Original subtitles

[Rowe] Tacumbu Penitentiary in Paraguay.

One of the most dangerous prisons on Earth.

[prisoners clamoring loudly]

It's home to 4,000 of the country's worst criminals.

From drug traffickers to murderers.

[in Spanish] I shot him with his own weapon.

Fatal riots have earned Tacumbu a reputation for brutality and bloodshed.

[in Spanish] He was killed in Tacumbu in a riot.

He was beheaded.

It's so underfunded, inmates must hustle for every dollar.

This is disgusting, man.

What-- What are you looking for?

[in Spanish] Food to sell...

And only the strongest survive.

[Rowe] Can you imagine this penetrating your skin?

[in Spanish] That's life in Tacumbu.

My name is Raphael Rowe,

and I'll be spending a week locked up in this South American prison

to see what life is like when every day is a fight for survival.

I've never seen anything like it in any prison anywhere in the world.

It's not my first time behind bars.

I was convicted in the UK of a murder I didn't commit

and sentenced to life with no parole.

It took me 12 long years to clear my name.

Now I'm traveling the world to find out what life is really like

inside some of the world's toughest prisons.

Paraguay, sandwiched between Brazil, Argentina and Bolivia,

has become one of South America's biggest drug-smuggling routes.

Here in the barrios of the capital, Asuncion...

[dog barks aggressively]

...rival gangs are locked in a bloody battle

for control of this lucrative trade.

[men speaking Spanish]

Police fight an ongoing battle to stem the flow of drugs and violence.

But with poverty rife,

the locals have little choice but to choose sides.

Many of those arrested will end up here:

Tacumbu Penitentiary, in the heart of the slums.

I'm going to spend a week inside Tacumbu.

It's connected with gang violence and faction rivalry.

So much so that in the last couple of weeks there have been riots.

So I'm quite nervous about going in there

because it's the most dangerous place in this country.

Massively overcrowded and drastically underfunded,

Tacumbu is home to some of the country's most violent criminals.

[men clamoring in Spanish]

Just a fortnight ago,

two inmates were murdered in a riot caused by a feud between warring gangs.

[men shouting angrily in Spanish]

Now, I'm going to see for myself

what it takes to survive in South America's most feared prison.

There are 35 prison guards to 4,000 prisoners

in the prison that I'm heading to,

and that bothers me, that worries me

because who is there to protect the prisoners?

Who is there to protect the guards?

And who is there to protect me?

The first step is to be checked for drugs and weapons.

Two prisoners were stabbed to death here just a fortnight ago.

So as a new arrival, I'm expecting a full-on body search.

Knives and even guns are regularly smuggled into the prison,

but still all I get, is a quick pat-down with a metal detector.

[camera clicks]

So far this year,

there's been a death every two weeks inside Tacumbu.

I have to admit, I'm unusually nervous

about what's waiting for me inside the prison.

[men clamoring, whistling]

As I enter the main body of the prison, I can't believe what I'm seeing.

It's like being in a vast, overcrowded, dangerous slum.

These men look like they're living out here.

They don't even have beds, let alone cells.

I'm thankful to be accompanied

by Tacumbu's head of security, Julio Cesar.

[Rowe] It looks very disorganized,

very threatening,

very scary.

How are you managing that as the head of security?

[in Spanish] At first glance, it's chaotic

because of the overcrowding.

We've got a population three or four times

the capacity of this prison.

For my own safety,

I'm hoping this is not where I'll be staying.

[in Spanish] This will be your cellblock.

I'm relieved when the gate shut behind us.

This is Pavilion D, one of the many blocks in Tacumbu.

These cells, housing 150 inmates,

are funded by the Catholic church,

not the drug gangs that control the rest of the prison.

But it's the inmates who are in charge here,

and they've appointed Edgar, who is serving a 25 year sentence,

to run the place.

-[Edgar speaking Spanish] -Me llamo Raphael.

[in Spanish] From now on,

you can only leave with Edgar's authorization.

[in Spanish] I make the decisions in this pavilion.

