Every day, as the sun begins to set, casting long shadows on the gloomy concrete walls of the cell block, that moment arrives again—a sharing session, the block's 40 or so inmates returning from their hard work to gather for an hour in the common area. The sessions are meant to be a rehabilitation program, a way to encourage self-reflection, perhaps also build a little trust between the women. However, in reality, this is just another routine in their long, unchanging and boring days.
Most of the inmates have told their stories many times. There are no more secrets, nothing more to hide, no more surprising revelations. Now, they simply share what they did that day—if a guard treated them unfairly, or if another inmate crossed the line. Everything has become commonplace, almost mechanical.
But that night was different.
There was a new face among us—a middle-aged mother, nearly 60 years old. Her face is familiar to me, I know her, a mother who I have always called, I believe to be the destroyer of my life, the destroyer of my future. She had just been transferred to our block after finishing a 2 week isolation period, she looked different from most of the other inmates: tall, fat, standing straight with a low voice but with inexplicable strength. So far, she hadn't said anything about the reason she was here, but rumors had spread quickly. She is a former judge—yes, a judge, a profession that has long been seen as upholding justice, a figure who handed down sentences for many prisoners here.
Curiosity arose. Everyone knows, the story of a newcomer always attracts attention. It's our turn to uncover the mysterious layers of a person's life, to see what brought them to this dark and isolated place.
The two guards overseeing the session, looking as bored as ever, motioned for the former judge to start telling her story. "Ma'am, please start by introducing yourself and continue telling your story."
She stood up slowly, looking around the room, her eyes sweeping over the tired faces that stared at him intently. Most of us had been to these types of sessions too many times to be numb to each other's stories and backstories, but that night, everyone looked different. There was a kind of enthusiasm that rarely appeared. Everyone waited, silent in unspoken hope, listening to the story of a figure who once had power beyond our reach.
The former judge stood up slowly, taking a deep breath before starting. She scanned the room, taking in the faces waiting for him, then her eyes dared no longer look at them, falling to the cold concrete floor beneath her feet.
"My name is..." she was silent for a moment, swallowing her turbulent feelings. "My name is Herawati, you are right, I used to be a senior judge. I spent decades of my life in the courtroom, determining whether someone was right or wrong, my victory, passing judgment on my job. In that place, the power was in my hands. I was the voice that decided justice." She paused for a moment, her gaze returning sharply to the surroundings.
"Believe me, I used to obey the law, justice, and humanity. Regardless of fate, I believe that if we act correctly, follow the rules, everything will go smoothly according to plan." The other inmates exchanged cynical glances but the inmates were silent, feeling the weight of every word she said. Her eyes flashed for a moment, but remained calm. She continued, "But I... was wrong, letting greed control me. Money, position, influence, all of that became more important than justice. I realized that I had ruined the lives of many people because of my decisions that were colored by bribery."
Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room turned cold. The other inmates looked at each other, remembering their own lives destroyed by the judge's decision—and perhaps by people like him. Some faces looked angry, while others looked blank, accustomed to betrayal.
She lowered her head, her hands clenched into fists as if holding back deep shame. "When I found myself here... I realized that justice is not just about the law. It's also about humanity, and I lost both long ago."
That evening, the usually monotonous and boring sharing session turned into a moment of deep reflection. The other inmates listened intently, although some of them might still regard it with skepticism.
A woman, sitting in the corner, interjected in a sharp tone, "Justice, you say? Do you know how many people suffer because of the wrong decisions of a judge like yours? We are all here because of something unjust, yes we are guilty but you guys, Judges almost never ask and want to know the reasons behind our actions, our crimes."
The former judge nodded, taking every word in stride. "I know. And it's a burden I have to bear for the rest of my life. But here... here I can only try to improve myself, even though I can't fix what I've done to other people."
Nobody answered. They all knew, in a place like this, forgiveness and redemption were not easy things. However, that night, the former judge had opened a small door to her heart, and maybe, just maybe, one small step towards redemption had begun.
The inmates looked at the former judge with a mixture of cynicism and curiosity. Small whispers could be heard in the corners of the room, reflecting their disbelief and anger towards the system that had failed them time and time again. Now, before them, stands a former judge who should be a symbol of justice, but she is as corrupt as the system that destroyed their lives.
