All language subtitles for Inside.The.World.s.Toughest.Prisons.S03E02.NF.WEB

Bogota, Colombia.

Capital of the world's largest producer
of cocaine.

Behind the towering walls
of its District Prison

lie criminals from every layer
of this blood-soaked industry.

An assassin who kills
more than three people,

some say that they become tormented.

It's a world fueled by addiction
and barbaric violence.

They took a machete
and decapitated him.

My name is Raphael Rowe.

I'm going to spend a week
locked up inside this Colombian prison.

But it's not my first time behind bars.

I served 12 years
for a murder I didn't commit.

Now I'm traveling the globe
to discover what life is really like

inside some of the world's
toughest prisons.

Bogota, Colombia.

I'm now in the back of a police truck,

being transported
to Bogota's District Prison.

This vast concrete lockup

is home to some of the city's
most violent criminals,

many of them caught up
in the country's endless drug war.

For over 50 years,
Colombia has been famous

as the world's biggest exporter
of cocaine.

With a murder rate over five times higher
than the United States,

drug violence here
is the second largest cause of death.

For many, the image
of a Colombian drug lord is Pablo Escobar,

who became one of the wealthiest criminals
in history.

But the inmates
in Bogota's District Prison

aren't billionaire cartel bosses.

They're mules, hitmen
and low-level pushers.

I'm going to spend a week here
to find out what it's like

for those serving time at the very bottom
of the drugs food chain.

Like any other inmate,

my journey to the prison
begins in a police car.

And my destination
makes for an intimidating sight.

This place looks like a fortress.

I can only describe it
from what I'm seeing.

It looks like a concrete tomb.
Somewhere where you bury people.

Only, in this case, it's living people.

New prisoners like me

are one of the easiest ways
to get drugs into the prison.

It means that my first ordeal
is a very thorough search.

I need you to take off
all of your clothes.

Leave your underwear on.

You want me to take off my clothes
down to my underwear?

What's the gloves for?

To prevent
any contact with bodily fluids.

What you looking for?

Mostly drugs.

Marijuana, cocaine, basuco.

Even more addictive than crack,

basuco is one of the most popular drugs
in Colombia,

a toxic mix of cocaine paste,
brick dust and sulfuric acid.

And with no internal search,
it's the kind of contraband

that would be easy to smuggle
into this jail.

After a freezing cold shower,
I'm given a prison uniform

and subjected
to a detailed health screening.

Number 15 has slight decay.

I've never been to a jail

where new inmates are given
this many medical tests.

The authorities are clearly
used to treating prisoners

with serious health problems.

60% of the people
that enter here are homeless.

Are these drug addicts?

Yes, there are a lot of patients
that are addicted to drugs.

Does the addiction problem here
cause behavior problems?

Are prisoners more violent?

Yes, the prisoners
become more violent,

but not only when
they are under the influence of drugs.

Also, when they have withdrawals.

Listening to the doctor,

I'm worried about what sort of inmates
I'll be doing time with.

Once prisoners have cleared processing,

they're brought
to one of the jail's six pavilions.

I'll spend much of my time in this jail
caged in this single concrete pit.

And having heard just how violent
this drug-fueled world can be,

I'm nervous about what comes next.

My heart's racing
and my head is uncomfortable,

and then there's the prisoners
to contend with.

Drug traffickers,
drug dealers, drug users.

I've got all that to face
in just a few seconds,

and I'm not feeling comfortable
if I'm honest.

As the guards release me
into the pavilion,

I'm left to fend for myself.

How you doing?

Hernan? Raphael.

- I'm Hernan.
- Okay.

The first inmate I meet

gives me the lowdown
on my fellow prisoners.

Who are all these men? I mean,
are they all in here for different crimes?

I'm here for robbery.

We're all in here for different crimes,
but they put us all together.

Hernan offers to give me a tour
of the block's very basic facilities.

Bathrooms.

That's to pee in?

Urinals.

We get infections because of this.

You have to be careful.

And this is the toilet?

This one,
I don't know if it works.

It doesn't work.

You have to throw water in there
to make it clean.

In the cell,
it looks like I'll be sharing with Hernan

and another inmate
awaiting trial for murder, Alexander.

Okay.

