Above: Two security guards escort a prisoner to his trial at Forum, the civil and criminal courthouse in Divinopolis, Brazil. He is accompanied by Alessandro Garcia Silva (last photo, second left), a criminal prosecutor at Forum. Prisoners at Forum usually come from Presidio Floramar, an adult prison depicted here. (Photos by Michelle Ferng) 

“There are no romantic crimes anymore, no more crimes of passion. Crime is now about drugs.”

Lawyer Antonio Ailton Rosa explained the changes taking place related to crime in Brazil.

“Over the past two months there has been a crime wave,” he nodded, which has resulted “in more homicides at this point than all of last year.” According to his knowledge, “all this new crime is related to drugs.” Ms. Cecilia Neves Silveira, IBJ’s in-country contact, showed us a book of Brazil’s criminal code at Antonio’s office that defines 24 ways to be a drug dealer. Drug trafficking is not actually a ‘permanent crime,’ such as kidnapping where a criminal is committing an on-going offense that permits police officers to search a house whenever they choose. Under Brazilian law, arrests for non-permanent crimes can only be made during daylight hours with a warrant from a judge.  However, Antonio taught us that the police behave as if drug trafficking was a ‘permanent crime’ and they invade houses in the middle of the night without judicial permission.

“This behavior,” he told us, “results in many innocents being arrested.”

What is most interesting to Antonio, amidst all this crime, is “witnessing the beginnings of a criminal mind.”

To explain what he meant, Antonio told us the story of a truck driver for CEASA, a fruit distributor. This man had been married. His wife left him. He came to Divinopolis to find her but instead found another woman addicted to drugs. He fell in love. Sold his truck. Bought drugs and became a dealer. Then, the woman left him for a man who recently got out of jail. When the other man got out of prison he found out about the former fruit truck driver who had since taken over his territory. Killed the truck driver. Now, the fruit truck driver’s son is accused of killing 13 other king pins in the area.

Switching gears, Antonio also explained the factors that make his job as a lawyer in Brazil difficult. First, he noted

“judges do not concede provisional measures.” What this means is that when a person asks for habeas corpus, for example, they are under Brazilian law supposed to be granted habeas corpus immediately. However, there are many cases where an accused man serves out his penalty before even being tried.

Antonio lamented the population doesn’t have the first idea on where they can go for more information regarding their legal rights such as habeas corpus. 2008 JusticeMaker Dr. Aziz Saliba is currently creating an educational DVD meant for the general public to instruct any individual how to write a habeas corpus and avoid illegal imprisonment in Brazil’s already overcrowded jails. Antonio noted that Aziz’s project was important and was sad to say that,

“stories I used to hear about a man writing his habeas corpus in blood and being released are Cinderella stories, they just don’t happen.”

He continued speaking about his desire to see “courses that teach judges about the problems lawyers have, to teach police about the problems judges have” and for all professions related to the justice system to be better integrated. Particularly, Antonio pointed out the problems of SETARIN, a database for arrest warrants that stops working after 5pm and is supposed to be integrating the justice centers of urban centers in and around Divinopolis. In addition to this problem Antonio noted that the Forum, a civil and criminal court here in Divinopolis, is only open from 12-5pm with all the lawyers and judges taking coffee breaks together in between.

Antonio looked to the future wishing for more “external judicial controls” such as a stronger Conselho Nacional de Justiça, which is a state organ to audit police and judiciary action. In the meantime, he is dealing with a crime wave and a slowdown in the economy which he said is often correlated with higher instances of sexual crime.

At the end of the day, Antonio puts his faith in family. He emphasized the fact that families teach children their morals and this has the biggest impact on limiting the potential for criminal behavior. In his opinion, the community must have common stories and myths to reinforce those morals.

“Decadence is related to a lack of myths,” he concluded. He held his head high and smiled, looking as if dignity itself were a myth worth posturing for.

– Bembem

(Photo by Michelle Ferng)

The police officers were too preoccupied with the dogs. They did not find the drugs. Bembem was allowed to walk out of the house with his life. Bembem is an older man who has been incarcerated so many times he lost count. He told his story of growing up in Brazil’s prison system:

“It doesn’t matter if you are in prison for one day, one week or one month, you are there one moment and you are part of the system for life.

Bembem was first arrested at age ten. His story began with his father leaving him in the trash at 6 months. Years later, he watched the same man beat his mother to death in front of him. His father sold everything in his house for drugs and alcohol. His daughter, who had frequented prisons to visit friends, was shot four times in the face in São Paulo.

Bembem described the prison environment by saying

“Rape in the cells is a big problem. Back in the military regime drugs were not a big problem. Now, do you know why more than 50% return to prison after their first offense? It is drugs. They can’t get drugs as good as they can in jail.”

For those looking for an introduction to the drug problem in Brazil’s jails, Ms. Cecilia Neves Silveira, IBJ’s in-country contact, recommended the popular film Carandiru which tells the story of drugs, sex and prisoner revolts in Brazil’s most infamous jail.

Bembem noted that young kids in the prisons come from a culture where “they kill at will.” He continued,  “Violence is scandalous. The kids come out of jail and must kill 3 in the street or be killed.”

Bembem revealed that in the jails he had to deal with sexual abuse from the other prisoners and the guards during the military regime. The guards could do anything they wanted. They were the law. Now only people who disrespect someone’s honor, or commit crimes against women and children are violated by the other prisoners.

In prison cleaning the jail cells was a daily chore. But Bembem noted,

“For some reason I never had to clean. People respected me. Wherever I walked in that prison I was respected. To this day I still don’t know why.”

Bembem now lives in Divinopolis and described his community as “very emotional. We are very attached to other people. We are very loyal.”

He now works a steady job training dogs in middle class neighborhoods. He thanks God for music saying “music was my redemption, if music didn’t enter my life I would have put a bullet in my head.”

Bembem left us with these words to describe how he felt about his community and his life:

“I hate the disloyal (…). I am a man with a heart, I don’t have time for this…You won’t understand. You’ll stay this way and never know my people. I know both sides of this city and I prefer them, my people on the street.”