Later that week, I was resting on my bed listening to Bob Marley when I heard loud chanting coming from outside. It was the kind of noise made by a football crowd. At first I ignored it, thinking it was a drunken neighbour watching a game on television at full volume. But as the noise grew louder, I could tell that the voices were real. Even then I assumed that it was just a group of angry protestors passing by in the street outside the prison. However, the sound didn’t fade away; it got stronger and, judging by the volume, it seemed to be coming from somewhere inside the prison. I got up and opened my door to investigate.
From my doorway, the noise was even louder. Although I couldn’t see them, or catch what they were saying, there must have been hundreds of men shouting the same two words, over and over. The sound was definitely coming from another section in the jail, but even in Pinos, a general panic had broken out. Our normally tranquil section courtyard was in absolute chaos, with inmates running about in confusion, shouting urgently. My neighbours also started coming out of their rooms to see what the fuss was and as soon as they heard the chanting, they slammed their doors behind them and ran downstairs. Something was definitely going on. I didn’t know what, but it was big – that was for sure.
‘What’s happening? Where are you going?’ I tried asking, but no one had time to answer. They were all too busy running down the stairs and out of the section towards the uproar. I eventually managed to slow someone down enough to get a response, but the only word I could actually make out as he slipped past me was ‘violadores’ . Unfortunately, I didn’t know what it meant and by then, there was almost no one left in the section to explain it to me. They had all disappeared. It must have been a mass breakout, and I was about to miss out. In fact, I might already be too late!
I jumped into my trainers and grabbed all the money I could find. I would have liked to have taken more stuff, but there wasn’t time to look for anything else. Besides, anything I had to carry would only slow me down. I hadn’t even done up my shoelaces before I was running so fast towards the main courtyard that I almost tripped over. As I approached the section gateway, the noise became deafening and I could finally make out what they were shouting: ‘¡Tráiganlos! ¡Tráiganlos!’ I didn’t understand what that meant either, and I still didn’t know what was going on.
When I arrived at the courtyard I had to stop suddenly. There were so many people that you could hardly move. Apart from when we had to line up together and sing the Bolivian national anthem, I had never seen so many inmates in the one place. I stood there, out of breath, looking around wildly for a hole in the wall or an open gate, while the crowd surged around, shouting and yelling and punching their fists in the air.
‘¡Tráiganlos! ¡Tráiganlos!’ they chanted, but I couldn’t see where they were escaping from.
A big roar then went up from the crowd and it surged towards the narrow corridor that led down to the inside sections. Ahead, I saw that a man had been lifted above the heads of the crowd and was being carried down the passageway. Most of the prisoners started heading that way, so I joined them and, being taller and stronger than most of them, managed to push my way through faster. I accidentally knocked a few people over in my haste. I didn’t know exactly where we were going or what we were doing, but I wasn’t going to miss out.
When we reached the main section of Cancha, everyone stopped running and I noticed that another man had been hoisted above the crowd. The pair were looking around worriedly, wanting to get down, but I assumed that was because they were afraid of being dropped.
Still the crowd was shouting, ‘¡Tráiganlos! ¡Tráiganlos!’ but now that we weren’t moving, I concluded it wasn’t a breakout. I didn’t know what to think, really, but it was obvious that no one was escaping. Maybe they had won a football match, or it was some type of protest and these men were the leaders.
The main action was concentrated around where the swimming pool was located. I thought perhaps they were going to be thrown into the water as part of the celebration and I wanted to get a closer look, so I started pushing towards the pool. The crowd swayed back and forth violently and I really had to use my strength to get through. Then there was a huge splash and a warlike roar went up from the spectators. I still couldn’t see what was going on, but if it was a celebration, it was a very angry one. There was another splash as the second man went in, and this time everyone cheered. No one wanted to let me forward but I was determined to see, so I continued to struggle. The closer to the pool I got, the more aggressive the crowd became.
When it seemed I could get no closer to the pool, I recognised the giant inmate with the scarred face towering next to me and asked him what was happening.
‘What is it? Who are they?’ I shouted above the intense clamour of the crowd.
‘Los violadores. Se van a morir.’ He pointed to a third man who had just been brought into the section and was being carried towards the pool. There was that word I didn’t understand again – violadores. I understood the second part, though: ‘They are going to die.’
‘What does “violador” mean?’ I tugged at his sleeve and when I heard the word ‘violación’, I finally understood. These men were the gang rapists I had seen arrested on television before Christmas.
Somehow I made it to the very front, staying about half a metre from the edge of the pool for safety since the people behind me were still pushing and fighting to move forward. From there, I could see exactly what was happening.
There were now two men in the water and I got there just as one of them was struggling to get out via the steps that ran down the side of the pool. I don’t know what they had done to him beforehand, but he was bleeding from cuts and wounds and looked like he was thoroughly exhausted. However, the crowd wouldn’t let him out. As soon as he made it to the final step, one of the spectators barged him with a shoulder and he went back in, hitting his head on the concrete edge as he fell. Everyone laughed and another cheer went up from the crowd. At first, I thought they were just going to teach him a lesson, but then things got more serious.