As a new prisoner,
I know I need to fit in with my cellmates.

Okay, that's mine, right?

All the same,
I wasn't expecting what comes next.

Two hundred until you leave.

I have to pay to sleep in this cell?

When I arrived, I had to pay.

Since I am here for some time now,

now it is my time
to charge you what I had to pay.

It is worth 200 or more.

Undeterred by the presence
of the camera,

Hernan makes an astonishing threat.

And If I don't pay?

You cannot tell the guards.

If you tell them,
we will attack you with a knife.

You want to charge me
to sleep on my prison cell bed?

And if I tell the guards,
you will attack me with a knife?

I am a drug addict,
and I like to take drugs.

For all those years that I am here,
I have always liked marijuana.

That is why you need to pay me 200,
so I can take drugs.

To begin with, I can't work out
whether they're actually serious.

And if I don't pay?

How can I put this? We can deal with you.

Do you have a knife?

I have this, and I have this.

- Only fists?
- That's my weapons.

Here, we use a knife.

I survived...

Fists are for the streets.

I survived prison in England.

Fists are for the streets.

- Here there are no fists.
- No?

Only knives.

Unbelievably, it seems
like Hernan's threat is for real.

If you do not pay me what I am asking for,
you will have a problem with me.

I'd rather take my chances,
get my weapon and fight.

That is why you need to pay me 200,
so that I can take drugs.

I don't know how, but you have to.
You have to.

It looks like standing my ground

has been enough
to prevent a fight, for now.

But with Hernan's threat
ringing in my ears,

it's clear I need to find out fast
how life on the block really works.

What other rules are there

that I would need to know about
as a prisoner?

You're in here for one thing,
I'm in here for another.

If you want to stay on your own,
it's fine.

At least you will avoid problems this way.

You mentioned that you are a drug addict.

Are there many other prisoners in here
who are drug addicts?

In every pavilion,
most of them take drugs.

But who controls the drugs?

I am the one who controls the drugs.

I am the one who says where they take it,
how much and when.

Despite the authorities'
best efforts,

drugs are clearly finding their way
into the prison,

either via inmates or their visitors.

And with Hernan now claiming
to be the block's chief dealer,

I'm not looking forward
to my first night behind bars.

If there's one thing
I'm most concerned about,

it is going behind the door
with these two guys who use drugs.

They could become very violent
and dangerous for me.

They could be uncontrollable.

I don't know what effect
the drugs will have on them.

I'm just hoping that when I'm
behind that door with these two guys,

they're not going to take drugs tonight.

At 5:30, prisoners prepare
to head to their cells for the night.

Once the guards are out of sight
and we're locked inside,

it doesn't take long
for my worst suspicions to come true.

What are you doing, Hernan?

Rolling a joint.

I smoke two spliffs in a row,
and my head gets like a bomb.

You smoke all the weed
in one joint?

You don't put no cigarette in with it?

You just smoke it pure like that?

Yes, pure.
I don't mix it. Just pure.

If the guards smell that, do they not...

As long as I have loads,
it's not a problem.

If this didn't exist in prisons,
there would be a lot of problems.

Smells very strong.

Even he's choking,
a seasoned marijuana smoker,

and probably avid drug-taker.

He's taken a couple of puffs,
and he's high.

Hernan may only be smoking weed,
but as the block's chief dealer,

I've no idea what else he might be taking.

Either way, his mood starts to change.

And now, he's shouting out the window.
He's high.

And he's shouting out the window
to other prisoners.

So if I wanted to sleep now,
I couldn't get sleep,

and how quickly
could that turn into an argument?

"Shut up." "No, you shut up."
"No, you shut up."

Before you know it,
we're fighting in the cell

and almost killing each other.

With prisoners
shouting from cell to cell,

there's an intimidating atmosphere.

And with me banged up
with a murder suspect

and an armed robber high as a kite,
sleeping's not an option.

When that door is banged up,
when the lights are turned off,

it's a very, very frightening experience.

My concern is that,
after the threats they gave me,

you could get very paranoid.

Whilst on the weed, I don't know
how he will react to that drug

or whether he has the intention
to take something even stronger,

like cocaine or crack.

I have to be very careful.

