Tijuana – Mexico.
Just over the US-border.
Every day, thousands of people make their
way over to the other side.
Amongst them: Illegal immigrants, hard-partying
tourists from the US, and traffickers.
This strip of border is under close surveillance.
Weapons go to Mexico, drugs to the US – a
battle that rages on with no end in sight,
regardless of how tall the fence is.
Thousands of people have already paid – with
their lives.
All of these factors make Tijuana one of the
most extreme cities in the world.
Poverty, slums, and drug abuse on one side.
And on the other?
Mexico’s biggest den of prostitution and
excess.
It’s a place where the parties get wilder
and wilder and never seem to stop.
And yet: Anyone who commits a crime in Tijuana
will soon find themselves here.
La Mesa!
A prison that strikes more than fear into
Mexicans...
[Voiceover]: Everything is dirty; just sitting
on the toilet is horrendous.
…and one where Americans feel like scum!
I mean, I am a United States marine.
Over there, I am a hero, over here I am a
villain.
A self-contained empire.
Governed by ONE man.
Who rules with an iron fist.
[Voiceover]: “I am very proud.
This prison used to be notorious.”
A jail that houses cold-blooded killers.
[Voiceover]: I killed multiple police officers,
including a high-ranking commander.
It was obvious that they would have it in
for me.
Fighting back leads to harsh punishments.
[Voiceover]: They just leave us to rot away
in here and lock the doors.
The inmates?
Known for having short fuses.
La Mesas’ history is peppered with riots
and rebellions.
And a high death toll.
No narration
The next rebellion is a constant threat.
Keeping things under control is a potentially
deadly battle.
In one of the toughest prisons in the world.
No narration
Six thirty in the morning.
A new shift is about to start at one of Mexico’s
most notorious prisons, located in the heart
of downtown Tijuana.
Commanding officer Mario Antonio Meza Flores
arrives.
He’s responsible for security inside the
jail.
And he’s constantly in danger.
Apart from the Mexican police and justice,
Tijuana is governed by one thing above anything
else: Drug cartels.
Attract their attention and you won’t be
around for long.
The morning security routine.
Regardless of whether you’re a guard or
the commander-in-chief, everyone has to undergo
the checks.
Metal detector, security scan, and a physical
search.
There’s no getting out of it.
Drugs, weapons, and even cigarettes are all
banned from La Mesa.
At seven, the guards start to get ready for
duty.
Their job?
To keep the three thousand or so inmates under
control.
This involves patrolling the prison and raiding
cells.
Block by block, the commander’s troops tear
the cells apart in a never-ending cycle.
[Voiceover]: We’re mainly looking for weapons
and substances like drugs and tobacco.
First things first: The morning briefing.
The guards are equipped with handcuffs, batons,
and tear gas.
No narration
Their destination?
The cell blocks.
La Mesa separates its prisoners according
to crime, risk profile, age, and gender.
Building one is home to drug traffickers,
thieves, and those convicted of violent crimes.
In section two, there are kidnappers and murderers
with a low risk potential.
Three and four house small-scale criminals,
prison workers, and the elderly.
Locked away in section five?
Sex offenders and the sick.
Ranging from diabetes to HIV.
They all share a central area.
Block number 6 is completely cut off from
the rest of the prison.
This wing is home to the toughest of all the
inmates: Cartel killers and serial murderers.
And then there’s a whole separate block
for women.
Commander Flores starts his inspection in
block number one.
Every day, up to 20 new prisoners wind up
here.
Flores’ goal is to determine what the mood
is like here.
Are the inmates acting up at the moment?
Are there any gangs forming inside the cells?
And: Where should he start the next raid?
No narration
For committing crimes like theft, mugging,
possession of a weapon, and drug trafficking,
each cell in block one at La Mesa holds an
average of eight to ten criminals.
They share an area of just four by four-and-a-half
meters.
Inmates have few belongings: mainly a few
pieces of clothing, towels, and small souvenirs
from the world outside.
All stripped back to the bare essentials.
