Every person working
in Mexico's justice system ought to see this documentary.
But that will never happen. In point of fact, the film was
initially banned in the country, but was eventually allowed
to be shown. It is the highest grossing documentary in Mexican
film history. It closely follows the tragic plight of Antonio,
who has been wrongly accused of a murder.
Without
proper legal protocol, he is thrown into jail, which is what
happens in 95% of arrests. Two lawyers are assigned to his
case. With a camera inside his jail which later tracks the
goings-on inside the tiny little office where his trial is
held -- after two years of rotting in jail -- we watch another
lawyer who will speak for him and attempt to rip apart the
false testimony given by Victor, a witness of ill repute.
Joining him are the horrific detective and his evil cohorts
who pulled him off the street to make the arrest. All are
liars, and as Antonio's lawyer attempts to ask pertinent relevant
questions, the problematic judge denies him any recourse to
reassess the lies in the file on Antonio. Rather, the judge
simply forces the benevolent and highly courageous lawyer
to ask questions that have nothing to do with seeking his
client's freedom. The female prosecutor looks like a tiny
hunchback of Notre Dame as she sits laughing and smiling sardonically
at the proceedings. There is what they call a face-off, where
Antonio is allowed to interrogate his accusers. This is a
terribly riveting scene, in which evidence clearly shows Antonio
is innocent. Through clever questioning, Antonio uncovers
the lies. We expect him to get off, finally. But when the
camera shows the judge and prosecutor reentering the room,
they are both laughing. Antonio is read the verdict through
the tiny window full of bars in which prisoners stand in court.
He is found guilty. Evidently 97% of cases result in a guilty
verdict, despite the total lack of evidence to prove such
guilt. In fact, Antonio was working that day, a fact corroborated
by three workers. Still, such evidence was not allowed to
be admitted into court or is rebuked by the judges if heard.
Antonio's
case dramatically exemplifies Mexico's travesty of justice.
After rotting in jail for nearly three years (during which
time his child was born), his case is finally accepted by
an appellate court (court of appeal). For that trial, the
camera is not allowed in, but one judge reveals on-camera
that there was a shadow of doubt about his guilt and he managed
to convince the other judges, who pronounced him guilty, that
they were misguided. Antonio is finally freed, and we are
relieved, but angry at the suffering he had to endure. We
discover the diabolical detective who arrested him and lied
was promoted. We also find out that most of the youth rotting
in jail in this lawless land have fallen under the law of
presumed guilt; that everyone arrested is guilty and that
innocence is a long and solitary road that goes unrecognized
in Mexico's justice system.
In
2016, Mexico will overturn the presumed guilty law, but the
filmmakers fear that not a single judge will support the new
law that will still oblige the 'accused' to spend no less
than 80 days behind bars. This immeasurably important film
(2009) has garnered several awards, has been screened in 11
international festivals, and is one of the six films featured
in the New Mexican Film Week offered by Montreal's Cinema
Latino-americano.
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Personally,
I had first-hand experience, albeit minor, compared to this
film, of Mexico's sham of a justice system. I was robbed in
the casita by one of the three workers who entered
to garden, fix the water pump and the non-working TV. I was
abused by the rental agent of Roma Agency in Ajijic who wanted
to get rid of me from the get-go as did the owner of the casita.
"I want her out." She also told me not to make ‘trouble’
whatever that meant. When the local police of Ajijic arrived,
they did nothing, but informed me I had to go to Chapala city
to file the police report. It took over two hours for the
police to type out the report which I was to get in my hands
the following day. Though the policeman writing up the report
was told the name of the agency renting me the casita,
along with the names of the owner and the three workmen who
had access to the place, an investigation was never carried
out.
There
are too many absurd details to give you now, but suffice it
to say, locals told me the police are often in on the robberies,
and refrain from investigating. Who knows it could be one
of their relatives who does the robbing. After all, Ajijic
is a small town.
The
rental agent changed the locks immediately after I was robbed,
threw me out on the street, rubbing in my face that I was
never to come back to ‘her’ town, and that the
120 dollars coming from "her own pocket" (she kept
repeating this to me) was to help me find a place to stay
for the remainder of my ten day stay. Because she instantly
changed the lock without telling me or waiting for the police
from Chapala to arrive -- nearly seven hours after the robbery
-- they had no access to get in and inspect. I had been given
two hours to collect my things; the phone was disconnected
and I was without anything.
The
entire ordeal proved to me how totally despicable is Mexico's
justice system -- that its corruption is insidiously entrenched
at every level of the law, and that big or small crime will
never be investigated correctly. This horrific robbery (I
was sleeping when the perpetrators entered the casita) personally
left me thinking Mexico is a grand place for music, sun and
sea, but at the bat of an eyelid, you could end up in jail
or be a victim of a crime -- left stranded without legal integrity
working on your side. Be very very careful. Once in jail,
minute are your chances of ever seeing the bright sun of the
day that shines beyond prison bars. See the film to understand
that the whimsy of Mexican justice is as frightening as crime
itself.