Original subtitles

A NETFLIX SERIES

There is continued tension

in the vicinity of the Puente Viejo prison.

Things turned even more violent yesterday,

and the police partially thwarted an unbelievable escape.

So… we go our separate ways, like you said.

Calm down, I'm unarmed! I don't have anything!

Emma!

Inside the prison,

an investigation has been opened

to determine the cause of death of a number of inmates and guards.

You shall be removed.

Outside the prison, the authorities are engaged in a manhunt

for Juan Pablo Borges.

I'm your dad.

You ruined my life, you son of a bitch! I'm gonna kill you!

This dangerous criminal was doing time in Puente Viejo

with his brother and other members of the Borges gang.

Fuck you!

You son of a bitch!

INCOMING CALL UNKNOWN NUMBER

Hello?

Is that you?

Diosito? Where are you? I'll come get you.

Hello?

I know everything, Gladys.

Mario told me.

It's time for me to go on my own and find myself.

'Cause now I have no damn clue who I am.

Did you know my mom, Gladys?

Why'd you all lie to me?

What'd I do to you?

Tell me where you are, babe.

I'll come help you. Then we'll talk. Please tell me where you are.

No.

No, it's over.

I'm on my own now.

Don't hang up, honey!

Honey, don't--

Don't fucking hang up on me!

MECHANIC

FUCK THE POLICE

Don't you fucking move!

Stop, bro! Mopey!

It's me!

It's me, Diosito.

Easy.

It's me.

I fucked everything up.

Yeah, I know.

If only you had better aim, asshole…

-You made the breaded cutlet? -You bet.

-Yeah? -Yeah!

All right, Mopey.

-I learned. -I can see that.

I'll have seconds.

There's no more.

No?

In the end, you did the right thing, Mopey.

Only you got out.

Since the rest sucked up to Marito, they're inside.

So what's the deal?

I mean, what's your plan?

You can stay here a few days, but…

Yeah, I know. Don't sweat it.

I won't move in.

But I could… No, don't worry.

I'll leave.

I'm going… north. To the border, I guess. I'll figure it out.

I got a delivery in a few days.

-Oh yeah? -To some town.

Folks there could help you out.

That'd be great.

Yeah, good idea.

Can you push it up?

I'll make some calls.

Well, do that.

I will.

Do it.

I will.

Do it.

Do it now.

Hold up, Mopey.

Not a word to anyone.

No.

Don't sweat it.

THREE YEARS LATER

In prison, bodies lose their value.

They're punished daily.

The people in control are well aware true punishment isn't physical.

It's in one's soul.

We can only be truly free in our heads.

Not in our bodies.

We can be free in here.

We can travel.

We can be close to our loved ones.

That's why they control us,

driving us crazy.

Poisoning us.

This place is full of heroes.

They get out of bed in the morning and fight.

Every day.

Despite the mistreatment,

humiliation,

torture,

they fight.

They give it their all inside these four walls.

And they…

they're heard on the day of final judgment.

At sentencing.

They have a voice then.

And all that they're asked to do

is express remorse.

Apologize.

In here, we see how so-called "justice" slowly slips away.

We're the reflection of a ferocious and unequal society.

Examples are grown here.

-Great. Go in. -Examples of terror.

-Next? -Yes.

Of fear, cowardice…

-Hi. ID? -Yes, of course.

We're animals chosen for sacrifice.

We're marked.

We can only resist.

EL MUNDO INTERNATIONAL PRESS

Brace our backs for the blow.

-Head in but leave your bag. -Well…

The blow from one that's also beaten.

…take some notes, record with my phone.

In the end,

the miserable prison guards are victims of subjugation as well.

Fine, but I still need your bag.

It's a chain. The weak oppress those that are even weaker.

Can I take the book?

That's how confinement allows for bodies to be enslaved.

Tortured.

Sign here.

Colonized.

That's how it furthers the key goal of prison.

Next!

Cramming us together behind these walls so we become incurable monsters.

First of all, thank you for the interview.

Why'd you decline for so long?

Doesn't matter.

I'll quote you from your book. You write,

"I stand by everything I said." "I'm telling my own story,

but it speaks for an anonymous group, silenced by the system."

Is that right?

