Pieces of My Life. Rachel Dann

stories about wrongly accused people going down for years, or even getting the death penalty, for crimes they didn’t commit.

      ‘Well, I’m sure there are some people in there for the wrong reasons, or for no reason at all,’ Marion continues. ‘But no, the vast majority of the girls we know definitely did commit the crime. Our British lady, for example, was caught with nearly two kilos of cocaine stuffed inside condoms in her stomach. You can’t really argue with that.’

      The lump of cheese empanada I’ve just bitten into curdles in my mouth and clogs in my throat. My eyes water as I struggle to swallow it without gagging.

      ‘What you must keep in mind, Kristie,’ Roberto says kindly, patting me on the back as my eyes stream, ‘is that until now the system was incredibly unfair. Not just here, but in most of Latin America and other parts of the developing world. There are people in prison with twelve-year sentences, for carrying a packet of cocaine through customs on holiday with their friends. No previous offences or intention to do it again. Meanwhile, other people, who have been involved in criminal organisations for years, right at the top, handling millions of dollars’ worth of drugs, get a sentence half that length. It all depends on the whim of the judge at the time of your trial.’

      ‘And who you know, who your family is, and how much you’re able to pay,’ Liza adds, bitterness in her voice.

      ‘Jesus Christ,’ I say, before I can stop myself, and guiltily notice Marion and Liza’s looks of shock.

      ‘So this new criminal code aims to redress the balance, review the sentences of every drugs prisoner according to how much they were actually caught with, and whether they had any previous criminal record,’ Marion explains. ‘Ecuador is one of the first countries ever to make a move like this… the government is actually being quite pioneering. Despite all the criticism they’ve received from some members of the public for focusing so much time and investment on people in prison, when one could argue the country has many other pressing needs.’ She pauses to sip from her tea. ‘But we at Alma Libre think it’s a very positive step.’

      ‘There is a strict table of sentence lengths, crossed by quantity of drugs,’ explains Roberto. ‘And it’s retroactive, meaning many people’s sentences will be reduced by over half, practically overnight. And of course, if they’ve already served that time or more, they will go free immediately.’

      I sit in silence for a moment, absorbing the enormity of what the Ecuadorian government has undertaken. It seems to be well intentioned, but how on earth they’ll pull it off I don’t know.

      Marion seems to read my mind. ‘There are over five thousand people in prison for drugs in Ecuador,’ she tells me. ‘It’s pandemonium.’

      ‘What about the British woman?’ I ask. ‘How long has she been here?’

      ‘Oh, dear Naomi. She’s on her sixth year now. She has three to go, but she’s holding out all her hope they will reduce her sentence.’

      ‘And how old is she?’ For some reason I’m imagining a lonely older woman, some kind of desperate-housewife scenario.

      Naomi? Oh, she was so young when she got arrested,’ Marion says sadly. ‘How old would she be now… early thirties, I guess, at most.’