Well, to be able to stay here,

you have to follow our rules.

Anyone can apply to live here, but it's down to Edgar who gets in.

[in Spanish] Those who don't follow the rules are kicked out.

Well, I'll follow any rule I need to follow to stay here

rather than out there.

-Have you ever been to prison before? -Yes.

Have you ever killed another person while in prison?

No.

-Do you take drugs? -I don't take drugs.

Try and get on with all fellow inmates.

Uh, rapists, kidnappers, murderers, drug traffickers...

We all live in this block.

How long are you serving, Edgar?

I was originally sentenced to nine years.

And what was the crime you committed?

I'm here for drug trafficking.

They caught me with 1,500 kilograms of drugs.

Should I be scared of you?

You're the boss. You're the man who runs this place.

I am here to help and not for others to fear me.

I respect you and you respect me back.

I'm relieved when Edgar agrees I can stay in Pavilion D.

[in Spanish] I'm taking you to your cell so you can meet your cellmates.

[Rowe] Okay.

But apprehensive about who I could be sharing a cell with.

-[man in Spanish] Hi. -Justo?

[Justo] Yeah, what's up?

How are you?

Nice to meet you. Raphael.

-[in Spanish] Nice to meet you. -Nice to meet you.

[Justo] Welcome to our modest home.

Edgar has paired me with Pavilion D veterans, Diego and Justo.

This is a small space for three grown men.

[Justo in Spanish] You get used to it with time.

There are many other inmates who are way worse off than us.

[Rowe] So which one's my bed?

Yours? [laughs]

This is yours.

Oh, I got the cat-- The cat paw quilt cover.

Well, this is really nice. Isn't it? Can I try it out?

Let me see if it's comfortable?

-[laughs] - Okay, let's see how this works for me.

This is really claustrophobic, but I must say this is soft.

A lot of the guys would die for a bed like this, right?

[Diego in Spanish] Sometimes you can get killed over a mattress.

Do I have to pay for this mattress and this bedspread?

In this pavilion you don't need to pay, but you have to pay in other places.

Other places outside of this pavilion,

where you pay for your mattress and your bed.

[Rowe] Staying in this cell, I don't have to pay for it?

Yeah, but there are almost 50 regulations that you have to obey.

Because the Catholic Church funds Pavilion D,

they also set the rules,

which include going to Sunday service.

[Diego in Spanish] For example,

you can't carry any sharp weapons or knives.

It's forbidden to drink alcohol, to consume cocaine.

[Rowe] What about this one?

[in Spanish] It is strictly prohibited to urinate,

wipe your snot, and defecate on the floor.

And these are not the kind of things I do

and so I think I'll get on quite fine here.

Um, but I suppose in order for me to feel safe

in this cell with you two guys,

I need to find out a few things about you.

What you've done, how long you're serving, how long you've been in prison?

I know nothing.

[in Spanish] Now, I'm here for aggravated robbery,

but before, I was here for murder.

You're a murderer?

There's even a dead security guard

because of me.

Justo may be a murderer,

but as long as he follows the numerous rules

set down by the church in Pavilion D,

he can live in relative comfort and safety for free.

-[prisoners whistling] -[cell doors locking]

Given the way the men outside this block are struggling to survive,

it seems a price worth paying.

[buzzer sounds loudly]

[Rowe] It's really early in the morning.

It's just gone 5:30, um, but these guys are ready to go.

Bloody cockroach walking across the table.

Lack of money means guards here are outnumbered, 125 to 1,

but they still have the basics like roll call.

[guard coughs]

Roberto...

Sí, señor.

-[guard indistinct] -[man] Señor!

[guard] Partio...

One of the conditions of staying in Pavilion D

is that prisoners must work for at least four hours a day.

Raphael Rowe.

Señor!

Justo, a carpenter by trade,

offers to show me his work making traditional drinking horns.

[in Spanish] I'm going to put this on your lap,

so you don't get dirty.

Do you make them as a hobby, or are you selling these products?

Yes, I sell them.

