On August 16, 2023, InSight Crime published an investigation into Honduras’ National Women’s Penitentiary for Social Adaptation (Penitenciaría Nacional Femenina de Adaptación Social – PNFAS), which was the scene of one of the deadliest massacres ever recorded in a female prison in Latin America. The team visited the prison for a week in April 2023 and interviewed dozens of inmates, including women linked to the Barrio 18 and Mara Salvatrucha (MS13) gangs.
In a recent Twitter Space, two of our researchers discussed the research methodology, their impressions of the PNFAS, and how they processed the news after learning of the massacre. Below is an edited transcript of the conversation.
Listen to the full conversation here and check out the PNFAS investigation here.
María Fernanda Ramírez (MFR): What was the original idea for this investigation, and why did you decide it was necessary to investigate the topic?
Victoria Dittmar (VD): We decided to investigate the PNFAS because of the massacre that had occurred there three years earlier, in May 2020. It was a very violent episode that caused trauma among the women held there, as well as the administrative staff.
When this first massacre occurred, it seemed that the authorities were taken by surprise, as if this were something unprecedented. In fact, at the time, the Penitentiary Institute’s spokeswoman told us that violence was not normal, that women prisoners are a passive population, and that it was not common for something like this to happen in a women’s prison.
And, yes, massacres in women’s prisons hadn’t been common. But what the authorities didn’t mention was the daily violence and tension that was building up in the prison, especially between opposing gangs — specifically, the Barrio 18 and MS13.
SEE ALSO: Massacre in Honduran Women’s Prison: A Tragedy Foretold
So, our main objective was to understand how these gang dynamics played out inside the prison, what role violence played, how gang rules influenced this space, and how power relations were formed there.
When the second massacre occurred, in June 2023, we had already gotten deep into the investigation, so we had to change the focus. We shifted to explaining how the conditions inside the prison laid the groundwork for another episode of extreme violence.
MFR: This investigation depended entirely on your gaining access to the prison. How did you do that? What was the position of the authorities, and how did the gangs react to your presence?
VD: The most difficult part of negotiating our access was the bureaucratic process. Our entry had to be approved by several officials from the Security Ministry and the National Penitentiary Institute (Instituto Nacional Penitenciario). The process lasted around six months.
Once we arrived at the prison, access was easier. The authorities were open to connecting us with the women prisoners and asking the coordinators of each gang for permission to speak with us.
But the weekend before our visit, there were several violent episodes linked to gangs in male prisons. Therefore, there was a great deal of distrust on the part of the women from Barrio 18, and the gang’s coordinator refused to receive us. Her response was literally, “We don’t talk to journalists.” The authorities couldn’t do much.
In contrast, the women linked to the MS13 were always open, although we still needed permission from the gang coordinator. We simply said to the authorities, “Today we would like to talk to the women in Module 1,” where the women linked to MS13 were. They took us there, and we were able to talk to the coordinator.
The authorities allowed us to enter the module but stayed outside. Their view was that it was not risky for us to be in there, locked up.
Towards the end of the week, we were able to approach Barrio 18, but only at Casa Cuna, the maternity module. We still had to talk to the coordinator — who was a member of the gang — and ask her if she agreed. When she agreed, the authorities again let us into the module, but they remained outside.
MFR: What were your impressions of the prison when you entered? What struck you most?
VD: What struck me is that the PNFAS was a contradictory prison. It’s not maximum security, so it’s not built for that purpose. It was quite open in that sense.
However, following the first massacre and the COVID-19 pandemic, the authorities had forbidden all women to leave their modules. For example, they couldn’t go out to the central courtyard, except for one hour in the morning when they were allowed to exercise. But the rest of the day they were completely locked up. Nor could they go to the medical center unaccompanied.
But what didn’t make sense was that certain women — who, we learned from interviews and observation, belonged to Barrio 18 — could walk freely through the corridors, could gather in certain areas, or approach the different modules.
The day we visited Casa Cuna, for example, there was a group of women linked to Barrio 18 who did not stop watching us and making rounds around the space where we were conducting the interviews.
Meanwhile, it was obvious that the women associated with the MS13 lived in fear. They are a minority in the prison and were quite isolated from the rest of the population. They told us that they felt insecure in the face of threats from the Barrio 18.
The metaphor of a time bomb about to explode, which we used in the investigation we published about the massacre, comes from them. It was a phrase they repeated constantly in interviews.
MFR: Tell us about Casa Cuna. How do the roles of the women in gangs contrast with their role as mothers?
VD: There were approximately 20 children in detention with their mothers when we visited the PNFAS. Children can stay in Casa Cuna until they are four years old. After that, they have to go with relatives, or they are taken in by the state. Most of the women in Casa Cuna were associated with Barrio 18.
The issue of motherhood in the PNFAS is complex and can be analyzed from many perspectives.
For example, we noticed that the women of Barrio 18 organized themselves to take care of all the children together. Both active gang members and retired gang members, or women who at some point were linked to the gang, were involved. They supported each other in the work of care and upbringing.
On the other hand, there were also women from the general population in Casa Cuna, who did not trust the gang and tried to keep their children away from them.
So we could see both sides: On the one hand, there was a community of nurturing, but on the other, fear also persisted.
During the first massacre of 2020, some of the violence touched Casa Cuna. It isn’t an oasis from the dynamics of the prison. Children are also exposed to violence.
They also face constant confinement. Just as their mothers are not allowed to leave the modules, the children are not allowed to go out either — except for that one hour of recreation each day.
MFR: What happens when these minors reach the age when they have to leave the prison?
VD: I can answer that with the example of one of the women we interviewed at Casa Cuna. She has been with the Barrio 18 her whole life, and her entire family is linked to the gang. She says she has retired, but when her son turns four years old, he will have to leave the PNFAS and will be placed in the care of her relatives. In other words, it’s very likely that he’ll grow up in the same environment that she grew up in and will be vulnerable to falling into the same criminal structures she did.
MFR: What was your impression of the PNFAS authorities?
VD: I think there are two perspectives to their role.
First, there are the people who work every day in the prison, who have a whole career within the prison system. Like those who work in the legal, social work, human resources, health, or administrative areas. These people were quite open in talking about the tension inside the prison and the rivalries between gangs. It was more evident to them when there was a problem between inmates.
SEE ALSO: Security Concerns Persist Despite Indictments for Honduras Prison Massacre
In fact, several of these people also mentioned to us that they feared that the violence in the male prisons would spread to the PNFAS. In other words, they never minimized the problem.
Then there is the other perspective of the management staff, who are the ultimate decision makers. In our perspective, this group of people seemed to underestimate the potential for violence within the prison and maintain an evasive narrative.
MFR: How did you feel as a researcher when the second massacre occurred?
VD: It was horrible. We felt a mixture of sadness, anger, and frustration. It was a traumatic event, obviously, for the whole of Honduran society, and also for us.
When the event occurred, there was a lot of misinformation and verified data took a long time to be published, like the identification of the victims.
It was quite a shock for us to learn the facts, especially knowing that many of the women had been very vocal about their concerns. They had asked the authorities to protect them.
At least five of the women we had interviewed died that day.
This transcript was edited for length and clarity.
Featured image: Women survivors in the Honduras women’s prison. Credit: Instituto Nacional Penitenciario