Yes, it is.

Talk to anyone here. They all have a story.

You'll see the same common denominator.

Marginality, poverty, and the epitome of injustice.

Why'd you decide to write the book?

It started as my need for self-expression.

Articulating what happened was a relief from my suffering.

After I tried to escape from here, they sent me to a max security prison

and completely isolated me.

I was like a zombie.

Emma!

The first year, I only saw the guy that brought me food.

He wouldn't speak.

Emma!

Once a week, I could go out and walk around a yard for an hour.

I was stuck inside the rest of the time.

Emma!

Emma!

I'd appreciate it if you brought me a pencil…

I had lots of voices in my head and had to put them somewhere.

Later, they let me have a notebook, and that's when it really started.

EL MARGINAL MIGUEL PALACIOS

The book was a hit. Any author would envy you.

The media picked it up.

Then there are everyday people, the ones that get up in the morning

to go to work, earn a living. They think you guys make easy money.

Fast money.

What do you mean by "you guys"?

Oh, come on!

The criminals here, in prison.

They're here for a reason.

You know, I don't understand the empathy

that you say we should feel towards thieves, rapists, murderers,

and people that commit property crimes, among many other things.

-You're mixing two separate things. -Am I?

Yes. On the one hand, there's the justice system.

A poor guy's guilty until proven innocent.

Then there's here. People in power use our bodies for whatever they want.

All kinds of torture, punishment, discipline.

And, clearly, the government promotes violence among inmates.

The courts only act when it spills onto the streets.

The courts work with the resources at hand, right?

The resources are slim. They do their best.

If you visit the courts, you'll see

the neglect suffered by prisoners and their families isn't about resources.

More than anything, it's about lower-class stigma,

driven by manipulation by most media outlets.

But still, I'm really struggling to see criminals as victims,

like you say.

You know how many guys in here come from families

with histories of addiction, violence, alcohol?

Are you saying you're all here 'cause you're poor, not criminals?

Sorry, but I know plenty of poor people that work and lead exemplary lives.

True. However, a poor person commits a crime, and they go to prison.

Unlike in other social classes, where people are forgiven, taught,

given other opportunities.

What do your fellow inmates, the criminals, think of the book?

That depends. There are really nasty people here.

Abusers who subjugate other inmates, live off of them. That's also true.

But I'd say they're generally appreciative.

Men and women in other prisons write me, tell me their stories.

I give them a voice on the air, so they don't stay anonymous.

But, above all, so they stop feeling like monsters.

Has that changed your life here?

I need to watch my back a little more than before.

All right, then. One last question.

You dedicated the book to your former girlfriend and your son.

Do you talk to him at all?

The whole thing must've been pretty traumatic.

Emma! She's dying, man! Do something!

Emma!

Emma!

Yes, my son is the only reason I keep on living.

The only thing I really care about.

All right. Thank you very much.

My pleasure.

Look at these handsome boys!

-Hey, boys. -Hey, gorgeous.

How are you, Lu?

Fine, you?

Okay, here you go.

Let's have a look at you, my boys.

If you eat nice and fast,

Mami will cut your hair for free.

What you got for me, Luli?

Know what I have for you, babe?

-What, gorgeous? -A big, juicy pickle.

Love it.

Maybe you could feed us girls later. We're starving.

You dirty girl.

Handsome!

Disabled people are so sexy.

It was a mess, man. A disaster.

We're like, "This is our shot." We turn around and cut him off.

Tubby gets out, and the punk in the other car pulls out a gun.

There was no way we could run.

So Tubby is coming back to our car and takes three in the back.

All right, shit birds. Beat it.

-Don't touch me, asshole! -Move it!

-Easy. -You're a fat fuck.

-So are you, Capece. -Move.

What's with you?

Is your ass glued down?

Enough is enough.

This has to stop.

Orders from up top, shithead. Deal with it. Move.

You're gonna have quite the mess on your hands.

Man, those guys smell like shit!

Those motherfuckers never shower. Capece, know what you need to do?

Drag all those punks to the yard,

line 'em up,

and hose 'em down for an hour and a half, two at least.

Don't start shit, Borges. The boss doesn't want any trouble. Got it?

Mario can't eat this. He eats squash, veggies, and chicken.

