Inmate #198011

People looked at me in prison as if I were Pablo Escobar or someone important with loads of money, so they never messed with me.

It's been more than 20 years since I was released and this is the first time I’ve talked about it. [Takes a deep breath] This is not a story, it's a great life experience.

I was inmate #198011 for 9 years and was known as “Colombia”.

I had 11 years in total, but thanks to a parole I was released 2 years before. Although the amount of drugs I took to the US was small, I was given more time than usual, because I never ratted someone out. The guys who recruited me knew everything about me, where I lived, my daily activities, my family, friends, and especially the problems I was in when they offered the deal. They took advantage of the mental state I was in.

It's unbelievable, but I made it through immigration and security and nobody noticed the white dusty trace I left on the floor. I was one step away from walking out of the airport in Florida, but my shoe sole, where I was carrying the drugs, called me out. One step! [Laughs sarcastically].

The policeman guarding that last door stopped me and I froze when he started asking questions. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but I knew that was it.

Memories of those first hours are very blurry. I know, though, that I sobbed to the point I couldn't breathe.

The period between a judge giving you a sentence and being taken to prison is the worst, because there’s a lot of uncertainty, you’re trying to accept your mistake and there are a lot of emotions. The federal agents are also verbally violent, they break you by taking your clothes off, touching your body, making you sleep standing up, and chaining your feet, neck and hands when you go from one place to another.

It was humiliating.

I couldn’t help but start walking around with my head down from that day until I met my Jamaican cellmate months later, who first tried to kill me and then taught me to “keep my head up”. We became great friends.

When I was convicted and sent to prison, I felt relieved because at least I had some sort of information about my future and would stop moving around. The treatment was better, but I was the only fucking hispanic, so I couldn’t communicate with anyone.

The first months and years were the hardest. Everything was the same and I gained a lot of weight.

A new year didn't mean anything for those who are in prison, you just want time to pass as quickly as possible. I used to ask God to give me patience every morning when I woke up, and eventually started feeling grateful for just being alive.

I tried to keep my mind busy as much as I could, to block thoughts about my family and life beyond prison: I cleaned the hallways, read the Bible 4 times, read the Quran, went to AA meetings even though I wasn’t an alcoholic, walked, played football, learned to play basketball, and taught Spanish. I joined every activity I could and received a lot of diplomas for my behaviour.

With time, more latinos started coming in.

I remember a story from a Guatemalan. He was the driver for jewelry robbers, like those in Fast and the Furious, until one day the car they were fleeing in went down a lake and he couldn’t escape. He was given 23 years in prison.

A guy from Honduras lost in court after being sued by the parents of a minor he had an ‘affair’ with. He was given 18 years. A 35 year old ‘boricua’, attempted to murder his business partner and wife, but she survived, took her revenge and he was put behind bars.

My Mexican friend, a musician from a famous band, was caught with drugs hidden inside his guitar while crossing the border. He wrote a song about me while we were there. I’ll sing it to you later.

In prison you meet people that have made a mistake, but that doesn’t define their essence as human beings. Unfortunately, society makes sure to condemn them, us, for life, but life's greatest experiences also come from big mistakes.

Fast forward 9 years, after being granted parole by the US government, one day at 3 a.m. they released me. I couldn’t believe I was finally walking through the doors. I was happy, but being in contact with society was also really hard and shocking.

I remember sitting at the back of the plane while being deported when I saw a kid playing with videogames and couldn’t understand what I was seeing. I was genuinely terrified.

I've been a very nervous person since I came out.

Apart from that, the flight back home was special. The crew knew I was just released from prison, because I was escorted by federal agents to the plane, and they were given my documents. Once the plane took off, a flight attendant came to me with a message written on a piece of paper saying: “Congratulations, you’re free”.

Yes the story is real, and was given to me during an interview. Some details have been changed to protect his identity. To you: thank you for letting me have the priviledge of sharing your story.

---

Note for you, who are from another country:

Everytime I travel, I’m scared of being flagged by my nationality and framed for being a drug trafficker. Colombians are traumatized by the international prejudice and stories behind drugs.

We’ve tried to put this behind us for years by investing on a 'War on Drugs' which hasn't been easy, instead on focusing on developing our infraestructure, businesses or education system.

For those of us who live abroad, it feels very personal when you think you know our story from watching ‘Narcos’ or ‘Pablo Escobar’. Or when you ask “Do you have that white powder with you?”.

Even though Colombia is still the number one producer of cocaine in the world, I could bet most of us haven’t even tried it, because we live the negative consequences of dealing with this social issue. The one that is not shown on screen.

That bag of cocaine you (or your friends) hold in your hands, has gone through a chain of violence, crime and blood; leaving us with high rates of deforestation, poverty, and vulnerable people in prison.

I’m not telling you to stop consuming. Drugs are a fact and need to be addressed politically in another way.

If you feel curious, ask with respect, I'm sure we'll talk about it openly. Just be mindful of the words you use, you're touching a nerve.