The former judge continued, her voice strained with suppressed anger. "You may be wondering why I am here. Why is a senior judge, who once wielded the gavel of justice, now sitting with you, lifer convicts. Do you want to know the background of my actions?" The story continues after taking a deep breath.
"I want revenge for the loss of the one I loved so much," she said in a lower voice, almost a whisper. "So, at first I started taking bribes. Not because of the money, but because it gave me an outlet for revenge, it gave me a sense of satisfaction that I couldn't fulfill in any other way. Somehow I felt satisfied sending people to prison, even though some of them weren't necessarily guilty." she took a deep breath "The urge for power became stronger, lust overcame me, I once let the guilty go, as long as they gave me something. Anything, as long as I felt I had control over this world. As if I could punish the world for what it had taken from me."
Her last words were delivered with exhaustion. She sat back, her body going limp, as if the burden of her confession was too heavy to bear. The prisoners remained silent, not knowing what to say. They were used to stories of violence and betrayal, but this was different. This is the confession of someone who once stood above them, but has now fallen deeper into the abyss of guilt and regret.
An inmate, who had previously only been listening in the corner of the room, suddenly spoke in a low but firm voice, "You think you're the only one who lost something? You think your pain is greater than ours?" Her face was stern, but there was sadness visible beneath her anger.
The former judge just nodded. "No, You don't know my pain. I know I have ruined many people's lives. But my pain cannot be erased. It is a burden I must bear until I die."
An inmate sitting in the corner, with the same scars in her life, glared at the former judge. "What do you think we are?" she asked, her tone callous, but there was a tremor of pain in it. "We're all here too because something was taken from us. But that doesn't give me the right to take other people's lives or destroy other people's lives."
The former judge raised her head slowly, wiping away her tears. "I know," she said, her voice barely audible. "I know now, but at that time... at that time, I didn't care. I just wanted the world to feel the pain I felt. I thought if I made other people suffer, my sadness would be reduced. But what happened was the opposite."
One of the inmates, a woman who had been a mother before prison took everything away, took a deep breath. "Your child died, huh? You can imagine what you feel. Losing a child is devastating. But revenge… it never heals anything, it only makes the wound deeper."
The words hit the former judge like an unexpected blow. Her eyes were wide, filled with deep shame. She looked at the woman, and there, she saw a mirror of the pain she had been hiding. Her life was ruined not only because of other people's actions, but also because of himself. She knew that the lives she ruined belonged not only to those she convicted, but also to her own life—especially after she fell into the abyss of bribery, anger, and hatred. All of that had imprisoned him long before she put on a prisoner's uniform.
Suddenly, another woman interrupted, her tone full of cynicism and disappointment. "You think we're all here for no reason?" Her eyes were narrowed, full of long-held hatred. "I've become a thief and killer because my children were hungry. I had no other choice. But you know what? You were imprisoned without anyone caring why I did it. What happens to my children? Judges like you only see black and white, right? or wrong, but never see the reason behind it all!"
The atmosphere in the room became increasingly tense. Every word that comes out digs deeper into the pain each of them is experiencing. The prisoners, who are usually used to quiet silence, are now facing each other with long-held wounds, hidden behind their dark past.
"Enough!" Madam Judge's voice suddenly broke the atmosphere, her voice trembling with anger, full of emotions that had been suppressed for years. "Twelve years ago... twelve years ago, in early January, I lost my son! My son died! My only child!" She stood up with tense movements, her voice raised, and her eyes bloodshot. The tears that had been pent up for so long now flowed freely, they couldn't be stopped any longer. "She was murdered! Murdered!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the corners of the narrow room, breaking the silence and freezing all attention. Some of the prisoners were shocked, lowering their heads, while others looked at him with cold, merciless gazes.
"His body... his corpse, found a week later, at the bottom of a mountain valley. Rotting... full of maggots! Cruel!" Her screams became more heartbreaking, full of anger and sadness that she had been harboring for too long. Her hands were shaking, grasping the collar of her shirt, as if trying to control himself but failing.
Everyone fell silent, absorbed in the tragedy she had just revealed. Nobody knew how to react. These women, accustomed to facing their own suffering, now glimpsed a different, but familiar, pain.
Disclosure
My voice, my scream, without preparation, came so suddenly, breaking the tense silence. "No! That's not true! All of that is wrong! Mrs. Hera!"