At the moment, I spend the money on food.

How important is money to survival here in Tacumbu?

If you don't have money,

if you don't have friends, then you are nobody in life.

In this environment, in this place.

It seems that at Tacumbu, you need to pay your way.

To pay mine, I've been allocated a job in the prison kitchens,

but getting there will mean leaving the safety of Pavilion D.

Am I free to go from Pavilion D to anywhere else in the prison

I want to go?

Yes.

But to avoid violence, you have to avoid the wrong places.

Where is the wrong places?

The Tinglado where they smoke drugs.

What is your advice?

You should know when to mind your own business.

We're talking about life or death here.

It's as serious as that, is it?

Yes, it is.

To get to the kitchen,

I've got to leave this relatively safe, clean and privileged pavilion.

And get through the hellish Tinglado.

[prisoners clamoring]

The men here look underfed and desperate.

It's overcrowded,

and there don't seem to be any guards keeping control.

This feels like a dangerous, dirty, lawless ghetto.

[Rowe] And they call this The Tinglado.

It's kind of a corrugated, iron roof cover for guys that sleep out in the open.

I've never seen anything like it in any prison anywhere in the world.

The Tinglado is where you end up if you don't, or won't,

follow the rules in the pavilions.

I really can't believe what I'm seeing. Openly, in the prison yard,

these guys are just hitting the crack pipe.

They're just smoking it.

Not one, not two, but loads of these guys,

they're just wandering around looking for it and smoking it.

I can't believe what I'm seeing, to be honest.

There's no guards. There's no authority. There's nobody.

In fact, the guards that are here are doing absolutely nothing to stop them.

Inmates in the Tinglado clearly have nothing.

So I'm wondering how they survive and pay for their drugs.

[accordion plays]

As I watch, a wagon laden with prison waste arrives in the Tinglado.

From what it looks like, is that they brought this, um...

makeshift trailer where the prisoners-- Hold on a minute.

What are you doing? What are you looking for?

[in Spanish] Anything valuable.

What is in here that could be valuable?

Food to sell...

What is that?

Flour.

[both speaking Spanish]

-Flour? -Yes, flour.

Come on, help me.

He's looking for food. This guy's asked me to help him

look in this rubbish for--

Oh, that's food? Tomato?

The man's name is Esteban.

And it seems that if you've got no money at Tacumbu,

sifting through the prison's waste is how you raise it.

[in Spanish] Onion.

Oh, look.

[prisoners shouting]

This is disgusting, man.

Tomato.

-Okay, what's this? -Banana.

How much can you sell some pasta that you find in this shit for?

1,000 guarani.

Someone's gonna pay you 1,000 guarani for some pasta?

If you make it with love, it's very tasty.

What else is valuable in here that you can sell?

Soap, brushes, cigarette butts.

When you're looking for stuff here,

and there are other guys looking for stuff here,

do you fight over what you find?

There are many fights.

Now there are few people because they don't want to be on camera.

Yeah. Okay, that's fair enough.

How long have you been in prison doing this?

Scavenging through this stuff, finding things like this?

Two years.

What is the best thing you ever find in here?

Money, drugs.

There's no money or drugs in this waste today,

but Esteban seems to prize plastic bottles.

The guys are digging in here to try and find anything they can to sell.

It's a commodity.

This is the lowest of the lowest, but they can make just a fraction

of a... of a dollar to pay for their drugs.

The economy inside this prison is like nothing you've seen before,

but there is an economy.

Even for the guys scavenging in this rubbish.

Esteban may eat or sell some of the food he finds,

but dinner for most of the men is provided by the prison kitchen.

And that's where I'm supposed to be working.

[tense music playing]

-Diego? -Hola!

-Diego? -[in Spanish] Yes.

Diego is the head chef here at Tacumbu,

cooking for over 4,000 prisoners twice a day.

[Rowe] So what are you preparing for the prisoners today?

[in Spanish] Noodles. Meat with noodles.

And what can I do to help you today?

Lift these pots.