No narration
One of the inmates: Abraham Chaves Orozco.
At the age of 22, he is one of the youngest
in La Mesa.
Arrested at the airport for drug trafficking,
he was sentenced to five years.
He’s already done three.
That means three years of sleeping, showering,
going to the toilet – without a single ounce
of privacy.
[Voiceover]: Everything is dirty; just sitting
on the toilet is horrendous.
I’ve had a foot infection in the past...
The food is bad and unhygienic...
And it’s freaking hot...
Abraham’s family have long been trying to
get him relocated to another prison.
Though to no avail so far.
But he’s still hopeful.
Many other inmates have lost all sense of
hope.
Particularly the prison’s American residents.
Such as Taylor Elliott Howard.
After all, US citizens have to remember that
getting in trouble with the law in Tijuana
– just a stone’s throw from home – will
land them HERE.
Taylor shares his cell with six other Americans.
They are kept separate from the others.
The risk of altercations with other inmates
is too high.
I have been accused of stealing a car.
Armed robbery of a car.
So, they said I had two guns, an AR-15 and
a 9-millimeter.
So they gave me nine years for that.
Nine years in La Mesa – penned up in one
of the toughest prisons in the world.
This is my bed, this is where I sleep right
here.
This is where Shawn sleeps, this is Troy right
here.
Over here on the top we got Brandon, we got
Dakota, we got Ty.
And Mike sleeps right here.
This is the bathroom.
The sink, where we wash our hands, the toilet
over here.
Right now, as you can see, the water is off,
and it comes on only for a few hours a day.
The misuse here is terrible.
The living conditions here are terrible.
I am a combat veteran, I am a United States
marine, I served in the Iraqi war.
I am decorated.
Over there I am a hero, over here I am a villain.
I can’t even make a phone call to my family
to let them know where I am.
But the worst thing isn’t the cell itself.
Even worse is the fact that the inmates are
almost never allowed out.
We only get two hours of sun a week.
If that – sometimes they cut it short, or
sometimes somebody will do something stupid
on the yard and get the yard messed up for
the rest of us.
So we get like half an hour, an hour if somebody
messes up.
Other than that we are stuck in here 24 hours
a day.
6 days a week
In La Mesa, exercise and fresh air are a luxury.
Regardless of whether you’re a car thief,
drug dealer, child abuser, or cartel killer.
The only glimpse any of them get of the sun
tends to be through bars.
They spend almost their entire sentence in
their cells.
This means two square meters for each inmate.
Some for just a few years.
Others for the rest of their lives, no doubt
about it.
Locked away on an almost permanent basis without
any privacy.
In a prison with an iron-clad set of rules.
Rules laid out by ONE man.
HE has had the first and last word on what
goes on at La Mesa since 2014.
Director Cesar Daniel Ramirez Acevedo.
[Voiceover]:
Mr. Director, sir, I am reporting for duty.
There are just a few small abnormalities,
everything is in order.
[Voiceover]: “OK, that’s good to know.”
Every day, Acevedo checks whether his prison
is still under control.
And tries to isolate problem cases as early
as possible.
Before La Mesa, Acevedo had already held the
post of director at five other Mexican prisons.
Now he’s in the heart of Tijuana.
A city where drug cartels battle it out for
total domination – and where 85 percent
of all murders are related to narcotics.
Acevedo rules with the principle of 100% control.
No matter what’s going on in his jail, Director
Acevedo knows about it.
The first inmates are allowed outside early
in the morning.
A moment that puts all of the wardens on high
alert.
After all, the chance of an attack on the
guards – perhaps using a homemade weapon
– is never higher than at this moment.
No narration
The routine is always the same.
Between Monday and Thursday, the guards open
up very specific cells.
On a certain floor of a specific building.
The same cells at the same time every week.
And only one at a time.
The next group cannot be released until all
of the inmates are in the stairway.
This is how the guards keep the upper hand.
For most inmates, this precise moment offers
them the only two hours of direct sunlight
they get each week.