Everyone's heads immediately turned towards the source of the sound. A young girl who was always silent during this sharing session, sat in the corner of the room with her body shaking. I, Sarah Ratnawati, stood looking at Madam Herawati—a former judge whom I had only seen as a powerful figure—with a pale face and short of breath. Anxiety gripped me tightly, so strong that I felt short of breath. The other inmates, even the officer standing at the edge of the room, started glancing at me, confused by what had just happened.
"You said... your son... Doni?" My voice came out hoarse and shaky, as if bearing a burden I had been carrying for a long time. My face felt hot, blood rushed to my head, and my eyes began to water with fear that I could no longer hide. "Twelve years ago?"
Madam Herawati was stunned for a moment, her eyes which had been filled with anger were now focused on me, as if she had just realized my presence. However, just an instant later, her eyes were filled with burning anger again. Her face, which had been full of suffering, suddenly turned furious. She stood, shaking with almost uncontainable fury.
"You... that vile girl, Sarah!" she shouted, her voice shrill with hatred. Her hands were clenched into tight fists as if holding back her emotions. "You killed him! You killed Doni, my son! You ruined my life!"
Her words were like a whip that hit hard all over my body. I could only sit stiffly, unable to fight or answer. My body trembled, while the bad memories came back to the corners of my mind. My breathing became heavier, as if the world around me was getting smaller and suffocating. Her tears continued to flow non-stop, and her voice trembled with the pain she had suppressed for years.
"Punishment in this world is never enough! It never feels like justice to me!" she screamed, filled with overwhelming hatred.
Instantly, the atmosphere in the room became tense. Several prisoners remained silent, shocked to see this thunderous explosion of emotion. The others lowered their heads, feeling as if they were witnessing the collision of two mortally wounded lives.
I know it's time to face it all. It might be too late to explain, but the words had to come out. Everything I kept for years, the truth that has always haunted me since that day.
I took a deep breath, trying to control myself amidst Mrs. Herawati's angry gaze and the fear that hit my whole body. "I... I didn't kill Doni," I said finally, even though my voice was almost drowned out by the silence of the room.
The room suddenly became silent, as if the whole world stopped for a moment. Those memories... the terrible incident in the mountains... came back to hit me like a big wave that couldn't be avoided. How Doni and I fought. How anger took over me, made me leave him there alone. And when I came back, Doni was gone - disappeared somewhere. It all flowed through my mind like a nightmare that I could never forget, even though I had tried to throw it away, blame the situation, even blame my own feelings.
But now, standing in front of Madam Hera—Doni's mother—all the questions I had been holding back about what really happened that day hit me mercilessly. My eyes burned, my body trembled, and the realization that I might never get forgiveness from this woman made my heart beat faster.
The other inmates looked at the two of us in confusion and tension, as if sensing that something bigger than just a dark story from the past was being revealed again. The atmosphere in the room was so tense, it was almost unbearable. Tension hung in the air, crushing everyone in the small room.
Madam Hera's gaze pierced me deeply, her eyes were full of hatred and sorrow that she had harbored for years. My eyes and her met, and in that split second, we were both caught in an increasingly uncontrollable storm of emotions. She saw me, not as a young girl undergoing punishment, but as the source of all the suffering that had ruined her life.
I know that whatever words I say probably won't change anything. But silence won't save us either. This tension was so real, like a volcano ready to explode at any time. Everyone in the room knew that something was about to break.
But before anything could happen, before anger or regret could escape our lips, a guard's voice suddenly broke the atmosphere. "Time's up Inmates !. Get back to your cells, quick!" she exclaimed in a firm tone, cutting through the tension that had been mounting. Officers feared the tension would erupt into a violent fight. Three months ago, a mass fight occurred in the yard, where they exchanged blows, punches, fists, and kicks. Bodies slammed against the walls, and blood splattered on the ground, many were injured and bleeding. The most seriously ill among them were taken on stretchers to the prison clinic for treatment.
Hearing the officer's order, the prisoners began to move, ignoring the remaining sparks of emotion. I stood still, still feeling the remnants of tension that had not yet been released. Mrs. Hera looked at me one last time before she slowly turned around and followed the guard's instructions. But I know, this isn't over yet. This was just the beginning of something bigger that was about to happen.