This food keeps men like Esteban alive

and the prisoners that prepare it get a regular wage,

keeping them out of the Tinglado poverty.

How much do these guys get paid?

[in Spanish] Some of them are paid $10.

Others, $15. It varies.

I get more or less $20 a week.

I believe this is the most privileged workplace

in this prison.

As well as his pay, Diego gets time off his sentence.

Three months for every year he works here.

[in Spanish] This is where we prepare the vegetables. We chop them.

[Rowe] It-- It's acceptable to most people

outside of prison that prisoners would have to have access to knives

in a kitchen to cut carrots and other bits of food that...

But I see knives out there among some of the kinda lawless people.

[in Spanish] It's normal. We all have knives here.

This is the knife I keep in here.

That's your weapon?

-Yes. -This makes it very real, doesn't it?

Can you imagine this penetrating your skin?

Can you imagine somebody using this against you?

Or you having to use this against someone to defend yourself?

That is the threat men like Diego face every day.

That's right. That's life in Tacumbu.

Have you ever witnessed somebody use a knife in the prison?

Yes. Thousands of times.

Thousands of times.

Only a few years ago,

two prisoners were killed when kitchen equipment broke down

and desperate, hungry prisoners rioted.

So there's always huge time pressure on Diego

to feed the thousands of prisoners waiting impatiently.

At what time will you feed the prisoners?

[in Spanish] Dinner is served at 5:00 p.m.

Why do you serve dinner so early?

For safety.

Because later on it gets dark and there are fewer guards around.

The inmates are left alone

and they fight, stab one another.

The rich prisoners, like my block boss Edgar,

would never lower themselves to eating this food.

But the poor prisoners eagerly queuing depend on it to survive.

And these meals are all the prison give them.

Anything else, a blanket,

clothes, they have to earn money to buy.

[Rowe] You might think handing out four buns

to desperate hands is an easy job...

[chuckles] but I'm feeling the pressure here.

I really am because it's endless.

But the containers that they're using to collect their food--

I mean, the guy's having this thing put into a bottle.

There is not a plate in sight.

It's a... It's a sad, sad sight.

But even in this chaos,

there are opportunities for inmates to conduct business.

Suddenly, Esteban's hunt for plastic bottles begins to make sense.

When... When I saw Esteban with his bag of bottles,

this dirty bag of bottles,

I thought to myself, "What the eff are you gonna do with them?"

But I've just seen him out there

getting paid buns for dirty plastic bottles.

So, what to me and you might look like... rubbish,

Esteban has got a little...

a little business going on. Unbelievable.

As the Tinglado prepares to settle down for the night,

Esteban offers to show me his sleeping arrangements.

[in Spanish] That's where my bed is, a sheet.

It's a sheet.

Why'd you keep your sheets up there?

So nobody steals them.

This is your bed space?

Yes.

I always sleep here.

If somebody come and slept in your spot, would it upset you?

Yes, we would fight.

Do you feel threatened here all the time? Is it a violent place?

It's constantly dangerous.

You wouldn't wish this upon your worst enemy.

Like many of those living in the Tinglado,

Esteban ended up inside because of his drug addiction.

Deep down inside yourself,

in your heart of hearts,

how do you really feel about the person you are today?

[in Spanish] Humiliated.

That's only here in prison.

On the outside, my family has everything, they have money.

I have to get out of here, freedom.

Conditions here are shocking

and I'm not surprised bloody riots are a regular occurrence.

With so few guards,

the most they can do is try and stop violence breaking out more often.

To find out what it's like trying to keep this place under control,

I'm joining Julio and Jose on their patrol around the prison.

[Rowe] Walking through that scrum of prisoners feels to me that every time

I walk through there, one of them wants to attack me or take something from me.

Is it as dangerous for you?

[in Spanish] In the beginning, you do.

You do feel intimidated when you first start,

but with time you get used to it and it becomes a routine.

[Rowe] What I find crazy is...

Look, I mean this guy has a knife just in his hand.

Where do they get these knives from?

This is where they rip the bars off and they sharpen their knives.

