spend another night in jail.
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A month went by and my home received visitors on a daily basis. My friends, family, and loved ones continued to make sure I was never alone. My therapist had once again diagnosed me with post-traumatic stress syndrome, which I had already suffered a year earlier when my husband told me of his financial troubles. I left my house only for the essentials or to meet in safe places with the people I loved. While at home, I was anxious and worried, thinking that “they” would come back to take me once again. My attorney insisted that this would not happen, but I didn’t feel reassured. If I had been taken once from the safety of my home to the carceleta, courtesy of a false statement against me and with no tangible proof to back it up, why would it not happen again? What was to stop them? I had seen with my own eyes at my hearing how the Mayora & Mayora attorneys representing Global Forest Partners had requested preventive detention, and my attorney had told me that after that judge recused herself from my case, they had gone to the new judge with the same request, which thankfully had been denied . . . for the time being. Only an idiot would not worry in my case.
Meanwhile, as the law firms of Mayora & Mayora and Frank Trujillo, who represented Olyslager, continued working together to make their false accusations stick in their evidence-less case against me, my original judge, the one who’d conducted my hearing on Friday, September 18, 2015, had been apprehended the following Monday, September 21, 2015, and taken into custody, charged with several crimes. I later saw an online video recorded during her preliminary hearing, when she said that judges are no longer able to judge justly in Guatemala, that they can no longer do their jobs and do what is best, since they are now coerced into doing what the public prosecutor’s office and the CICIG say must be done. She said that as long as CICIG is in Guatemala, all judges must say yes to the public prosecutor’s office and yes to CICIG in order to avoid finding themselves in the same predicament she was currently in: in custody.
I do not know if her statement was true, but I witnessed firsthand what unfounded accusations on paper can do in this country. All I know is that this judge allowed me due process, but she must have doubted the intentions of Mayora & Mayora, the public prosecutor, and her cousin Frank Trujillo’s law firm, because even though they were requesting my imprisonment, she refused, and instead sent me home to my children without having to pay bail.
As this court drama unfolded before my eyes, I had yet another battle to fight back at home: my children’s custody. Some ten days after having been advised while in the carceleta to transfer my children’s guardianship to my mother, in order to protect them from being taken by the state, my mother, my brother, my children, and I were summoned to a children’s court to explain to a judge that I, the mother of the children in question, had been released and was in full capacity to regain custody of my children. Under the guidance of our family attorney, we planned to request that the judge remove my mother as guardian and legally return my children to me. However, the process was not as simple as logic may imply, and so began my new nightmare. After hearing our statement, the judge decided that, aside from the fact that her own people did not make the required visits nor present the required reports to her, my children were now in the system and there was nothing she could do but follow protocol.
To determine if I, the mother, was the ideal person to care for Nina and Fabián, my mother and I were ordered to attend a twelve-meeting course called “Parenting School.” In addition, my mother, my children, and I would have to undergo psychological evaluations (state, not private), and receive psychological therapy until the state doctor determined that we were fine. This was ludicrous! I had freely taken an attorney’s advice thinking that this was the best course of action to protect my children, and once again I was verifying that the government and its intensions were the last thing anyone should allow into their private matters. Even though my children would live with me, my mother would continue being their legal guardian until we sorted all of this out. I was devastated. My family attorney urged me to focus on the positive and insisted that at least my children had not been physically taken away from me.
We left the courthouse flabbergasted by what had just happened. Our next hearing was scheduled for November 17, 2015. In the meantime, my mother and I were ordered to find a government-approved center for our therapy and to attend parenting classes, go to INACIF (the National Institute of Forensic Sciences) with the children for our psychological evaluations, and to the PNG (Procuraduría General de la Nación) for another evaluation. As if I didn’t already have enough on my plate! How do people who work manage to navigate these processes?
I called several state-approved centers and finally found a place quite far away from my home called CAIFGUA (Centro de Atención Integral Para el Fortalecimiento de las Familias Guatemaltecas). It was located just one block away from a designated red zone, areas known for having especially high crime rates, but it was the only place where my mother and I could attend parenting classes on Saturdays, and all of us together to therapy during the week.
Our first parenting class took place on Saturday, October 31, 2015. The subject was domestic violence and child abuse, irrelevant in our home, but interesting nonetheless. We had no option but to go through the motions, follow the judge’s orders, and hope that the issue would be resolved at our next hearing.
The following Tuesday, my mother, my children, and I were scheduled for another court-ordered psychological evaluation at INACIF. This doctor was the first one to ask me who was the person claiming I was an unfit parent. He insisted that someone must have declared that I wasn’t taking proper care of my children. I clarified my circumstances and explained the predicament I was in. He insisted there was no reason for me to be there, and after interviewing my children, he promised that we would have no trouble from him or his