When he tried to get out the second time, someone attempted to loop a length of electrical cable around his neck. He managed to free himself using his hands and jumped back in the water, but then the crowd began throwing things at him – rocks and debris, or anything they could get their hands on – and kicking him whenever he came near the edge. This went on for quite some time. Bit by bit, they were drowning him. I stood glued to the spot, fascinated.
The second rapist was having even more trouble. He was also being beaten and bombarded with chunks of brick, but it was worse for him because he couldn’t swim; he was splashing about everywhere and wasting most of his energy simply trying to stay afloat. He kept going under and swallowing mouthfuls of water and I think after a short time he realised that if he didn’t get out of the pool soon, he would drown.
When he came up for air the next time, he looked around frantically for a way out. Seeing that the stairs were guarded, he put his hands over the cement edge to pull himself up, but one of the inmates stamped on them, hard, and he cried out. Then he tried again on the other side of the pool, but this time two inmates trod on his fingers and ground them into the concrete. He struggled to pull his hands free but with the full weight of a man crushing down on each hand, he couldn’t. Then another prisoner from the crowd stepped forward and booted him hard in the face and he fell back, almost unconscious, held above the water only because his fingers were still trapped.
When the men lifted their feet, the rapist’s hands fell away and he slipped under the surface for quite some time. Part of me wanted to help him, but there was no way I could fight against so many people. It would have been too dangerous to attempt to drag him out with a thousand angry prisoners behind me who wanted him dead. Besides, a strange part of me wanted to see what would happen. I continued watching with a sick curiosity.
He was still alive, although only just. He made it up for air, coughing, and managed to recover enough breath to start splashing around again. Not for long, though. The third rapist was now thrown on top of him, and that man’s hipbone connected directly with his head. Everyone roared with laughter. After that, he didn’t surface again.
While all this was happening, the first rapist had still been trying to get out. One of the prisoners had fetched a plank of wood and the next time the rapist came near the steps, he smashed it over his head and he also began to lose consciousness. Meanwhile, another prisoner had got hold of a live electrical cable and was dipping two wires into the water, trying to electrocute him. At that point, he looked like he was about to give in – one more hit would have finished him – but that was when all attention turned to the third rapist, who had just been thrown in.
The third rapist went straight for the steps, but the crowd punched him and kicked him and the blows sent him tumbling back into the pool. When he surfaced and tried to lift himself over the edge, the spectator with the thick cable whipped him across the face and his whole cheek opened up. He managed to avoid the man with the wooden plank and tried again and again to scramble out, but each time he got to the edge, he was kicked in the head and pushed back in.
Eventually, he found his way to the stairs again and this time forced his way up, taking all the blows with a new-found strength. Even when the plank of wood was cracked across his face, he didn’t stop. I thought he was going to make it, but then I saw a hand shoot out of the crowd and strike him just below the ribs. It wasn’t a very hard blow but I could tell immediately that something was wrong. He froze on the top step and looked down to where he had been hit. Then he clutched his stomach and it began to bleed. He’d been stabbed.
Because he hesitated, the next punch hit him properly and its impact caused him to overbalance. Someone spat on him, and another kick sent him tumbling into the water. Even though he was bleeding heavily, he kept trying to get out but every time he approached the edge, a cheer went up from the crowd as the man with the plank of wood forced him to retreat. I could tell that he was getting tired. Eventually, he stayed in the very middle, just out of reach of the prisoner with the plank of wood. The water began turning a nasty brown colour and, next to him, the body of the second rapist floated to the surface.
With the crowd’s attention fixed on attacking this third rapist, the first man had managed to climb out of the pool without being noticed. He was lying half-drowned, only two feet from where I was standing, dripping water and blood and panting desperately to recover his breath. I thought he had had enough punishment and they would just leave him alone, but now that the third rapist was out of reach in the middle of the pool, the inmates turned their focus back on him.
Someone kicked him in the neck. Then another prisoner started stomping on his head. Another one actually jumped on his head with both feet and I heard the most horrible sound as his skull split. I hadn’t done anything about them attacking the rapists before, but seeing this was too much for me.
‘Stop it!’ I shouted in English and a few people looked at me, wondering what I was saying. I was so distressed I couldn’t remember any Spanish. ‘You’re killing him!’
At that point I think I must have started going into a kind of shock because of what I was seeing, because my memory of what happened after that is a bit confused. Certain things are very clear, but there are gaps where I don’t remember properly. And everything happened so quickly that it’s difficult to remember the exact order.
‘¡Basta!’ I think I yelled again, more forcefully, remembering the Spanish. This time they understood. I could see their angry faces telling me not to get involved, but I moved forward to stop them because I couldn’t bear what I was seeing. It was too horrible. I just wanted it to stop. Then the crowd started to turn against me. One of the men made a movement to hit me, and when I put my hands up to defend myself someone grabbed me around the neck from behind and pulled me backwards.