And I don't think
I'm gonna be able to sleep.

At 5:00 a.m.,
prisoners are released from their cells.

I'm relieved that, so far,

Hernan hasn't followed through
on his threat of violence.

All the same, I'm still finding it hard
to adjust to my new surroundings.

When you enter this place,
it sort of closes in on you. It's small.

And it must get smaller and smaller
the more time you spend in it.

Even when it rains,
inmates are locked out of their cells

and are forced to spend all day
on this single patch of concrete.

Inmates can go for years

without seeing anything
of the outside world but the sky.

Luckily, there's a way for some prisoners
to escape for a few hours.

Those admitted to the jail's work scheme
can take jobs

ranging from simple cleaning duties
to working in the textile workshop.

Today, I've been assigned a job
in the prison kitchens.

Here, we are frying potatoes,
and then we will give them to the inmates.

- This is the mask.
- Oh.

Okay.

I'm on the job with Ramiro,

an inmate awaiting trial for fraud,
from the Nasa tribe,

one of Colombia's many indigenous groups.

It's a status that comes
with some unusual benefits.

How long have you been sentenced
to imprisonment for?

I'm not yet sentenced.

My community will sentence me
according to the law in our village.

The Colombian authorities cannot
sentence me according to their law,

because I am native.

Really? So, what, your community
doesn't recognize the law of Colombia?

Native tribes are autonomous.

They exercise their own law,
government and lifestyle.

At his trial, Ramiro hopes he'll be
sent back to his village for sentencing.

His people have other privileges
that seem at odds with the war on drugs.

We produce coffee and coca.

The coca is only for traditional use.

For tribesmen like Ramiro,

chewing the coca leaf
is an ancient part of Colombian life.

The Colombian government allow that?
It's not against the law?

The government has said we're
allowed to grow 1,000 plants of coca.

It has to be only for fully medicinal use.

We have other indigenous friends
that are in prison for drug trafficking

because they have ignored
the Colombian laws,

and they have planted
more than 1,000 plants for narcotic use.

They were making basuco.

There's a huge difference
between chewing the coca leaf

and taking its more toxic form, cocaine.

So it's depressing to hear
that even Colombia's ancient tribes

are now playing their part
in this criminal industry.

There's no dining hall
in the District Jail,

so my next job
is bringing lunch direct to the pavilions.

Prison grub is never appetizing.

But all the same, the food this lunchtime
seems to be going down well.

Yeah, you know, it looks cooked.
It looks well-cooked.

And it's presentable, I must say.

It's, you know, white rice,
a kind of bean soup,

very delicious potatoes
baked by me, of course.

After lunch, many prisoners
are on lockdown in the block

for the rest of the day.

Luckily, as in any Latin American jail,

there's one favorite way
for inmates to fill the time.

Today's match is a face-off
between two rival teams in Liberty Block.

I'm on the subs' bench
for the team led by my cellmate Hernan.

After he threatened to stab me
on my first day,

I'm hoping that if I can prove myself
on the pitch,

it might be enough to clear the air.

All these guys want to win.

Even in these friendly games,
they want to win.

And the most challenging
is not the football itself.

It's making sure you don't turn someone.

You kick someone by accident,

they say you kick him deliberately,
there's a fight broken out.

With a player down,
it's my chance to get stuck in.

That is a foul.

The dramas of tackling.

Are you going to play?

You want me to come?

Let's play.

They got an injury, so my moment has come
for me to shine... or flop seriously.

This might only be a friendly,

but there's no doubt
these inmates are playing tough.

And after 20 minutes of play,
I'm feeling the heat.

You know when you have
that burning dry sensation in your throat?

Well, I haven't got that.

I've got something
worse than that right now.

After showing a few silky moves,
I seem to win the respect of my teammates.

Your new name is Pirri.

You've now been baptized
with the name Pirri.

Okay.

Most importantly,
even Hernan seems impressed.

Pirri. So I'm now Pirri.

The one thing I feel confident about,
just by taking part in that game...

is I'm not just a new face on the wing.

I've added a little bit of color,
a little bit of character to who I am.

And that's what prisoners do.

For me,
it's all part of the survival strategy

in whatever prison you go to.

My performance in the game

seems to have broken the ice
between me and Hernan.