Lopez!

[speaking Spanish]

[in Spanish] Then they come here...

to sharpen the ends.

[in Spanish] They play loud music

when they're making a noise breaking them off, so...

we can't hear them doing it at night.

[Rowe] And they literally melt the plastic around the bottom of the bar

and use that as a handle.

You know what's crazy? A bar that is supposed to be keeping

these prisoners in prison are being ripped off

and used to harm other prisoners.

-Thank you for showing me. -You're welcome.

Just inside the main gates at Tacumbu,

there's a poignant reminder of how dangerous this prison can be

for the guards that work here.

-What? What is that? -[speaking Spanish]

[Rowe in Spanish] What do you call it?

[in Spanish] She's the patron saint of the guards.

The Virgin of Mercy

and these are our colleagues who died in service.

He was killed in Tacumbu in a riot.

He was killed in an ambush in a massive escape.

He was beheaded.

They cut off his head!

Yes.

And he died in a fire here.

A fire that was started by the prisoners during the riot?

Yes.

When the riot started, he was taken hostage.

And he was shot.

And so, what's... What's the purpose of the shrine?

I appreciate that it's there so people can come and say prayers for him.

Why is it here inside the prison?

We made it so everybody who comes in sees it.

With so few guards to police so many violent prisoners locked in here,

I'm not sure I'm even safe in Pavilion D.

[Rowe] Although I'm in this pavilion

and it's a lot more secure than what it is out there,

is there a threat that they can get into here?

You know, some of those desperados, those guys who need and want their drugs?

[in Spanish] Chances are slim.

The guys here have everything, they have their knives everywhere.

So if there's trouble, or danger,

the guys bring them out to defend themselves.

That's good to know.

A riot broke out at a nearby prison recently

and spread to Tacumbu.

The guards withdrew,

leaving Pavilion D inmates to defend their block.

Would I be expected to get involved in protecting the pavilion?

[in Spanish] Yes, that's the law of the prison.

Because if there are riots, the guards leave

and the inmates take charge.

No cameras,

no press, no guards, no directors,

nobody gets inside.

Fuck me.

It's not surprising that men riot over the terrible conditions in the Tinglado.

In Tacumbu, as in the outside world, money buys you a better life

and people will go to extremes to protect what's theirs.

It's my third day inside Tacumbu.

'Cause you can come, you can brush your teeth,

you can wash your face, you can shower,

but you never feel clean.

Just something about this place,

the smell, the dirt, the crumbliness of the whole prison...

No matter how many times you wash,

how many times you try and keep yourself clean,

I feel dirtier and dirtier every day I'm here.

But at least I'm inside Pavilion D,

a world away from the hell outside.

The only thing that separates us in here

from them out there is money.

I'm amazed to discover that my block boss, Edgar,

runs his own laundry business.

What would it cost me to have everything that I've got on cleaned

and returned to me?

[in Spanish] Everything you're wearing would cost you 33 cents.

But because we're friends, would I get a discount?

No, there are no discounts or credit here.

Can prisoners make enough money in here

to become wealthy?

My income from my businesses here

is around 3 million per week,

approximately $500 of profit.

Five hundred dollars a week?

So for some people, they're better off in prison than they are on the outside.

Yes.

I made less money outside than I do here.

When I got into trouble, I lost my house and everything I owned.

After six years in prison, working legally here,

I was able to buy a new house for my family.

It seems incredible that prisoners can earn so much cash

whilst being incarcerated for their crimes.

Pavilion D is just one small part of Tacumbu.

And I'm shocked to discover that there's an entire section of the prison

where inmates can set up and run their own business.

With so little funding from the government,

private enterprise is encouraged throughout the prison

by the authorities.

What-- What is it that you're making?

[in Spanish] I am making a pionona.

Pionona is like a croissant filled with toffee.

This area is called the marketplace and they've got everything here.

It's like walking into another world. I mean, this is crazy.

There are restaurants for men with money who don't like the prison food.

A barbershop, a computer technician,

and even a carpenter who makes bespoke furniture for wealthy prisoners.