The prisoners are separated over three different
courtyards.
Thanks to all these measures, inmates can
only ever come into contact with just a few
dozen others during their time in prison.
Regardless of how long they may have been
in there.
This is how La Mesa’s Director Acevedo keeps
the risk of illegal trading, fights, and weapon
or drug dealing to a minimum.
[Voiceover]: Nowadays, we have a huge number
of rules to increase security.
They enable us to keep perfect control.
These rules didn’t exist in the past; we
had a lot more yard time but without the proper
supervision.
Back then, a different government was ruling
Mexico and we had a lot more problems with
gang warfare.
At La Mesa, the guards have lost their fight
against the inmates on more than one occasion.
With fatal consequences.
It happened in 2008.
Two riots occurred within the space of one
month.
The first riot saw four inmates lose their
lives.
To punish the prisoners, water and food were
rationed.
This then led to a second rebellion.
And days of fighting.
The prisoners’ families started to get desperate.
No narration
Eventually, the police stormed the prison.
And the outcome?
12 severely injured and 21 dead.
A catastrophe.
One that should never happen again.
These days, the “external security” team
at La Mesa make sure – even if another riot
does occur – nobody manages to escape.
Guards protect the outer wall.
In the center of a Mexican city that is home
to millions.
An additional safety measure: Highly trained
attack dogs in no-man’s land.
Should worse come to worst, the guards are
equipped with both firearms and grenades.
What’s more, La Mesa places its most dangerous
inmates in strict isolation – in their own
separate block.
Commander Flores continues his hunt for rioters
in section 6.
This part of the prison operates on a more
or less stand-alone basis.
About 450 prisoners are housed in this section
alone.
The difference?
They are all ringleaders.
And they work in organized cartel structures.
Their risk potential?
Extremely high.
[Voiceover]:
How’s it going, everything OK?
[Voiceover]:
Yes, all good so far.
Francisco Javier Villa Padilla – one of
the most notorious cartel killers around.
Sentenced for killing a police officer!
Other cases will follow.
[Voiceover]:
Because of my crimes, the military tortured
me to begin with.
They hit me, kicked me, held my head under
water, put a plastic bag over my head.
They did it all.
I killed multiple police officers, including
a high-ranking commander.
It was obvious that they would have it in
for me.
In May 2011, Francisco not only killed several
police officers; he also hung their bodies
from a bridge.
A pretty brutal way of asserting your power.
Back then, Francisco was working as a hit
man for the Sinaloa cartel, infamous for its
drug dealing, money laundering, and human
trafficking.
It is regarded as the most powerful cartel
in Mexico.
He was caught just a few days later – along
with three other gang members.
When he was arrested, police officers recovered
five weapons, 174 rounds of ammunition and
51 bags of crystal meth, among other things.
[Voiceover]:
I used to have an amazing life, with my family,
my kids, my wife, a girlfriend.
And I had plenty of money, things were good.
I didn’t know what it was like to go hungry
as I could always afford to buy everything.
Here in prison, you don’t tend to get enough
and it’s usually awful.
Catering in La Mesa is dealt with by staff
and the one hundred or so inmates with short
sentences and a low risk profile.
They are the few permitted to leave their
cell for an extended period outside of yard
and visiting time.
This scheme even allows inmates to reduce
their sentence.
Two days of work takes one day off their time
in prison.
Maximum security also applies when the food
is delivered.
Every day, the guards check the food and staff
for smuggled goods.
The prisoners prepare a good three thousand
meals, three times a day.
They also distribute the 20 or so liters of
water per cell.
There is no canteen.
Food is delivered straight to the cells – by
the prisoners themselves.
This is yet another measure that keeps contact
between guards and those inside the cells
to an absolute minimum.
The main aim is to keep them in there as long
as possible.
No narration
Strictly isolated from any form of contact:
This is a problem that the American inmates
in block one are also all too familiar with.
Even if they do manage to come face-to-face
with a guard...
Almost no-one in the prison speaks English.
