the attacks. His passion left me in awe. Among other things, he claimed that the only option was to let me go home, since there was not a single piece of evidence hinting at my involvement.
The judge linked me to due process and declared that I could go home during the following three months of investigation. She stated that I should not leave the country without prior authorization, and that I should sign the book at the Attorney General’s Office every fifteen days to prove that I had not fled the country. She did not set bail, deciding that it wasn’t needed. I’d be going home that same afternoon.
We left the courtroom and my loved ones were waiting outside with open arms. We were all relieved, but I knew the nightmare was just beginning; it would continue its course and I had no choice but to let it. I still could not believe it. I had returned to Guatemala and stayed there, knowing that I had done no wrong and naively thinking there was no reason to fear or to hide. How wrong I had been. No wonder most people in this country decide to flee at the first sight of legal trouble, instead of trusting the justice system. In Guatemala’s defense, and notwithstanding my husband’s alleged actions, this legal strategy orchestrated by Olyslager and his attorney, the law firm of Mayora & Mayora representing Global Forest Partners, and an apparently partial public prosecutor, is one of the vilest I have witnessed and experienced in my life. But then again, I am not an attorney and I had never been in legal trouble before.
—
I was sent back to the carceleta to wait as the officers prepared the paperwork for my release. The moment I stepped inside the holding cell, the women asked me how it had gone and if I was to go home that day. I was still in shock and couldn’t allow myself to be happy about the news, because I didn’t feel I could trust the court to efficiently process and guarantee my release that day. That was immediately followed by another thought: how could I show happiness about going home when I was surrounded by so many women who may not have the same privilege that day? So, I quietly answered, “God willing, I should go home today.” And to my utmost surprise, these women, each one dealing with her own personal story, many facing years behind bars far away from their loved ones, and most lacking the support and resources I had, approached me one by one to hug me and wish me well. That pure and humane gesture moved me to the core.
I’m not sure how much time went by, but eventually my name was called and I was asked to step out of the carceleta. I said my goodbyes and wished the women luck, never imagining I would see this place again so soon. I was then taken to sign the exit book, where we waited for some paperwork to come through. Finally, I was led back up the same ramp I had walked down less than thirty-six hours before. Once again, as we passed the men’s holding cell, the male inmates got rowdy while the police officers were gentlemen. Miranda was by my side every step of the way, until he delivered me safely to my family, waiting outside on the street. I gave him a long heartfelt hug and thanked him.
Once I’d got into the car, I spoke to my friends on my cell phone and they asked me if they could come over to my house to see me. I was exhausted, but how could I say no? I warned them I had nothing to offer them at home but that I needed to see them, hug them, share my story with them in the flesh, and simply have the same wonderful and blessed time we always have when we are together.
As I walked through my front door, I was lovingly greeted by my dogs, Sidney and Chelsea, and warmly welcomed with a hug by my housekeeper, Olga. My children were supposed to come home that night, but they were so happy spending time with their cousins at my brother Turi’s home, that my mother decided to let them stay the night. This worked out fine. It would give me time to celebrate with my family and friends, and allow me a desperately needed good night’s sleep in my own bed that night.
I managed to take a warm shower and change into sweatpants. My freshly washed hair was wet and gathered in a messy bun, and I was makeup-free. Several weeks would pass before I was able to wear makeup again. It seemed useless because any eye makeup I put on was inevitably washed away by tears. Vanity had become irrelevant.
Soon, my angels, my chosen brothers and sisters, began to pour into my home, each bearing a bottle of wine, cheese, or some other goody to share, along with those quiet, long hugs that say it all. We have spent a lifetime growing and learning together, sharing success, defeat, sadness, and joy, and here they were once again, by my side, replenishing my soul, allowing me to share my experience, letting me cry and laugh at the absurdity of it all.
I had just been through thirty-six of the most intense hours of personal growth I had ever experienced, and I had verified that I have an amazing family and unconditional friends, and that the love I am showered with is much more powerful than the hate Juan Pablo Olyslager Muñoz and a team of well-known attorneys could throw my way. I knew the battle would be long and hard, but now I also knew it would not be impossible.
Chapter 4
Months of Turmoil
The three months that followed were a blur of emotions. I was trying to get my life back on track, but I was now unemployed, I did not know where my husband was, and I had to deal with my ongoing legal issues. Nothing brought me more joy and a sense of purpose than my children.
I woke up on Saturday, the first morning back after a night in jail, rested and eagerly awaiting my children’s arrival. My mother and I had decided to treat their two nights away at Tío Turi’s house as if it had been their idea. I’d worry later about any questions they might have about where I’d been. They came home delighted, as five-year-old children tend to do, and I couldn’t hug them enough.
Later that Saturday morning, I remembered Christie’s words from the night before, “The first thing you should do tomorrow is read our classmates’ chat. It will be food for your soul.” I grabbed my cell phone, turned it on, and went straight to the chat. Tears started rolling down my cheeks. I was so moved by all the messages of love and support. That’s how I learned that my longtime friends had not only been vigilant about my situation, but had even opened a bank account to raise funds in the event the judge required me to pay bail. They had also managed to have two bail bond companies ready so that I would not have to spend another night in jail.
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A month went by and my home received visitors on a daily basis. My friends, family, and loved ones continued to make sure I was never alone. My therapist had once again diagnosed me with post-traumatic stress syndrome, which I had already suffered a year earlier when my husband told me of his financial troubles. I left my house only for the essentials or to meet in safe places with the people I loved. While at home, I was anxious and worried, thinking that “they” would come back to take me once again. My attorney insisted that this would not happen, but I didn’t feel reassured. If I had been taken once from the safety of my home to the carceleta, courtesy of a false statement against me and with no tangible proof to back it up, why would it not happen again? What was to stop them? I had seen with my own eyes at my hearing how the Mayora & Mayora attorneys representing Global Forest Partners had requested preventive detention, and my attorney had told me that after that judge recused herself from my case, they had gone to the new judge with the same request, which thankfully had been denied . . . for the time being. Only an idiot would not worry in my case.
Meanwhile, as the law firms of Mayora & Mayora and Frank Trujillo, who represented Olyslager, continued working together to make their false accusations stick in their evidence-less case against me, my original judge, the one who’d conducted my hearing on Friday, September 18, 2015, had been apprehended the following Monday, September 21, 2015, and taken into custody, charged with several crimes. I later saw an online video recorded during her preliminary hearing, when she said that judges are no longer able to judge justly in Guatemala, that they can no
