"Rival gangs battling over the drug trade in an overcrowded, vermin-infested prison set their bedding ablaze and blocked the entrance to their cellblock, killing at least 133 inmates in one of Latin America's worst jailhouse blazes."
— Business Week Online
March 7, 2005
I.
"The indigenous Virgin of Guadalupe is very miraculous and accompanies you wherever you go or are. This chain letter goes out to the world to give the people an image of the dark beauty of the Virgin of Guadalupe. To continue this chain, you must make thirty-five copies and share them within nine days.
"The President of Brazil received this letter and made fun of it. After nine days his son died. A lady received it and sent it, and after nine days she won the lottery. Sr. Fernandez received it, and in nine days he won ten thousand pesos. Victor Romero, although he had it in his hands, ordered his secretary to send his copies. She forgot about it, and in nine days she lost her job.
"Please don't make fun of the Virgin of Guadalupe. In nine days, you will receive a surprise."
II.
Take the ferry from Samaná, in the northeast corner of the Dominican Republic, across the bay to Sabana de la Mar, just you and the chickens and the goats and the sweating men and women and your motorcycle. Debark in desiccated Sabana de la Mar and ride your motorcycle through Miches and Nisibón to the city of Salvaleón de Higuey. Juan Ponce de León arrived here with Cristobal Colón in the Year of Our Lord one thousand four hundred ninety-three. Juan founded his lion-saving city on his way to find the Fountain of Youth, for which he possessed the royal charter.
Alfonso and Antonio Trejo, among the first Spaniards in Hispaniola, brought the portrait of Our Lady of Altagracia from their birthplace in Extremadura to the grateful town of Higuey. Twelve stars and a radiant crown framed the head of the sweet, pale virgin from Spain. Tatica of Higuey, as the people called her, wore blue, white and red, the colors of the future Dominican flag. Over the centuries, thousands of touching hands and candle smoke of innumerable votives darkened the European face of the Lady of Altagracia almost to the color of the people who worshipped her in Higuey.
III.
The black Virgin of Guadalupe sent her chain letter from Mexico to the white Virgin of Altagracia in the town of Salvaleón de Higuey on the eastern edge of Hispaniola:
"Sister, make thirty-five copies, and share them within nine days. After the ninth day, you'll have yourself another miracle. I know you're going to make fun of me, but THIS REALLY WORKS!!! Love to Dad and the Kid.
Con cariño,
Lupe."
IV.
In the Year of Our Lord two thousand five, a prison festered in Higuey. Rats the size of black cats skittered squeaking through the bars to nibble the toes of the prisoners. Five men slept in cells built for two. The Prison Director said gangs fought to control the sale of drugs, cigarettes, and food. Not even the Director was sure exactly how many men were in the place. Privately he agreed with the Human Rights Commission that Higuey was the worst prison in the country, but one had to make do with what one was given.
One night, in the cellblock called Vietnam, prisoner Alfonso of Higuey received the chain letter of the Virgin of Guadalupe. He was going to pass it on to thirty-five men, but it was hard to find a photocopier in jail. He lay on his louse-ridden mattress and picked out a needle that had worked its way out of the straw. He didn't know who would be sticking needles in his bed, unless it was that ponce León from Sabana de la Mar, who everybody knew was Antonio of Nisibón's bitch. Santos and Trejo were going to be clicking dominos all night, but it was nothing compared to those Haitian bastards banging on their bars again like tanbou drums. It sounded like the goddamned Congo in here. Haitians, he thought, they're blacks from Africa. We Dominicans, we're blacks from Spain. Those Sabana de la Mar guys are born on boats, grow barnacles between their toes, and seaweed behind their ears, but we of Higuey, with our Basilica of the Virgin of Altagracia, we know what a real city is. He closed his eyes.
Nine days later he killed Antonio of Nisibón over four packs of cigarettes and some dulce de habichuelas, setting off a napalm spark that spread like a chain letter. The men of Sabana de la Mar piled the chickenwire-and-wood frames of their beds against the only entrance to their cellblock and set fire to their mattresses. The Virgin of Altagracia presided over her grandest Auto da Fé. No one could claw his way out, nor could the drunk and sleepy rescuers break through the white-hot iron of the door to get in.
Afterward, the failed rescuers found a hundred and thirty-three bodies piled against the rubble that blocked the door. They pulled them out and laid them in front of the prison for the families to view, but the bodies were burned so black that no one could identify sons or husbands. Maria Guadalupe León came to find her son. The police sent her to a photocopy shop opposite the jail to buy a list of the men in Vietnam Cellblock for a dollar. In the prison yard, under a tarpaulin, Maria Altagracia Trejo found a corpse whose blackened hand was fused to a charred domino.
"This must be the body of my son," she said. "No one played dominos better than he did."