They can do nothing but wait.
No narration
Pretty much what they try to do here is: they
lock you up and throw away the key.
Most of us don’t speak Spanish.
They don’t understand any English, they
don’t have any interpreters or anything
like that.
So, as far as us, we are in trouble.
There is no hope out there really.
Almost no communication.
And only the bare essentials needed to survive.
However, even that isn’t the American inmates’
biggest fear.
Since I have been here, from the conditions
and the medical conditions here, there’s
been nine people on this tier who just died
from being sick and stuff like that.
That’s not including the whole jail, just
the people on this tier, on this floor right
here.
From the living conditions, from getting sick
and getting no medical attention.
Taylor hopes to survive his time in La Mesa
– one of the world’s toughest prisons
– unscathed.
He is putting his trust mainly in God.
Night falls over Tijuana.
While the Mexican city begins to buzz with
a mix of cartel wars, drug traffickers, and
Americans tourists looking to party, nighttime
means one thing for the prisoners in La Mesa:
TV, electricity, and lights off.
[Voiceover]: Turn the lights and the TV off,
time to sleep.
No narration
The next morning.
It’s the weekend.
Visiting time.
Around five hundred relatives flock to the
prison.
Only those related by blood are permitted
entry.
They bring clothes, hygiene products and money
to pay in for the inmates.
Like Abraham’s mother Erika.
She lives a few hours away.
She only manages to visit her son every few
weeks or so.
She knows that a visit from his family is
one of the very few chances her son gets to
leave his cell outside of yard time.
No narration
Erika has been trying to get her son relocated
for a long time.
To a prison where the conditions are a little
less tough.
Closer to his family.
[Voiceover]: I want my son to get out more.
More yard time, more activities he can get
involved in.
At the moment, he is cooped up with the other
inmates way too much.
We are waiting for the process to get underway.
It started a while back and now we need to
be patient and wait for things to move forward.
Neither of the pair know if and when her application
will be approved.
Until then, all they can do is keep persevering.
Not long later and visiting hours are already
over.
Under Director Acevedo’s rules, they are
restricted to just a few hours.
Security comes first for him.
Relatives repeatedly try to smuggle drugs,
tobacco or even just pens into the prison.
[Voiceover]:
“When I think about where I work, the first
thing that comes to mind is that it is a huge
challenge.
It’s definitely very challenging.”
Absolute control.
Tiny cells.
Constant vigilance.
All tools that the prison director uses to
attempt one thing above all else: preventing
another riot.
And although the prisoners aren’t allowed
out of their cells, they still train every
day, particularly the inmates in high-security
block 6.
Seemingly ready for battle.
To do this, they go as far as creating a clear
cell schedule.
Two inmates at a time are allowed to use the
few spare square meters to keep fit.
Until the next time they are let out.
And the prisoners here are subjected to even
tougher conditions than the others.
Apart from opening cell after cell, this means
one thing above all else: More guards.
And a physical search of every single inmate
to avoid smuggled weapons and, att all cost,
stabbings, gang warfare, and death.
After all, inmates from the various drug cartels
come into direct contact with one another
in the yard.
They only see each other for two hours a week.
And yet, if they were out on the streets,
there’s no doubt they would be trying to
kill each other.
No narration
Even the guards don’t enter the yard in
section 6.
No narration
For the inmates, their two hours in the yard
means mainly one thing: their only chance
to contact the outside world.
This wasn’t always the case.
Up until 2002, La Mesa was a completely different
prison.
One with hardly any guards.
One where any inmate inside its walls could
do whatever he wanted.
It was known as: “El Pueblito – The little
village.”
A prison town with its own rules and laws.
Back then, La Mesa was ruled by the country’s
most notorious drug barons.
[Voiceover]: We used to have everything, shops,
restaurants, etc.
But there was also a huge difference between
those who had money and those who didn’t.
I did well.
I worked as a bodyguard for an important inmate.
Even though I was constantly on the lookout
for people breathing down my neck, I was alright.
