The flour hangs in the air like snow. Thick, white, everywhere. On the floor, on the shelves, on the hair of Stanisław Nowak, who for forty-five years has been getting up at three in the morning to bake bread for his district. He is seventy-two years old, but his hands – wrinkled, covered in burn scars – move with the precision of a surgeon.
Rodrigo’s Shadow: A Life Forged in Crime
For a mere 4,000 pesos a week, Rodrigo, a young man now serving his second incarceration at the Center for Social Reintegration for Adolescent Offenders (Cersai) No. 2, engaged in kidnapping and torture in Ciudad Juárez. His story, a chilling testament to the allure of easy money and the brutal realities of organized crime, unfolds within the walls of a facility striving for rehabilitation.
In an exclusive interview with EL UNIVERSAL, Rodrigo, whose identity remains protected for security reasons, recounts his first brush with the law at 15, following his involvement in a homicide at just 14. Though his initial sentence was brief, his release only propelled him deeper into the criminal underworld, where he became a ‘caretaker’ and torturer of kidnap victims in safe houses. Now, at 19, he faces a second sentence at Cersai, sharing his fate with 81 other young individuals convicted of crimes ranging from murder and kidnapping to sexual violence, robbery, and even feminicide.
The Lure of the Streets: Bad Company and Easy Money
Authorities point to a confluence of factors driving youth into criminal activity: drug use, dysfunctional home environments, negative peer influence, the promise of quick cash, and lenient sentences for young offenders. Rodrigo, clad in a grey uniform, his gaze calm and tinged with embarrassment, attributes his descent into organized crime to ‘bad company.’
With a slender build and a remarkably composed demeanor, he now contemplates reintegrating into his family and daily life. Yet, he asserts, he harbors no regrets for his past actions before his confinement at Cersai. “It’s the bad friendships, the social circle you hang out with. At first, it was mostly adrenaline; you enjoyed it. But when you’re here, you start to think. I didn’t appreciate my mother, my family, because I was involved in criminal activities.”
Rodrigo grew up in the Aztecas neighborhood, one of the city’s most volatile areas. He claims it was his childhood friends from the neighborhood who gradually drew him into crime. He insists his mother and family were unaware of his illicit activities. “At first, I wasn’t doing drugs or anything. When I was 15, I started taking pills, but that was it. It made me disconnect from the world; your mind is in another place; you don’t think about what you’re doing. The most severe thing I did was torture people. It was part of the job.”
He recalls living without fear, but with an acute awareness of his surroundings to evade arrest or assassination. “It wasn’t until a job went wrong that I was arrested. When you get here, you think the worst – a 20 or 25-year sentence. But then they explain how the system works,” he adds.
Now, his days begin at 5:30 AM and end in the evenings, with his mother visiting on weekends. Rodrigo has one year and four months left of his sentence at Cersai, a period he intends to use for rehabilitation, hoping to rebuild his life. Upon release, he dreams of continuing his education, even pursuing a degree in Customs Administration at university.
“I feel good about being here. A normal day is going to my activities, like school, domes [patios], playing sports. It’s a second chance… I want to get out of the circle I was in, not go back to the same friends… Three of my childhood friends have already been killed,” he shares. From his experience, he advises adolescents to steer clear of crime and friendships that could lead them astray. “I don’t regret it; what’s done is done. There’s no going back [to crime]. I would think more before acting, and here, even if they say it’s a four-year sentence, it helps, and it’s better than a 25 to 50-year sentence.”
A Glimmer of Hope: Rehabilitation at Cersai
Denisse Lysett Lozano Aubert, director of Cersai No. 2 in Ciudad Juárez, reveals that the facility houses 68 males and 13 females. She explains that 95% of the male residents are there for drug use and crimes such as kidnapping, homicide, robbery, feminicide, illegal possession of firearms, and rape. The female residents are primarily incarcerated for kidnapping, often at the behest of family members or partners, where they were tasked with guarding kidnap victims.
“Everyone arrives with different perceptions. Many are very fearful when they enter a juvenile detention center. We create individual plans for everyone, which provide us with the tools to work with them during their time at Cersai,” states Lozano Aubert.
Lozano Aubert emphasizes that a young person’s involvement in crime in this border city is intrinsically linked to their social circles and early life experiences. “Each case is different. Some replicate behaviors they’ve witnessed at home, and that’s all they know. Therefore, they don’t know how to act differently. Others are drawn in by criminal groups that exploit their realities and needs, such as abandonment by a father or mother. But primarily, it’s also drug use, criminal groups, and abandonment.”
The reintegration program at Cersai focuses on providing tailored treatment for adolescents. The maximum sentence, even for serious crimes like homicide or kidnapping, is only five years. Cersai operates on a socio-educational model, offering primary, secondary, and high school education. They have partnerships with institutions like Conalep for high school-level education, with 25 students currently enrolled. Furthermore, a partnership with the Autonomous University of Ciudad Juárez (UACJ) offers a 100% scholarship to graduates of the center who wish to pursue higher education.
In parallel, Cersai collaborates with civil society organizations to provide workshops on theater, crime prevention, and religious and spiritual support groups. They also offer vocational training in carpentry, soap making, hairdressing, and even a greenhouse where adolescents cultivate and sell produce to generate income for the facility.
These initiatives aim to foster an understanding of the circumstances that led them to commit crimes. “There are others who we may not achieve the goal of reintegration with, because they are already deeply immersed in different situations, and once they leave here, they lack support networks and continue in the same patterns. Generally, we do see a radical change: discipline, behavior, emotional control,” comments Lozano Aubert.
Cersai’s dedicated team includes two psychologists, a social worker, a criminologist, three teachers, nurses, dentists, and a doctor. Additionally, 52 security and custody officers from the State Public Security Secretariat ensure the well-being and safety of the adolescents.
In the greenhouse, the incarcerated adolescents cultivate food that they sell to generate economic resources for the facility. This hands-on experience not only teaches them valuable skills but also provides a sense of purpose and contribution.
The Unwritten Future: A Path to Redemption
Rodrigo’s story is a stark reminder of the complex interplay of societal factors, personal choices, and the potential for redemption. While his past is marked by violence and regret, his present at Cersai offers a fragile hope for a different future. The challenges are immense, and the path to true reintegration is fraught with obstacles. Yet, within the structured environment of Cersai, and with the support of dedicated professionals, young individuals like Rodrigo are being offered a second chance – a chance to break free from the cycle of crime and build a life rooted in education, purpose, and peace.
The question remains: will society be ready to embrace them upon their return, offering the support and opportunities necessary for genuine change? Only time will tell if the seeds of rehabilitation sown within Cersai will blossom into a future free from the shadows of the past.