After the game, he even invites me
to join him for a game of chess.

It's my chance to see
if we can resolve our differences

and for me to find out more

about why so many young men like him
end up dealing drugs.

Where do you come from outside?

What community do you come from?
Is it a poor community?

Bolivar City is very poor,

and, unfortunately,
I spent my childhood there.

Why do you think people get involved
in the drugs trade?

People get into drug trafficking
because there is a lot of money involved.

They have to commit crimes

to provide for themselves
and their family.

Crime is... It comes with poverty.

You see a lot of hunger,
and you see a lot of poverty.

They turn out bad

because they have nothing,
not even education.

Check.

Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on.

Checkmate.

Here.

No, no.

- Here.
- Oh, no.

Oh, yes.

When I first met you, you came across
as quite a tough, intimidating guy,

demanding money with menace.

But today, you come across
as a slightly different guy.

Who is Hernan?
Which of those two characters are you?

The only way to survive in here...

is to take something from people.

The truth is
that I left my kids with nothing.

I have to find a way
to try and send them something.

I have no other way.

I don't have any other way in here.
Do you understand?

There's no way for me to tell
if Hernan's attempt at extortion

was meant to feed his family
or just his drug habit.

Either way, it seems jail has done little
to change his criminal career.

Poverty drives people in many directions.

And here in Colombia,
in the slums where Hernan comes from...

many people turn to selling drugs

because it's the one way
they can make money.

You know, people struggle on a daily basis
to feed themselves and their families.

I would always argue
that there is another avenue,

but sometimes there isn't.

If I was in that predicament,
I'd probably do the same. Wouldn't you?

It's a new day
in the District Jail.

After several days inside,

the claustrophobia
is really getting to me.

With nothing to look at
but the same four walls,

I can see why so many inmates
turn to drugs as an escape.

The jail's restricted city site

means there's limited space
for rehabilitation facilities.

Crammed into the middle,
however, is a small area for workshops.

And this morning,
I've been allowed out of the pavilion

to help in the textiles unit.

So what are we making here?

We're making sleeves

to cover the arms on a jacket,
so they don't get dirty.

Do you need me to iron flat
some more pieces of fabric?

You can do this one.

I've been assigned to work
with Mexican inmate Jose.

Why are you here, Jose?
Why are you in this prison?

Well, I'm here for drug trafficking.

Forgive me, but you seem
a little bit old to be a mule.

How did you get involved
in becoming a drug mule?

The problem was that...

Well, I am a mechanic.

I was a mechanic in Guadalajara.

So I fix two, three cars

and this client invited me to Mexico City

to fix some cars.

They were a drug gang called Los Zetas...

and they took me to their house.

They took me to a basement.

There was a friend, a boy, in front of me.

He was told to fly to Colombia
to smuggle drugs. He refused.

They decapitated him with a machete.

They took away his body,
and his blood remained on the floor.

That was Monday. On Tuesday, they told me,

"You are traveling,
or we'll do the same to you."

I said, "I'll do it."

The Los Zetas gang
who recruited Jose

are one of the most ruthless drug cartels
in the world,

notorious for using extreme violence,

including mass executions,
cannibalism and terror attacks.

Today, I'm in the hands
of the Colombian prison system,

and I feel at peace.

Have you heard anything from the cartel
since your arrest?

I haven't heard anything from them.

I just talk to my family. They are fine.

Do you miss your family?

Of course I do. A lot.

Most inmates can't wait
to get out of this prison,

so it's shocking to find a prisoner
so scared of the cartels

that he's relieved to be inside.

If his story is true, and I have no reason
to doubt what he told me,

it's got to be one of the saddest,
horrifying stories I've heard.

And this is a consequence
of drug trafficking. This is what happens.

He's a mule, and there are
many, many, many stories like his.

Coping with the hopelessness
of a long sentence in here is tough.

While some get by watching TV
or just sleeping,

others turn to a higher power.

For two to three hours every day,

this free church group meets
to sing and pray.

And I'm surprised to see

that one of their lead preachers
is my cellmate Alexander.

When I first met Alexander,
who's leading this group,

he was threatening
to cause me physical harm.

He was threatening to stab me.

