prison system

La Joya: a look inside

Eric Batista/La Prensa

prison blues:Inmates recount tales of crime, brutality and overcrowding in the country’s largest correctional facility. 1088821

Those on the outside call it La Joya. Inmates describe it as a tomb where men are buried alive. As the largest correctional complexes in the country, it bulges with more than 10,000 prisoners, some 49 percent over capacity, and within its walls a man’s life often hangs on a favor.

Sitting atop a hill in the community of Paso Blanco, about 40 minutes from the capital, life within the penitentiary bears a striking similarity to that found in Panama’s poorer townships. That’s to say that La Joya, and its smaller offshoot, La Joyita, are ruled by at least 20 criminal gangs.

One prisoner knows all too well the society of violence, drugs and lawlessness that reigns within La Joyita. Upon his arrival in 2002, the inmate, who asked his name not be used, remembers that the World Cup finals were in full swing, but he couldn’t watch a single match because he was too busy trying to survive.

“We spent days without sleep. It seemed like the whole world was armed with knives and it was just a matter of time before the violence erupted,” he recalled.

The inmate took refuge among a group of evangelical inmates for the next six months while disputes between rival gangs played out. At the end of the internal “war,” only one gang from Panama Viejo was left standing. Authorities eventually separated some of the ringleaders.

Now, with six years behind bars, the inmate says he’s learned that, in prison, everything has a price. Those “prices” often entail cash, and can range from $100 to $5,000 or more. The lower amount was the price placed on the murder of his fellow inmate, Gustavo Alexander Gálvez.

The “contract” was agreed upon in La Joyita and then carried out in El Renacer prison.

The larger sum, on the other hand, corresponds to the ransom on another inmate.

“They were hunting him,” a relative said. “But, he was transferred to La Joya just in time, thank God.”

And just as one’s life is negotiable, prisoners in the penitentiary sell anything necessary to save their heads. A hammock, the usual sleeping accessory, goes for $5; a hit of cocaine or marijuana, only $1 or $2; and a gallon of rum or Panamanian “seco” could cost as much as $80 or more. But when available, cold beer is the most coveted contraband, and can often be had at just $3.

Although there are occasions where prisoners must pay with sexual favors, the inmate la Prensa spoke with said that rumors of rape among inmates are exaggerated. At night, he clarified, most of the prisoners break into little groups to play dice or wager on sports or watch television.

If there is any peace inside La Joya’s overcrowded cells, it’s because prison administrators have attempted to separate criminals by category. The most dangerous, many of which belong to Los Perros de San Joaquín, the gang with the largest membership, spend their days locked inside the Hall 14. The most powerful, however, are sequestered in Hall 7, where last year several “luxury” cells were discovered, replete with plasma televisions, private gyms, kitchens and tile-lined bathrooms. That scandal led to the firing of the Sistema Penitenciario’s then director Carlos Landero.

Foreign inmates await their hearings in Hall 6, and former policemen and government officials bunk together with sick, elderly and homosexual convicts in Hall 2.

When violence does break out, however, it spreads quickly and often lasts several days. Last month, a rumble broke out among authorities and prisoners after the Policía Nacional was called in to perform a weapons search. The brawl ended with 24 inmates and 3 PN officers wounded. Police reported that no weapons were found.

For Ezekiel, a foreign prisoner detained in Hall 6, the fault for La Joya’s dangerous conditions lies with the government, who, he claims, fosters the internal violence by not offering inmates activities to channel their energy and boredom.

“Why aren’t we able to once leave the courtyard to breathe fresh air, or eat a decent meal and drink clean water?” he wondered. “You can’t participate in educational programs, and we have to wait 50 to 70 months just to have a hearing. Then those who are chosen to represent and defend us end up robbing us.”