But unlike Pavilion D, running a business or living here

doesn't come for free.

To stay in this part of the prison is considered a privilege

because you have to have the means to stay here.

For example, it would cost you $150 a month

to sleep on the floor in this space.

Anywhere between $500 and $650,

it would cost you to sleep in one of the rooms

that they've made behind there.

And the guards are in on it, so they take a cut.

But the prisoners run it.

[Latin American music plays]

This place is crazy.

Like a mini-town within the prison,

where enterprising prisoners are seizing the chance

to make themselves some money.

There are even pool bars for the inmates who can afford it.

How're you doing?

[in Spanish] My name is Raphael.

-Pablo. -Pablo.

-[in Spanish] Very good. -[in English] Can I give you a game?

It looks like you're setting up.

-Good, perfect. -Okay.

Okay. So where's my stick?

-This one? -Yes.

Oh!

I'm moving. Okay?

You worried?

You worried?

Do you own a shop or anything in here?

I do.

I'm a tattoo artist.

I should have guessed, right?

[chuckles] I should have guessed.

Pablo offers to take me on his next tattooing job.

As he collects his equipment from his room,

which he pays $350 a month for,

I'm struck by the irony of prisoners having to lock their own cells.

Before he sets up, I'm keen to find out how he ended up here.

[Rowe] You've got a lot of tattoos yourself,

in particular the teardrops on your eyes.

What do they represent?

[in Spanish] It represents all the suffering

I've lived with since I was born.

You've obviously had a hell of a life story

'cause you've got a lot of tattoos.

My life story is complicated.

Pablo killed his father, who he alleges was abusive.

[in Spanish] I decided to confront him.

He was a very powerful person, very wealthy.

He said that no one would believe me.

Because he was very wealthy.

I decided to stand up to him and he started to threaten me.

I shot him with his own weapon.

Do you regret doing what you did, Pablo?

I do regret it. He was my father.

What were you eventually convicted of in the courts, Pablo?

I'm in here for murder.

First-degree murder.

Twenty years.

Pablo's client today is the boss of this block.

So no pressure.

[Rowe] What tattoo are you having?

-[man in Spanish] A dry tree. -Take your shirt off.

What kinds of tattoos do you do more than anyone or...

[Pablo in Spanish] I always give them ideas

that suit their personalities.

Feel like giving it a go?

Are you up for it?

I... [splutters]

You know it's gonna be spoiled, right?

You know I'm not gonna be able to-- I've never done this before, so...

You... You are taking such a risk.

No. You can do it. It's pretty easy. I'll talk you through it.

Let me--

-[chuckles nervously] -[Pablo laughs]

You're smiling. If I was you, I wouldn't be smiling.

[tattoo machine buzzes]

I can imagine that botching the permanent body art

of a high-ranking inmate is an occupational hazard.

All right. That's enough.

I'm getting carried away. I'm thinking I'm doing a good job.

And that's not bad though, is it? That look bad?

[in English] Not bad.

I'm relieved to return the tattoo needle to Pablo.

Leaving Pablo in the marketplace,

I'm struck by how this town in a prison

is giving inmates the means to lead a life away from crime.

It's rehabilitation by accident for the lucky few.

Back on Pavilion D,

Justo's finished work, and he is heading off to the gym.

He says he has a friend there he'd like me to meet.

In the well-used prison gym,

Justo introduces me to his sparring partner, Richard.

Hi.

How do you know each other?

[in Spanish] We met in jail.

[in Spanish] We were roommates.

Okay, so did you learn to box while you was in prison?

The truth is that I was a professional boxer when I was outside.

Richard, do you have a nickname?

Do they call you something?

Yes. My father, who was a boxer, too, was known as the Panther,

so I was called The Little Panther.

However, now that I'm a grown-up, they called me Panther.

But I grew apart from him when I fell into criminality.

My dad was heartbroken

and wasn't proud of me anymore.

Do your family visit you? Does your dad come and see you?

Yes, he came once.