All that is from a time that now only the
oldest inmates are able to remember.
Like one particular inmate in section 7 – the
women’s block.
Dolores Sanchez has been here since 1999.
Her sentence?
34 years!
For kidnapping.
[Voiceover]: We used to be able to just open
our cells and go wherever we wanted; we were
free.
However, other things are better nowadays.
There are no drugs, no alcohol, and no corruption
any more.
So, it’s safer and more structured now.
These days, Dolores acts as a nurse and is
permitted to issue medicines, like insulin
and anti-depressants, to those suffering in
the women’s block.
And this gives her just that little bit more
freedom than most of the other inmates.
However, Dolores still remembers when she
led a completely different life behind bars.
One with an income.
Along with fast-food restaurants, launderettes,
and night clubs.
But also a whole lot of drug dealing and violence.
After being built in 1956, it took the government
until 2002 to raze the “old” La Mesa to
the ground.
The prison was then restructured.
Even now, Dolores isn’t sure which of these
two worlds is better and which one is tougher.
[Voiceover]: In those days, there were no
rules.
No-one said, “you can’t assault anyone,”
“you can’t take drugs or alcohol,” “you
can’t prostitute yourself” or anything
like that.
The prison management only cared about making
sure no-one escaped, that was it.
We used to have computers, we had restaurants,
we all had good money.
Now, there is none of that, no cash.
These days, La Mesa at least has shops.
The prison sells instant soups, snacks, and
soft drinks in each of the five yards.
They also sell really basic items like toilet
paper – things prisoners need to buy themselves.
And luxury goods, such as hair dye.
The sales clerks are inmates like Gisell Vargos
Guerrero – sentenced to almost seven years
for possession of a weapon.
Inmates pay using their fingerprints.
Everything is completely electronic.
The prison is a kind-of bank.
This enables it to control who owns what.
And it can even freeze your account.
[Voiceover]:
Then you can only buy the essentials.
No cookies, for instance, nothing special.
What is sanctioned.
Always in high demand: Fresh food.
For the more affluent inmates.
Prepared in the men’s prison kitchen.
And during delivery, an important rule applies:
strict separation of the sexes.
Men and women are banned from any contact
in La Mesa.
The workers hold full responsibility for the
quality and quantity.
[Voiceover]:
“I am making sure the quality is OK and
checking if there is the right number of sandwiches.
Should any of the items go missing, Gisell
risks facing the worst punishment of them
all: Banishment to a place where no-one in
the whole of La Mesa wants to end up.
[Voiceover]:
The punishment would be the isolation cell.
They would cut your yard time and you wouldn’t
be able to call your family anymore.
And a stay in isolation means a whole lot
more than just solitary confinement in La
Mesa.
It’s a punishment that all inmates fear.
While on the hunt for the next riot, Commander
Flores arrives at a place that not even the
guards like to visit.
One of the prison’s isolation cells.
No narration
Fighting, weapons, drugs.
Anyone who breaks the prison’s rules winds
up here.
And that means even less sunlight.
No electricity.
Locked away, inmates vegetate in isolation
for days on end.
The cells are dominated by sweat, stagnant
air, and an ever-increasing amount of mold
on the walls.
Inmates here even have to go without toilet
paper.
They can’t be sure when they’ll be allowed
out.
[Voiceover]:
The overall situation here is just a huge
problem.
It’s unbelievably hot, all you can do is
sit or stand up for a short amount of time.
We’re in total isolation without any air
supply, apart from one small fan.
They just leave us to rot away in here and
shut the doors.
The other problem is the water.
There isn’t running water from the tap every
day.
Today there is, but it’s not always the
case.
There isn’t enough to drink.
Locked away.
For weeks and months.
All the inmates can do is vegetate here.
Everyone in the isolation cell comes from
block 6.
The block for cartel killers and serial murderers.
And most of them are new arrivals.
Director Acevedo is here to check the risk
status.
After all, each one of these cells is home
to half a dozen alpha males or more.