Now look at him. He's there...
clapping hands and singing to Jesus.

I mean, the two just jar, don't they?

Today, Alexander might be a man of God,

but on the outside,
he was a member of a brutal drug gang.

Police regularly clash with gangs
like these to round up dealers.

Yet the street pushers are only
the most visible part of the problem.

Each gang also employs
dedicated teams of hitmen, or sicarios,

who protect their territory
with lethal force.

Alexander himself
is awaiting trial for a murder

allegedly committed
while he was a member of a drug gang.

He's reluctant to speak
about the charge on camera,

but he has agreed to talk about his life
in one of Bogota's most violent cartels.

What was your position
in this drug trafficking network?

I was selling for a while,
and I was packing large quantities.

What drugs are we talking about?

Basuco, cocaine, marijuana.

You know of guys
that have committed murder

in the name of the drug trafficking gang
they work for?

Yes, of course. I met plenty of them,

and you always hear
about the murders they committed.

What kind of person are they?

They prefer being alone
or only with other sicarios.

An assassin who kills
more than three people,

some say that they become tormented.

That's their lives. It's not a happy life.

How much do they earn
for every murder they commit?

Whenever they killed someone,
they would get a bonus.

They'd get two million pesos
or a motorcycle as a gift.

They would get a paid holiday
or something like that.

You were involved in the drug trafficking.

What were the rewards like
before you ended up in prison?

When you're involved in it on the outside,

all you think of is drinking,
women and taking drugs.

And you believe it's great like that.

But in reality,
this left me without my family.

I'm now on my own.

To think that this is now my life.

There is nothing to be gained
from drug trafficking.

I destroyed lots of families,
simply by selling them basuco.

I realized here that, in fact,
what I was doing was worse

than what the sicarios do,

because I was killing people slowly.

For the poor, drug trafficking
may seem to offer a way to a better life.

But for Alexander, it's a false promise.

Everybody I've met so far
are small-time drug dealers.

No one here I've met has benefited
in any way, shape or form

from being involved in drug trafficking.

These are not even the foot soldiers.

I would say that these are lower
than the foot soldiers.

These are the ones that the cartels,
and even middle dons,

are prepared to sacrifice in order
to profit from their drug trafficking.

After almost a week inside,

I'm starting to understand the devastation
caused by Colombia's drug trade

on the lives of its poor.

But the influence of the cartels
doesn't stop at the prison gates.

I've seen for myself

how narcotics are clearly making their way
inside the prison.

So today, I'm swapping sides
to see what life is like for the guards

in this endless game of cat and mouse.

Officer Ochoa is one of the trainers

leading the prison's new team
of sniffer dogs.

What is the dog trained to sniff out?
Is it just drugs? And what kind of drugs?

Among these narcotics,
we have LSD, marijuana

and all the cocaine derivatives.

Today, the guards
have received a tip-off

that there may be narcotics
in an inmate's cell.

Officer Ochoa and her dog, Waco...

- Let's go, boy.
- Get to work.

The introduction of these dogs

has dramatically reduced
the level of drugs found in the prison.

Nothing has been found.

But as I've seen with Hernan,

many inmates are clearly finding ways
to get around the system.

I'm curious to find out for myself

just how easy it might be
to deceive these new sniffer dogs.

The sniffer dog didn't find anything
during the genuine cell search.

So what they've suggested is that
they will give me a bag of marijuana,

I will plant it in the cell,

and the dog will go in
and see if they can find it.

Just to stimulate and demonstrate
how the dog finds drugs.

Having spent
12 years in prison myself,

I know a thing or two
about hiding contraband.

So what I'm going to do is take this weed,

I'm going to actually wrap it up
in this piece of tissue paper...

and then I'm going to put
this tissue paper under this bar of soap

to try and put the dog's scent
off of the weed.

Okay, senora, you can go in now.
You can go in.

During my time in prison, you know,
I smoked the odd joint.

So I had to hide it
from the sniffer dogs and the guards.

So I've got some experience with this.

After a few minutes of searching,

it looks like my years of experience
have paid off.

I've not made it easy for the dog,
put it that way.

And he's really struggling.

But just when the search
is almost called off,

it looks like the game may be up.

The dog is right near where I planted it.

I think it's found it.