Where's my food?

Excuse me.

These guys are gonna eat that, and I have to eat this shit?

Hospital food?

This guy's here to thank you for the other day.

The other day?

Come here, asshole. Stealing people's visiting hours?

Come here, you piece of shit.

Gimme that, you botched abortion.

Son of a bitch.

You're not ashamed of yourself, charging for visits?

Chacal, Patón.

-Take him to Medellín. -Take him away.

Move it!

Those sons of bitches, thinking they were clever!

Did they get that the Borges family runs everything in here?

Oh, they got it.

We gave 'em a spa day.

Good work.

-Borges? -Yes?

This is from my wife.

That was the first time she came to see me

with the kids

and didn't have to pay. So, this is a gift.

Thanks so much! You didn't have to go through the trouble.

We're just providing a service to the prison community.

Now, next time,

tell your wife I prefer the lemon ones.

Thank you.

And some sweet potato pastries for me?

They gotta be made of quince paste, dumbass. Don't bring him anything.

Go. Thank you.

Go eat.

Who wants more?

More? This shit is awful. It's disgusting.

If you don't like it, book a table somewhere else.

-Suck my dick, asshole! -What's your problem?

What's that in there?

-A rat! -No!

The rats are rioting.

What the hell's going on?

No…

You motherfucker!

Take 'em all away!

Step on it!

You dirty cripple!

Stop, man!

Hit the brakes, man! Help!

Please, I don't know what to do. They cut me off.

They were booking it. There was nothing I could do.

-I don't know if they're breathing or not. -Did you call 911?

No. We should call, though,

because they could be in danger or dead. Who knows?

Game over, man.

You lose.

Son of a bitch!

Sure, whatever you say. Come on, move. Yuli!

Take his phone.

Come on.

Stop.

You fell for it!

Okay, run!

Go on!

Run, motherfucker!

Say hi to the cows for the last time!

I said, "Run!"

Go, move it!

Okay, guys. Let's see what he's got back here.

Just a bunch of sheep.

But that'll work too.

Lamb will do just fine.

Wait, lamb and sheep are the same thing?

Technology is wild.

With this new wiring, we now have 518 working cameras in Puente Viejo.

We can see their ass hair when they shit.

And we'll save money with fewer guards watching more prisoners.

We'll increase prison capacity by 23.5%.

Know what that's called? "Productivity to the max."

Who did it?

I did. Sergio Antín.

Sounds great. However, the cellblocks don't control themselves.

No.

What a mess! Did you forget to wear your bib?

Fucking slumdogs. I had to step in. Look what happened.

We're spread thin, Antín. Spread thin.

If you wanna keep getting your monthly bonus,

you gotta make do.

Period.

Even that isn't enough. Look at what they did.

If you want, I can demote you, give you a new uniform.

You can get down on all fours to scrub the floors in Puente Viejo.

And stick the brush all the way up your ass. No lube.

-Sorry, Sergio… -"Sorry"? Knock first.

You messing with me? What?

-Borges is waiting for you out here. -Let him in.

Are the techs done?

Yeah, they're done.

This way, please.

Aren't you two an item?

Come on, fatty! I'm waiting.

Capece says you're not holding up your end of the bargain.

Look, Antín.

If you want a peaceful joint,

get rid of those Sub-21 pricks.

And put a wig on this jackass. No one takes him seriously.

Look at the cyclops, laughing at the bald guy.

Go get changed.

Have a seat.

Sit.

Go on.

Tell me. How are the numbers?

The numbers are fine. They're fine.

"Fine"? Give me numbers.

According to the numbers, you, me, your wife, and my wife

can all retire tomorrow. And so can that dumbass.

No, I disagree.

Nobody's retiring.

You're working with me and need to see it through.

I'm tired, Antín.

I told you I'm tired.

What a pain in the ass.

You'll keep getting paid.

Don't worry.

You can trust the Colombian, and this guy, Bardo, he hasn't fucked me over yet.

I don't trust the Colombian, Bardo, or the tranny.

And I'm pro-trannies.

I'm a champion for trannies.

I'm the trannies' Eva Perón.

"Trans woman." Get it right.

-You're full of shit! -Unfortunately!

