Welcome to the blog "Children in Prison" from International Justice Consulting. International Justice Consulting came out of my work as Fulbright researcher in Mexico in 2012-2013. I spent the year researching juveniles being detained while they are awaiting trial. In Mexico, up to half of the entire prison population is awaiting trial. Depending on the state in Mexico, pretrial detention can last from six months to a year. Kids sitting in detention, waiting for a trial, for up to a year!
My first project was in Mexico City, where it is nearly impossible for kids to access pretrial release programs and pay bail. As a result of this research, I created International Justice Consulting (IJC), a non-profit organization who's goal is to help governments create alternatives to detention. IJC is currently working on incorporating and applying for 501(c)(3) status.
Monday, September 30, 2013
My Year in Mexico's Juvenile Prisons
I knocked on the guardhouse. When the stern-faced guarded opened the gate I showed him my ID and my letter authorizing me to enter the Mexico City boys’ prison. I registered, removed my belt and left everything but my notepad and pen. Then he led me down a passageway and into the large courtyard of the juvenile prison.
The director, a slender middle-aged woman named Alejandra gave me a lengthy tour of the facility; the dining room, kitchen, courtyard, wood shop, class rooms, and dormitories. As we went to each of the eight dormitories, she would ask the boys “Are you treated well? Are you well fed? Do you have any complaints?” Yes, Yes and No were the automatic answers each time.
Some boys were playing soccer in a concrete courtyard. Others stood in a circle joking with a guard. They all wore the same “uniform” of blue sweatpants, white t-shirts and blue flip-flops. It left an impression of happy boy with enriching activities, kind of like summer camp.
The last stop on the tour was a guitar class. The volunteer music teacher sat with about ten boys and they all played and sang a song they had written called Visiting Day:
“I feel so sad
I am angry
Because I am here
But I trust
In my family
Even though I did not want to listen.”
“Misplaced
Out of control
I cannot be happy here
When all of my family is somewhere else
Being locked up is so hard.”
“Saturday and Sunday
Families hurry to see their kids
And try to have a good time.
Even though it is just a little while
To be together even though they are locked up.
Because it´s the law.”
“The sad rain
Of Families crying
Because they have to be separated
For all of the damage
They have caused
By following evil men.”
“They didn’t realizing
That so many people
Support and love them
When they were in the street
Always drugged
My poor mother looked
To the heavens crying.”
“Saturday and Sunday…
Because it’s the law
Because it’s the law.”
The boys had written a dozen such songs for an upcoming music program. These were not summer camp songs. “With my shadow I am not alone”, “I want to be like air to be in anyplace” and “I do not want to be chained, I do not want to die here” were some of the lines from their songs.
Once the boys found out that I was an American lawyer they all wanted to tell me their stories. Most of them had been grabbed off the street by the police without knowing why they were being arrested. One mother, who tightly held her son’s hand, told me she had searched all over the city for him the day he disappeared and finally found him the next morning at the juvenile prison.
Most kids saw their parents every weekend on visiting day. Not Pablo.[1] Pablo was a small, smiley little thirteen-year-old. He hadn’t talked to his parents in weeks. They didn´t even know he was in prison. Pablo came from an indigenous community in the mountains of Oaxaca about eight hours from Mexico City. Despite his smile, he was scared and very alone.
The most ubiquitous image of juvenile delinquency in the Mexican media is the “niño sicario” or child assassin, a thirteen year old boy who confessed to participating in ten murders. Despite the sensational journalism surrounding this one case, 90 percent of the juveniles in Mexico City were arrested for property crimes and less than three percent for homicide.
The justice system is hard on petty criminals but ineffective at prosecuting organized crime and violent offenses. This is because prosecutors rely almost exclusively on confessions, often extracted by mistreatment or torture, but they are not experienced in building complex cases based on carefully gathered evidence. The United States Agency for International Development has been helping Mexico reform its justice system and increase the respect for human rights. But almost no resources have gone to the juvenile system.
I wished Pablo luck, just like I wished luck and said a prayer for every child I met. They would need it.
Kids in Mexico’s detention system often suffer from depression and stop going to school. Some will join gangs and be rearrested as adults for serious crimes. The lack of services to help them transition back makes Mexico’s public security problems worse by turning petty-criminals into serious adult offenders.
As I left I thanked Pablo for talking to me. He was accused of a petty theft and would normally be released on bail. But until his parents showed up and paid $450 he would stay in prison. Pablo wasn’t alone. About ten percent of the kids here couldn’t afford to pay bail and had to stay in prison for up to six months until the end of their trials. Because it’s the law, because it’s the law.
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