Rivalries and fights to become top dog can
spring up at any time.
And this is exactly what the criminals have
been learning to deal with on the streets
of Tijuana for years.
[Voiceover]:
Tijuana is a city where a lot happens.
It’s also the city with the highest number
of border crossings in the world.
Because of that there is a lot of crime and
kidnapping here.
All problems that we need to sort out.
What goes on outside the prison is exactly
the same as what goes on inside the prison.
It’s just a mirror for this city.
Outside, gang members fight each other.
Inside, they have to live with their enemies.
Just like cartel hit man Francisco.
He shares a cell with members of other gangs.
He has gradually learned to accept this fact.
And he’s not sure if he ever wants to return
to his old life.
Be it then or now, he has come to realize
that he has spent a lot longer living an unfree
life than the seven years he has spent in
La Mesa.
[Voiceover]: I used to hunt people down to
kill them.
And for that reason, I was always in danger.
So, I wasn’t free on the outside either.
It was also like living in a kind of prison.
Francisco’s biggest worry?
He hasn’t heard anything from his family
for a long time.
The only person to sometimes visit him is
his mother.
Francisco believes that his kids are now criminals,
too – though he doesn’t know for sure.
[Voiceover]: I’m always thinking about my
kids, my sons.
I look at this photo every morning.
While all Francisco has left is his photo,
Abraham in cell block one is hanging on to
one thing above all else: Hope.
Finally being free.
The 22-year-old is waiting for news from his
mother about his upcoming move to a different
– more lenient – prison.
The American, Taylor, lost all feeling of
hope a long time ago.
He hasn’t spoken to his family for months.
That’s because inmates wanting to make a
phone call need the thing you need for everything
else here: Money.
It sucks, it sucks.
Everybody that I talk to here, that’s been
in jail in the States says, compared to this,
that America is like a hotel.
Jails there are like a hotel.
We used to have, for those phones over there,
they used to give us collect calls.
So we could call the States for free.
To talk to our families.
But now they got rid of our collect calls.
So now you have to buy phone cards, to be
able to make the calls, and like me, like
only one person in my cell gets money.
Everybody else… we don’t have family here.
We don’t have money, so we can’t even
talk to our families.
And because I don’t get a deposit, most
of the wallets, the bracelets that I make
and sell, I sell for hygiene stuff.
Toothpaste, toothbrush, soap.
Stuff like that.
Toilet paper.
Because they don’t supply none of that here.
Money in La Mesa is essential to survive.
There’s not any good news for Abraham.
No updates about his release.
He uses his remaining few minutes for a couple
more calls with his brothers and sisters.
[Voiceover]: These calls are important to
me.
There are some family members and friends
who I haven’t seen for 3 years.
Like my sisters, for example.
They are growing up.
That’s why I talk to them, to see how things
are going with them.
They need to know that I’m still their brother
and I’m looking out for them.
So now all the 22-year-old can do is wait
another week.
Until the Mexican justice system decides to
grant him more freedom.
Or not.
Taylor is enjoying the last few rays of sunshine
with his friends from the US.
And just keeps on holding out...
Nine years in this place?
Bad.
Really, really bad.
I mean…
I don’t even know.
I don’t know how I feel.
As of right now, I am just going with the
flow.
Like, you know, another day down, another
day down.
A few more to go, another day down.
Just going with it you know… not trying
to think about it too much, not trying to
stress on the situation.
Just go with it and hope it lets up.
Just go with it.
Taylor hopes that he might still get out early
for good behavior or on early release.
Free time is over after two hours.
It’s time for everyone to return to their
cells.
The fate awaiting most of the inmates: Nearly
another seven days behind bars.
To begin with, all the inmates from one cell
line up behind one another.
Then they leave the yard together, keeping
their distance from the next group.
Yard by yard.
It’s a method with a system behind it.
[Voiceover]:
We do it so that the first group finish up
their yard time first and come inside.
All the others have to wait during this process.
There are some inmates who have to be kept
apart at all costs.
They belong to different gangs.