I don't know how many years ago, maybe four years. He came once.

The reason why I want to get on track again

is that I want to reach my father's level.

I want to reach the goal my father had set for me

before I got into criminality.

That's what I'm showing tomorrow.

You're in prison. Where are you going tomorrow?

Tomorrow, for the very first time in history,

I'll fight for the South American Championship

inside this prison.

You're fighting... tomorrow...

for the South American Championship?

No way.

Exactly.

God.

In fact, Richard's comeback has less to do with God

and more to do with Tacumbu's prison director

who's financed Richard's comeback over months of training.

He's even secured sponsorship

and got the event televised live from the prison.

Ding-ding!

-[prisoners laughing] -[Rowe imitates crowd cheering]

Good luck.

Good luck tomorrow.

[exhales deeply]

I wish the Panther well, but from what I've seen of Tacumbu,

the prison would be better off spending precious time and money

trying to eradicate the violence and rampant drug-taking.

It's a point I'm keen to put to the man responsible,

Prison Director Jorge Fernandez.

How do you tackle the drug problem that runs through this prison?

[in Spanish] Yes, we're working on that.

We have recently requested from the government

more funding for guards.

When we get a sufficient number of guards,

we will be able to avoid these scenarios that you're talking about.

We have proposed building a rehabilitation center.

The problem is that our justice system believes that they should be in prison

and not in rehab.

However, we've improved the food.

If these people didn't eat well,

their average lifespan was only about one year.

The only way they can survive is eating good food.

But with money in such short supply,

I'm keen to know why the director is investing so much

in the Panther's comeback.

Your... Your involvement in the Pantera's fight,

is that a sign that there is hope among this mess, among this chaos?

[in Spanish] Yes, for sure.

This month he should be having his parole approved.

With effort and dedication,

he'll leave here and he'll reintegrate into society, for sure.

And-- And that in itself is an achievement, is it?

That one man among 4,000...

bringing hope to others.

Yes, to help him accomplish his dream

and place him as a role model to the other inmates.

Unfortunately, with the amount of people we have, the time that we have,

we can't give everyone a chance.

Only those we consider capable of working outside.

So they could have a job and survive out there

with the skills they learned in prison.

Some inmates have managed to turn Tacumbu into a money-making opportunity,

learning business skills along the way.

But it's necessity driving this informal rehabilitation,

and I'm not sure I buy into the director's belief

that the Panther will inspire all the prisoners.

But his fight is certainly going to be quite a show.

It's my final day at Tacumbu,

and I'm amazed to find that this morning,

the prison is even more crowded than usual.

This is one of four weekly visitors' days.

[Rowe] This is really strange

because traditionally, prisoners have visits in visiting halls

where the guards can observe what they're doing

so no contraband gets in.

Here,

their visitors are in the very place where they're locked up overnight.

Three thousand relatives have arrived to see their loved ones.

It's an opportunity for enterprising inmates

to make a little pocket money.

My cellblock boss, Edgar, is no exception.

Edgar, how're you doing?

-[in Spanish] Hi, Raphael! How are you? -Good to see you.

-Good? -Are you well?

[in English] Yeah, yeah.

You're working today.

[in Spanish] I am working. It's visiting day, we're making food.

Okay, so you're not having visits. You're just providing food for visitors?

No, I do have a visitor. She is my missus, she works with me.

-Oh, this is your wife? Ah! -Yeah.

-Hello. -Hello.

Are you doing something at the moment?

You want me to do something?

I need help here.

Okay. What do you need me to do?

You are going to deliver food.

I popped in to see Edgar for one minute and he's put me to work straight away.

Edgar is a shining example

of the prison director's do-it-yourself philosophy.

With thousands of hungry guests,

he's launched a successful food business...

with its own kitchen-to-cell delivery service.

It looks like I'm going to a special cell, actually.

Hola! Ah, you're welcome.

-Hola! -[man speaks Spanish]

[Rowe] Okay?

You know, that looked like a really posh kingpin's cell, you know?

That was a big...

What looked like the, um...

you know, the presidential suite.