It was a thick, strong arm that held me but I managed to free myself by lifting my feet off the ground and using my falling weight to slip from under his grip. Clenching my fists, I turned to defend myself against the attacker. It was the big man with the scar. He must have been twice my size and there was no way I could win against him, so I tried to step sideways but someone pushed me in the back and he grabbed me again, spinning me around effortlessly and getting me in another hold from behind.
I had never felt anyone so strong in my life, and all I could do to avoid being thrown in the water myself was to use my legs. I got a good foothold on the ground and jumped backwards with all my force, trying to push us both back away from the pool or to knock us over so as to make it more difficult for them to get me in the pool.
It didn’t work, though. The man with the scar was so big and heavy and his feet were so firmly planted on the ground that nothing happened. I tried to push us back again and again, but we weren’t going anywhere. Instead, he tightened his grip and lifted me up so that only my toes were touching the concrete. In that position, all I could do was wriggle helplessly and kick out at anyone around me. The crowd moved out of the way, leaving an almost clear passage to the water. There was only one thing on the ground between myself and the pool and it was the most horrifying thing I have ever seen in my life. I only saw it for a few moments before I was lifted completely off the ground, but I will never, ever, forget it.
I thought that I was about to be thrown into the pool, but the opposite occurred. Still gripping me strongly under the arms, the big man with the scar pulled me away from the pool, half-dragging, half-lifting me through the angry mob until we were in the open. He didn’t harm me at all, and once we were outside the crowd and away from danger, he let me stand up properly.
‘Tranquilo, hombre,’ he said in my ear, trying to calm me down. When I finally realised he wasn’t trying to hurt me, I stopped struggling and he loosened his grip slightly.
‘Tranquilo. ¿Sí?’ he repeated, letting me go completely. When I turned and looked at him, he gave me a warning look, said something about not interfering, then went back into the crowd, leaving me standing on my own.
I was now safe from attack, but I was so shocked by what I had seen that I started shaking uncontrollably. I ran for my life, back up through the passage that led to the main courtyard, which was completely empty. There were lots of policemen gathered at the gates, staring towards where the cheering and shouting was coming from.
I ran back into Pinos and through the empty section courtyard with my footsteps echoing off the walls. It seemed that no one was there, but out of the corner of my eye I saw a door move slightly and instinctively turned my head. I couldn’t see properly because the opening was narrow, but there was a woman who was nursing a baby peering out, watching me. I think my shoelaces must still have been undone, or maybe it was because my muscles were so weak that they couldn’t support my weight. I tripped and fell on the concrete. When I tried to get to my feet, I fell back down. Then, what I had seen at the pool came back to me and I started vomiting.
The rapist’s skull had been cracked and the top of his head was completely open, so I could see right inside. A section of his skull was still attached and it looked like a lid with all the brains spilling out over it onto the concrete. There was also a lot of blood; a thick, dark pool of it had formed around his head. He was probably dead by then, but the inmates just kept jumping up and down on top of him and there was a horrible crunching sound as his skull fractured into small pieces. Brains kept coming out as his head was squashed flat. Everything was a big, sticky mess of different colours with clumps of hair mixed in. The blood itself was a really dark red colour, but there were also grey and blue parts of brain that looked like raw meat. I think I even saw something that was green.
I remember that one of the prisoners had stopped then and stood back from the body. I thought he must have finally finished, but it was just to wipe his shoes on the concrete because they were all bloody and there were stringy pieces of brain and bits of hair stuck to them. Then he went back and kept treading on the mangled face. Behind him, the water had turned a horrible, murky brown colour and the crowd had started attacking the third rapist again. He was too exhausted to escape and was just trying to keep out of their reach in the middle of the pool, using the face-down body of the second rapist to stay afloat.
That was all I saw, because the man with the scar started pulling me away, but it was too much for me. I had never before seen anyone killed. I had never even seen a dead body. And to see someone killed like that, right in front of me, was the most horrible experience. No one deserves to die like that. I don’t care what they have done.
I vomited again. I thought the woman with the baby would come out to help me, but when I looked up at her, the door clicked shut. I looked around, thinking that someone else might be able to help me, but everything was shut up. There wasn’t a single soul in the section; they were all down by la piscina or behind their doors, so I had to make it up to my room on my own.
As soon as I opened the door, I vomited on the carpet. I hadn’t even felt it coming. After a few more times, there was no food left in my stomach, but the muscles inside my body kept contracting as if there was. I leaned forward, supporting myself over the table with a stream of thick saliva hanging from the corner of my mouth, until the contractions subsided. Then I sat down on a chair, feeling weak, and wiped my mouth clean using my T-shirt. It was only then that I noticed the Bob Marley tape was still playing. My stereo was set on continuous play and Bob hadn’t stopped singing about peace or hope for humanity.