From serial killer Francisco and drug trafficker
Abraham, to car thief Taylor – almost all
of the three thousand inmates eventually end
up behind bars again.
For Commander Mario Flores, it is the perfect
time to start his raid.
He suspects a certain cell of having home-made
weapons.
No narration
[Voiceover]:
We’re now going into cell 11/11.
One stays outside.
The rest of the inmates are kept under control.
The guards are mainly on the lookout for home-made
knives.
Made out of toothbrushes, wires and bits of
metal.
Anything the inmates could use to fight each
other – or attack the guards.
[Voiceover]:
Get down from the beds!
...On the floor....Everyone on the floor...Everyone
down, everyone on the floor!
Over to the side!
[Voiceover]:: Everyone face the wall.
[Voiceover]:
On the floor, face to the wall!
Then Commander Flores’ men scour the selected
cell.
First the guards lead the inmates out and
subject them to a thorough search.
Then the troop take apart every last centimeter
of the 18 square-meter cell.
Mattresses, shoes, magazines.
And more.
No narration
[Voiceover]:
Do you have the fan?
We need to open the fan!
So far, all they have are some home-made weights.
Probably harmless.
But when it comes to a fight, then they could
be a deadly weapon.
Now time for the fan...
[Voiceover]:
We found this heater inside, that’s home-made.
It might not be dangerous, but whatever.
Things like this are banned in prison.
[Voiceover]:
We usually find this type of thing.
Like this thing here.
The prisoners made this out of a toothbrush
and a piece of metal.
The outcome of the raid?
One pen plus a small knife and a heater for
getting hot water in the cell.
Both are home-made from bits of metal, a toothbrush
or some wires from an old fan.
It’s all reasonably harmless.
No narration
The punishment for this cell’s inhabitants
will be decided by the prison commission over
the next few days.
Now we got to fix everything.
The prisoners are likely to only get a warning.
Or have their TV or yard time taken away.
In the worst-case scenario, they could also
end up in isolation.
Yet another day is coming to an end at La
Mesa.
Another day that 22-year-old convicted drug
smuggler Abraham spent hoping that he will
soon be out of here.
[Voiceover]: I hope to either be relocated
or maybe even released some time soon.
I’ve noticed that people who have already
been here for three years behave differently.
They are angrier, more impatient, they’re
in a bad mood all the time.
And the Americans are trying not to back down...
particularly Taylor
You don’t want to let this place change
you.
You don’t want it because it’s a shithole.
You don’t want to let it change you.
You gotta keep yourself strong.
Like… you know what I mean?
Giselle – convicted for possession of a
weapon – is due to be released in a few
months.
And she’s already planning her life.
[Voiceover]: I want to start over.
And have a career as a real doctor.
I just want to start over and never look back.”
Dolores on the other hand has another fifteen
years left behind bars.
She will be in her mid-50s by the time she
gets out.
[Voiceover]: When I get out of here, I need
to start with coming to grips with the new
technology.
So much has changed.
And people have changed, too!
The whole of society is different.
And hit man Francisco isn’t really sure
if he ever really wants to be free again.
[Voiceover]:
The other people I used to work with...
They were all killed within three months of
being released.
They are all dead.
Director Acevedo has managed to keep La Mesa
under control for another day.
A prison in the heart of Tijuana.
For a long time, a prison ruled by pure anarchy.
And a prison, where many people lost their
lives in riots.
A prison with cast-iron rules.
Minimal freedom.
And maximum surveillance.
No narration
[Voiceover]:
“I am very proud.
This prison used to be notorious for its chaos.
It was called “the little village.”
And for good reason!
It had all the qualities of a normal village.
But it was not an effective prison.
Now we have everything under control, there
is security for the inmates and for us.”
When it was known as the “little village”,
the prisoners held the real power behind these
walls –A place full of drugs, prostitutes,
and violence.
Director Acevedo is keen to make sure that
nothing like this ever happens in La Mesa
again.
In one of the toughest prisons in the world.