Well done, champion.

This time round,
it's a win for the sniffer dog.

But the drug use
I've seen with my own eyes

tells me that the guards
are ultimately fighting a losing battle.

I admire their tenacity
in wanting to reduce

the consumption or smuggling of drugs
into this prison to zero.

Do I think they will be successful?
No, I don't.

Searching for drugs isn't
the only challenge facing the guards.

Colombian jails also have
a dire reputation for prisoner violence.

In the worst cases, the prison's riot team

are prepared to take down
mass disturbances with force.

To limit smaller outbreaks,

the best method is to extract
and isolate inmates causing trouble.

So I'm now being shown
the solitary confinement area,

the punishment cells where prisoners
are taken and kept on their own

for breaking the rules.

And it looks quite stark.

If the pavilions
feel like graveyards,

these cells are coffins.

It's down to officers like Hurbey Marin
to police this bleak world.

This is a very different space
to the cell blocks

where most of the prisoners are held.

What is this used for?

When a prisoner is breaking
the rules in the blocks

up to the point that his life and health,

and also of other prisoners, is at risk,

we have to use this place
to separate them,

so that they do not harm themselves
and other prisoners.

Can they have luxuries and privileges
like they have over in the normal blocks,

or are those privileges taken away?

They still have the right
to make a phone call.

They can go out to do sports.

Officer Marin seems to be painting

a relatively rosy picture
of life in solitary.

The reality, however, may be different.

Convicted thief Luis is on lockdown here
for his own protection

after a run-in with his cellmates.

How often do you get out of the cell

to go on exercise
or recreational activity?

I don't have
any recreational activity here.

I'm just allowed to go out
two or three times a day

for 15 minutes to make a phone call.

So two times a day
to make a telephone call,

otherwise you're in that cage
for the rest of the day?

Yes, sir.

But you have the choice
to take part in sport

or other activities
that would get you out of your cell?

We're not allowed.

Which must put you under extreme pressure,
mental pressure. How is that?

I feel safer here, in this place.

In the pavilion,
I have to coexist with 150, 160 people.

So living together is impossible.

There are problems for everything:
a phone call, even over a snack.

There are all kinds
of confrontations here: fights, knives...

It's chilling that life
in the drug-fueled pavilions

can be so violent that Luis actually
prefers to live in a cell this size.

There's very little
natural light in here.

Just at the top there,
there's a little bit coming in.

But otherwise in here,
it's very claustrophobic.

I can't imagine spending time
in this cell.

And I've done
a lot of solitary confinement,

and the cells I was in were bad,

but I've never been in anything
as bad as this.

But, boy, what a small space.

I'm already beginning to feel
like I need to take deep breaths...

just to make use of the space.

But when that door's shut
and you've been breathing for hours,

I can imagine that it closes in
more and more.

But that's what these places
are designed to do.

They're designed to make you
not want to spend time in here.

So why prisoners would want
to come here voluntarily...

They must be in a really bad place
or feel really threatened.

Until the prison gets to grips
with its drugs problem,

the violence here will continue.

But the prison has made a start
by inviting a very select group of inmates

to therapy sessions
that tackle their addictions.

Take a random card.
I want you to take it, each of you.

And after taking it...

think about how this card
relates to your life.

This particular exercise
uses picture cards

to help inmates confront the damage
caused by their drug addictions.

With this, we see how many
people suffered because of drugs...

how many died.

Because of drugs, I have made mistakes
that destroyed my life.

Because of drugs...

I have killed people,

not only by shooting them

but also by hurting their hearts...

and harming them.

I'm impressed by the willingness
of these hardened criminals to open up.

And before long, it's my turn to step up.

My question is, "How is your life
related to what you see in the picture?"

So, my card shows a person...

lying in the middle of a very open space.

I have experienced the confinement
of a prison cell for many, many years.

So this is where I am now.

I'm free, and I'm living in an open space.

It's useful having guys
in a tough environment like a prison

talk about their emotions and feelings
and reflect on their past.

But it's sad to think that, still,
50-60% of prisoners in this prison

are addicted to drugs.

And that tells me that they're failing.
They're failing to tackle the problem.

Twenty guys attending sessions
four or five times a month is not enough.