Unfortunately, I am, thanks to the chicken I eat every day.

It's stopping me up, man.

The food was damn good in San Onofre!

Wasn't life swell there?

Remember, my friend? Want a whiskey?

Of course.

You son of a bitch.

-Gimme a whiskey! -You prick.

The only joy I'll get in here!

-I wanna watch you drink it. -Yes, sir.

To your wife's health.

Cheers. To yours.

We're almost there.

How'd it go, babe?

-All good, Ma. -Went great, Martita.

Look at them.

The real Lamb of God. Here it is.

Look at this white one. I'll make a scarf with it.

All good, son?

Get out. Come on girls. We're here.

Take them to the pen.

-To the pen? Okay. -Yes, the pen.

You got it. Okay, farmhands. Get to work.

Get to work, you peons!

-What'd you say? -Peons.

-"Peons"? -You like that?

-Come, gimme a kiss. -Stop.

Let go!

Gimme a kiss.

Stop…

Stop!

Come here.

Martita, you get me so damn hard.

Take a look at those tits!

-Get over here! -No, you come here!

Look at these tits, babe!

You like that.

It's going in.

Keep going!

That's right!

-You fucking idiot. -Yeah…

Get your asshole ready. I'm gonna rip it open.

Less talking, more playing, man.

There once was a man from China. He saw your sister's vagina.

If she were thinner, he'd take her to dinner at the diner.

What the fuck?!

Raise.

-I'll re-raise. -So will I.

Oh yeah? Okay, man. Take that!

You trumped me!

I'll trump you… And trump this if you wanna win.

Son of a bitch!

He fell asleep, sitting there.

Like Grandpa under his willow tree.

Borges is getting old.

Think about it. One year in here is like ten out there.

Sure, dress it up however you want,

but I don't think he's got much left in the tank.

What?

It's true. Who keeps things running now?

Who keeps the gang together?

You and me.

Right?

Your silence speaks volumes.

This is Borges's gang. Don't forget that.

Borges's gang? Diosito split. This Borges is all banged up…

Say what you want.

We don't forgive traitors, asshole.

Don't get it twisted. I'm not talking about betrayal.

I'm looking past all this. Get it? The future.

Yours and mine. Open your mind, Colombia.

Stop yapping, you bitches.

Get to work!

What's with all the chitchat?

I dreamt I was dancing with Isabel Sarli!

And I wake up to these two dipshits.

-Goddamn it! -My bad, Borges. Sorry.

Where you goin', man?

You don't think I can handle you?

Handle my dick.

-You don't think I can take you? -No way.

Say it to my face, dumbass.

Good job.

Look who it is!

Come here.

-Thanks for coming. -Sup?

-Thanks. -All good?

Get the guest a drink. Don't be rude.

-My man. -Hey.

-Well? -All good.

Really happy.

Congrats, man.

Yeah…

I still can't believe I'm getting out of this filthy tomb.

-Here you go, sir. -Cheers.

Cheers.

-I owe it all to you. -Don't be modest.

-Yeah. -It was all you. It's a big deal.

For the boys, I mean.

I don't remember what it's like outside.

I can't wait to go to a game!

Take it easy. Just make sure you don't come back.

-That's all. -Right.

The guy that called the radio, this is the address of his boarding house.

He'll take you in.

But don't stay for long.

Think of it as temporary,

until you get adjusted.

Call me. Write me.

-You're the best, man. -I'll fucking miss you.

Me too, asshole.

Come on! This is a goodbye party!

Hold on. Who grabbed my ass? Was it you?

What's your deal? You've been a ghost.

I'm doing my thing.

What do you think about all this?

Good for him.

He deserves it.

All thanks to us, right?

No one makes it out alone.

Looks like you're the only one that can survive alone.

Now that you're a writer,

get letters…

Speaking of letters, how's the pen pal chick?

You don't care about what I said. Don't you see what's going on?

Don't you see it's all about to go to shit? With Borges and Antín.

You don't think your book pissed them off?

-So? -You gotta be careful.

When all your stardom and writer bullshit ends…

you'll come back to us.

Right back.

We'll see when the time comes.

I'm fine for now.

-Toro! -How are you?

-Sup? -Gimme that.