One happy customer.

[Edgar in Spanish] I'm going to count it.

Maybe not in South America, but in the world outside of Paraguay,

people would find this bizarre and strange

that your wife and yourself are allowed

to run a restaurant in the prison selling food,

handling real money.

It's not that strange. Because if we don't work,

there's no money.

And we have kids to feed.

How did you and Edgar meet? Did you meet, um, on the outside?

Were you married on the outside, or did that all happen with you in prison?

[in Spanish] Here, we met here.

-Oh, you met together in prison? -Yes.

Oh, really?

How did that come about?

Because you don't just wander down the prison corridor and get chatted up

by Edgar, did you? No.

So how did you meet Edgar in the first place?

No, I didn't come here looking,

neither did I expect to find my husband here,

but it happened.

You're a brave woman.

The fear is always present, but what can you do?

I have to come.

What do you think is going to happen when he comes out?

Because there will come a time when he's released

and all this will be left behind.

Our idea is to set up this kind of business on the outside.

So it's slowed down a little bit. So can I take my break now, boss?

[in Spanish] Yes.

Have I passed the test though? Will I be paid?

I suppose so.

You're a tough boss, man.

Good luck, Teresa.

This guy's tough.

Is it a good thing? Of course, it's a good thing.

He's earning legal money inside a prison.

A prison that hasn't the resources to provide him with anything.

So he's doing it himself and that in itself has got to be praised.

His wife is in here.

Is she safe? How dangerous is it?

She is aware of the risk, and she's prepared to take those risks,

because she believes that what they've got going on here

will change his life when he gets outside, and that's all that really matters.

Edgar may have had to rehabilitate himself,

but I feel he has a good chance of turning his life around.

Now, as the sun sets over Tacumbu,

it's almost time for the Panther's shot at redemption.

The security is really high tonight. They've got some Special Force guys here.

Um, but I'm gonna go in and see how they're preparing

for what's gonna happen in the next couple of hours

He's looking pretty, pretty relaxed.

I don't want to interfere. You focus.

The fight itself is in a hall right next-door to Tacumbu.

A few inmates have been allowed to attend and will sit alongside

members of the public, high-profile politicians,

and specially-invited guests.

Richard is still hoping his estranged father,

the Panther Senior, will be one of them.

[in Spanish] I'm grateful for those who made this possible.

To the people God put upon my path to make this tournament come true.

To my dad, who has been the driving force for me to...

And right on cue,

his father, who he hasn't seen for four years, arrives.

[man in Spanish] Here is your dad for you, Panther.

Oh!

[reporter in Spanish] You can see this is an emotional moment

[crowd applauds]

How could I doubt becoming the champion

when I have been given this gift.

[fight official announcing in Spanish]

With sponsorship from a major gas company,

the fight is being transmitted live to the nation.

[boxing bell rings]

[intermittent shouting]

After the fatal riots of a fortnight ago,

Tacumbu finally seems to be gaining media attention for the right reasons

as Prison Director Fernandez was hoping.

[audience shouting]

Prisons are usually geared towards either punishing or rehabilitating.

But here, inmates must rely on their own strength of will to survive.

Maybe it's the desire to show his dad,

or maybe prison life has focused Panther's hope of a better future...

[audience cheers]

...but he demolishes his opponent after just two rounds.

[cheering, whistling]

[Rowe] Well done, man. Well done.

You did The Panther proud. Well done!

The Panther's victory may succeed in raising the prison's profile,

but without serious funding,

surely Director Fernandez can only manage Tacumbu's deep-rooted problems,

not solve them.

[metal door screeches]

[exhales heavily]

That's the end of my time in Tacumbu.

The prison director is doing the best he can to improve

the conditions in this complex, wild, and dangerous prison,

but keeping inmates alive and the murder count down

is probably the best he can achieve.

For me, prison should be about turning men out better

than what they entered.

But with so many prisoners carrying knives

and allowing drugs as the price for peace,

probably the best thing for Tacumbu is to raze it to the ground.