It's not enough
to tackle the problem they face.

It's my final day
in this Colombian prison.

And for my cellmate, drug trafficker
and murder suspect Alexander,

it's a very special morning.

Alexander is going to have
a conjugal visit with his new bride,

the woman he married only a week ago.

I'm told that Alexander
will take his wife to his cell...

where they'll consummate their marriage.

It's not the ideal place,
but it's all they've got.

And I'm sure
they're both very excited by it.

No, I didn't think
you were going to make it today.

I've been waiting and waiting.

You look beautiful.

You look like a princess. Look at you.

You are all nice and chubby.

I've got another surprise for you.

I had it made especially for you.

Alexander, how you doing?

Good morning.

- Astrid?
- Good morning. I'm Astrid.

Raphael. Nice to meet you.

Likewise.

Ah, you seemed very happy
when you saw your wife this morning.

Every time she comes,
she makes me really happy.

Every eight days, when I get to see her,
my heart is just ready to burst.

What's it like for you, Astrid?
I mean, this is your love nest.

What do you feel about this place

being the place
where you can get close to Alexander?

For a woman,
it's frustrating and it's difficult

because you always have an aspiration
for a better place.

But I suppose we just have to try

and not dwell on the fact
that we are in a prison.

Do you get angry with Alexander

because he got himself
into this situation?

I had always asked him
to quit taking drugs.

When he'd stop doing it,
obviously he'd end up in a foul mood.

We would fight a lot,

because there were certain things
that I could never share with him.

Well, I am scared.
I am scared that this might happen again.

What was the hardest thing
for you, Alexander?

For me, the hardest thing really
is not to be with her,

and also to have wasted all this time
we could have had together.

I wasted it all.

But, you know,
I try not to make life more difficult

by thinking about those things,

because I trust her.

I really trust her,

and I know she's not gonna let me down.

Even the hardest critic

of prisoners having
anything near like a privilege

would be moved by their story.

It's hard for me to say
whether she knows what she's getting into.

But do I believe
that she will be able to endure

many years of him being in prison? No.

I don't think a relationship like theirs,

which is at the moment
flowing in the love cycle,

will last if he ends up doing
a very long sentence.

Whether or not
Alexander's relationship lasts,

I'm impressed
that the prison supports policies

like conjugal visits
that improve prisoner behavior.

Compared to other prisons in Colombia,

there's no doubt that the District Jail
is making a sincere attempt to liberalize.

All the same, there's no denying
the scale of its chronic drug problem.

To find out more about how the authorities
are trying to meet this challenge,

I've come to meet prison director
Dr. Sonia Nino.

I was told by the medical staff
and the social workers

that a huge proportion of prisoners
coming into the prison

suffer from serious drug addiction.

What do we do with prisoners
addicted to drugs?

We offer them special attention.
They receive psychological help.

There's an occupational therapist,
social worker,

even a doctor comes to see them.

They participate in all the activities

they have in the prison.

We keep them busy.

Even with the effort, one of the things
that struck me more than anything

is the amount of men
in the recreational area,

in their cell blocks,
that are just idly hanging around

for 12 hours
when they're out of their cell.

We have seven units here, right?

Two of these are for sex offenders.

These particular inmates
are not released from their units,

but 95% of inmates take part
in activities outside of their units.

I can't buy the fact she said
95% of prisoners in this nick

have meaningful activity
outside of their block,

because that's not what I saw.

There's just not enough space
in this prison

to provide, in my view,
the meaningful activity

that prisoners need to occupy their time

and prepare them for resocialization
and rehabilitation.

The District Prison may not be
the dirtiest or most violent lockup

I've done time in,

but the desolate lives of its inmates
make it one of the bleakest.

From street dealers
working with lethal hitmen

to drug mules
threatened with barbaric violence

and junkies scarred by years of addiction,

these are the casualties
of a parasitic business

in which very few ever get rich.

I've been impressed by some of the ways

this prison is trying
to reform its inmates.

But it's also a reminder
of a bigger problem.

The vast majority of prisoners locked up
in Colombian jails for drug trafficking

are small-time enforcers,
mules and drug pushers.

And until Colombia
can deal with its own drug addiction,

jails like this will continue to fill up.