You always want more guts.

-Here, man. -Let's see.

-Is it all here? -Everything you asked for.

-You fucked me over last time. -Never, Toro. When?

Okay, here.

Well?

What's this? You're short.

-What? -You're really short.

And you owe me from last week.

Last week, you just brought bones and guts.

"Bones and guts"? I was in your sister's guts. Come on, Toro. Pay up.

Don't jerk me around.

Okay, Toro. No problem. It's all good.

You know we work hard.

Only quality products,

animals that are fed dreams and fresh greens. You know the deal.

-Here. -There it is. Knew you had it in you.

-Beat it. -Take care.

Don't jerk me around.

Chinese food?

Sure.

Come on, man.

Hold up.

EL MARGINAL

Let's go.

Hi, Mabel. What's wrong?

The foster home called. They don't want Lucas anymore.

What do you mean? What happened?

I don't know. Some sort of incident. It looks like that was the last straw.

They've notified the court. That's it.

They're sending him to a correctional facility.

Why wasn't I notified? I'm his dad.

Sorry, but what can you do from prison?

In the eyes of the law, Lucas is alone.

Help me out, Mabel. I wanna talk to Lucas.

He doesn't want to talk to you or anyone else.

Emma's death,

his mother's suicide…

That's a lot for anyone to handle.

I'll talk to the family-court judge,

say there's another option. You. Lucas isn't alone.

No, Miguel. Not me.

I can't… I don't want to be responsible for him.

I've done enough.

Even though I thought it was all nuts, I shut my mouth and helped, always.

But I did it for Emma, not you.

And look what happened.

Thankfully, Micaela is with her father.

You know what those facilities are like.

Those kids are beaten.

Is that what you want for Lucas? Help me out, Mabel. Don't be unfair.

Unfair? You're calling me "unfair"?

I always made sure Lucas had everything that he needed, like he was my nephew.

I can't help you anymore.

Mabel.

No, you're shameless.

You're shameless.

It's your fault my sister's dead, Miguel.

I don't forgive you.

You are a son of a bitch.

-Mabel. -I won't help you.

-Mabel, listen to me. Mabel. -No way.

You didn't ask Lucas his opinion?

I've tried reaching him since I arrived, but the family court won't let me.

They won't. Neither will the conservator.

Look…

Help me write the judge handling my case, asking that I be referred to family court,

so I can regain parental rights, legal custody, whatever it's called.

Okay.

It's the only way he doesn't end up in a facility.

You know you can count on me

to take care of him, or do whatever, since I'm almost out.

If I can be of any help,

just say the word.

Help me write this fancy thing, so it's formal and they listen to me.

Let's do it.

"Madam Judge…"

-What's her last name? -Piñeiro.

Nice and clean, nice and clean

How are my girls?

Doing laundry?

The cash, ladies.

Good job.

All there?

Are your asses empty too? All the cash better be there.

No.

You're short. Where's the rest?

These guys are unbelievable. They wanna get paid without working.

What's your problem, man?

No problem. Got a problem with me?

None whatsoever. Pay up or I'll tie your nuts to that pipe.

Hey, fag. If you like nuts, come here.

"Fag"? Go fuck yourself.

Want me to whip it out?

Whip what out?

A cheese puff? You might poke yourself.

The girls got all brave.

Know what? Borges will be real pissed at these brats.

Then we'll get you when you're all alone, sweetie.

I'm so scared!

I'm shaking!

Borges can come, himself, if he wants to talk. We don't talk to the help.

-Keep washing, baby. -Go on.

Don't stab yourself.

-See you around. -Bye, babe.

-Get out! -Go on, cocksucker. Beat it.

-Pardon me. -Knock on the door!

-Or do you want me to get rid of it? -No, I want you to see this inmate.

If I don't answer the door, I'm shitting, for example.

Who is it?

It's Palacios.

Let him in.

She's such a ball buster… Come in.

Sit.

It says here that you requested permission to leave for an audience with a judge.

Your son?

I need a referral from the court, so I can regain legal custody.

"Legal custody." Guardianship.

Right. Molinari's gone.

So is the kid's mom. You've got no one to take care of him.

Exactly.

Look at you, following protocol.

You came out in the open and want to cooperate.

