Going Backstage

As the guards escorted us, we backtracked to the last intersection of the forlorn concrete tunnel and walked to a pair of heavy metal security doors that looked like they could withstand a hand grenade, not that I’d ever detonated a grenade.

“Turn left,” one guard instructed us as another entered a code on a keypad.

I turned back to facing the doors as I heard a “clunk” sound and two of our guards opened them.

As we were led in, I looked around the room and saw what seemed to be the backstage of some theater or opera house. There were dozens of cables and wires snaking up and down the wall to the left and what seemed to be counterweights that could be used if something was to be suspended mid-air. To the right, however, it looked more like a zoo, with the ubiquitous concrete extending to form three sides of a dozen little rooms, each with thick glass panels and a glass door on the front.

I didn’t get a chance to look into the other eleven cells as Garotinha and I were led to the first cell and ushered in with four other women. The guards locked the door behind us and we were left in the glass and concrete box.