The vulnerable lives of the prison

PalmaThe 74-year-old priest from Palma, Jaume Alemany Pasqual, is the delegate of Prison Pastoral Care for Mallorca. He has just returned from spending a week walking the Camino de Santiago with a group of inmates. “It is a pioneering initiative throughout the country,” he says with pride. “I launched it thirty years ago when I took on the position, during the time of Bishop Teodor Úbeda. Back then, the Palma prison was located in the Cas Capiscol neighborhood, which closed in 1999 to move to a new complex on the Valldemossa road. The Ministry of the Interior looked favorably upon the Camino de Santiago project, and today it is already part of the reintegration program of many penitentiary centers. The dozen people who come with me have been selected for their good behavior.”

Alemany exudes kindness. “In prison, I dedicate myself to accompanying very vulnerable people who have hit rock bottom and are asking themselves questions they had never asked before. It is not an easy job. I have learned to better understand the human condition. We are all the same. The only thing that differentiates us is the opportunities that life gives us. A person who, during childhood, has not had anyone to tell them what was right and what was wrong, finds it very easy to commit crimes.” The priest is clear about what the main factor is that cuts lives short. “The majority of people who enter prison do so for issues related to drugs. Since drugs are a big business, no one dares to put a stop to it.”

Knowing how to forgive

Currently, the Palma prison has nearly 1,300 inmates. 6% are women, and about 500 are foreigners from around fifty different nationalities. In the Ibiza prison, there are about a hundred inmates, and in the Menorca one, about sixty—inaugurated in 2011 with 210 places, it is the least occupied in the State. “For some people,” says Alemany, “the deprivation of liberty is positive, as they take advantage of the experience to learn to read and write or, even, to study a university degree. For others, it has saved them from the world of drugs. In general, however, being locked up does not help with rehabilitation. To help with this, much more resources should be allocated to achieve more personalized monitoring.” The priest denounces the lack of productive workshops inside the facility. “Only 10% of the inmates work as cooks, foundry workers, or gardeners. Before, there were more. Following the 2008 economic crisis, we were left without the main collaborating industries, Buades and Majórica.”

Alemany highlights a key aspect in the accompaniment process. “Until the inmates learn to ask for forgiveness from the victim or the family, there is no possible progress. They must also know how to forgive themselves, because a person cannot always be feeling like a victim of their own mistakes. We all have the right to make mistakes and to rectify them.” On the other side, this gesture is more difficult to accept. “For a person whose life has been destroyed, it is harder to forgive. But, if you don't forgive, hatred eats you up from the inside.”

The current rise in the cost of living is an issue that conditions the hopes of the prison population. “There are people who, when they have to leave prison, have nowhere to go. Without family or work, the future looks very bleak. This is a danger to their reintegration. Prison Pastoral Care has halfway houses for those who are starting to enjoy some leave or have obtained their freedom. The latter, however, cannot stay there for very long. They have to know how to fend for themselves”. Alemany insists that we are facing a social failure. “If there were more street educators and more support for citizens in vulnerable situations, many would not end up in prison. A prisoner costs the Administration a lot of money, as it has to pay for officials, facilities, and various services. It would be cheaper to take care of the person before they entered. This way we would also save ourselves a lot of suffering on both sides. Furthermore, depending on the crime, there should be more effective alternatives to prison”.

Human wickedness

The priest remembers the time when on the Valldemossa road there were many politicians convicted of corruption: “It drew attention, because they were not conflictive people. Some who were lawyers helped other prisoners with bureaucratic procedures. They soon realized, however, that in prison you cannot trust anyone.” Christian love for one's neighbor does not prevent Alemany from noting that human evil also exists. “There are individuals who have committed crimes due to mental pathologies that have not been diagnosed. There are others who have been educated in violence since they were small. And then there is a minority of people who are wicked, who are capable of doing harm to others without showing any kind of remorse.”

A prisoner whom Alemany accompanied is the Dutchman Romano Liberto Van Der Dussen. He was locked up for 12 years, accused of three rape cases he had not committed. He was released in 2016 after the Supreme Court reviewed his case. Van Der Dussen never enjoyed any prison leave because he refused to acknowledge his guilt in the events. For his own safety, he was transferred to seven different prisons, the last one being in Palma. “His case – insists the clergyman – demonstrates that the judicial system is not infallible, so irreversible punishments cannot be applied. In countries like the USA, they would have sentenced him to the death penalty.”

Combating prejudices

For eight years, the lawyer from Campanet, Catalina Vanrell Marroig, has been in charge of defending inmates at the Palma prison. “I started the job with quite a few prejudices. Very soon, however, I got rid of them. Most of the people I assist live in social exclusion, which has caused them mental health problems. They are victims of their family environment and of the society that has marginalized them and left them without options. There are also those who are well-positioned economically who carry emotional deficiencies.”

This criminal law professional, with a calm yet decisive demeanor, has her own office, but also works on the public defender shift. “It is a voluntary service that, even though it is very poorly paid, I like to maintain to be able to help those most in need.” The profession requires swimming between two waters. “I always ask my clients if they are guilty. They, however, have the right to tell me a lie. Therefore, even if I do not believe them, I must guarantee them a good defense. Many times I have encountered cases that are indefensible. However, acquittal almost never occurs. I can only manage to mitigate the sentence.”

Vanrell is kept awake by the very serious crimes she handles, such as murders and rapes. “As a mother of a young girl, child rapes cause me special concern. Over the years, however, I have learned that my task is to defend a person regardless of whether they are guilty or not. A doctor who has to save the life of a terrorist has the same moral duty. I would only resort to conscientious objection in a case of pedophilia.” The interaction with the client ends up generating empathy. “I am capable of seeing the human side in a criminal monster and understanding that the atrocity they have committed is the result of their personal problems. I can even come to feel pity for them. After the sentencing, however, I disengage completely.”

‘Trial by media’

The well-known media cases exasperate the lawyer. “There are media outlets that distort and simplify sordid cases. This means that, in trials with a popular jury, the selected individuals enter the courtroom already ‘contaminated’ by what they have read or heard. Thus, even if they try to do their job well, they are often forced to give a response that satisfies social pressure. There is the idea that if, from this perspective, ‘justice is not served,’ the institution can be discredited.” A paradigmatic case of ‘trial by media’ was that of Rocío Wanninkhof, a 19-year-old girl from Malaga, murdered in 1999. A popular jury declared Dolores Vázquez, the young woman's mother's ex-partner, guilty without evidence, who was accused of having acted with a motive of revenge. A short time later, the true perpetrator of the crime was arrested thanks to DNA samples. Vázquez, a victim of the lesbophobia fueled by the press, was released in 2002 after having spent 17 months in prison.

Vanrell does not believe much in the functioning of the prison system. “Prison is just a way to temporarily separate dangerous people from society. Few leave with the lesson learned not to reoffend. The root of the problem, conflict, should be attacked through education and social services.” To facilitate reintegration, inmates have access to mental health programs with all kinds of workshops. Alicia Gispert Terrasa, a social integrator at GREC (Group of Street Educators and Work with Minors), is one of those responsible. “Many have already been diagnosed and, furthermore, live with serious addictions such as drug use. Deprivation of liberty does not help their state of mind at all, either. If there is even one success story of reintegration, our program is already worth it. From the outside, it is very easy to judge. People are unaware of the dramas that inmates carry with them.”