Since I got here, I've stayed out of trouble.

Always on the sidelines.

I'm asking for help with the court thing.

My son's the only thing keeping me sane,

keeping me from losing it. Please don't ignore me.

We don't want to ignore you!

We don't want you to go nuts. You're an artist.

A writer.

In the next Latin American prison literature conference,

it'd be awful if I were rebuked with the words,

"Antín,

repressor."

I need that audience.

"I need that audience."

Whistleblower.

Tattletale.

Big, fat tattletale.

Snitch.

When I was a kid, that's what we called people who ran their mouths.

You've got balls, Pastor. You're a live one.

You're like a riding crop,

shoved all the way up my ass, no lube.

However,

it's true you didn't give any names.

But many people are unhappy with you.

You put the spotlight on this institution…

"On this institution," on the whole prison system.

Nevertheless, you're untouchable.

Why are you untouchable?

Because Daddy's your guardian angel.

And I'm your guardian angel

despite your criticism, complaints, and protests on the radio.

I see that as part of your allure. Why? I helped you create that space.

Your freedom of expression

is a clear manifestation

of the abundance of my democratic spirit.

Understand?

Do I have permission or not?

You'll have permission if you promise

in your next book, which will be a best-seller,

you'll put on one page, in big letters,

"I knew the great Sergio Antín."

"A true democratic spirit."

Toro gave us this meat the other day.

-That fucker played dumb. -Yeah, 'cause he owes us.

So he paid us in meat,

but it's fine.

The other day, I gave him spoiled meat. He didn't notice, so we're square.

What is it?

I'm going to bed.

I got it.

Okay.

Sleep well, Martita.

That's fine.

I'll wake you at 5:00.

Don't be a pain, man. Why not a bit later, 6:30, 7:45?

At 5:00, bitch.

If you fuck a sheep, leave the white one. I'm making a scarf with it.

Son of a bitch.

Fucking dumbass.

He'll get the wool all sticky.

What a surprise.

What's your problem? Let her go, asshole!

-Son of a bitch! -Stop.

-Get out of here, you dumb bitch. -Hold on.

You're disgusting.

-Get out, you dumb bitch! -Blame me, Mom!

Get the fuck out!

-No, Mom! -You son of a bitch!

Miguel Palacios.

You requested this audience

due to the current situation of a minor, Lucas Palacios. Your son.

Yes, ma'am.

Do you understand he's not within my jurisdiction?

Yes, I'm requesting you give me a referral--

Yes, I know. A referral to the family-court judge,

so your custody is reinstated.

However,

until three years ago,

this minor's existence was not logged in the civil registry.

Why is that?

I was in prison. His mom couldn't help, so he went to my girlfriend.

She put him in school, cared for him.

Among other things. She also put him in the car

in which you tried to escape from prison.

True. That was my fault.

I was going through a tough time. I was confused and dragged her into it.

But I'm fine now. I'm doing things right and want to take care of my son.

That's great, but… he's better off in a facility.

What care can you provide?

With all due respect, you know those are rough places. I have income now.

I'd like to pay for his education, find him a new foster home.

Look, your history is

complicated.

Ma'am, I'm not saying--

Hold on. Let's be clear.

You requested the audience.

I granted it. Now allow me to speak.

So, essentially you're asking for a privilege.

I'm just requesting we find my son a foster home

and that I'm his guardian. He doesn't have anyone else.

That system will destroy him.

That system that you so often criticize

is the one that will now do what his parents could not.

I find no basis on which to argue in your favor.

I will not accept your request.

You know kids don't learn anything there. They're just punished.

You want him punished for my crimes? The fuck's he got to do with my mistakes?

No, Palacios. We won't continue with that language--

What language?

Is that all you care about? We're talking about my son's life.

A good kid. You wanna ruin his life 'cause you don't like me?

I'm asking that he be removed.

One day, you'll lose all the power you have over people.

-I'm not done! -Calm down!

I said I feel remorse. I made mistakes.

I'm doing time, with good behavior. What else do you want?

I've made my decision.

-This audience is over. -I know all about you people.

I was on both sides. I covered your asses. I cleaned up your messes.

I fabricated cases when you had to put people away!

You're way dirtier than us.