Heartbreaking Tragedies: Mothers Convicted of Homicide for Stillborn Babies in a Country with Strict Abortion Laws

Visitors to El Salvador's capital are welcomed by a sign at a bright and airy two-story house. The sign requests that visitors enter with a smile and informs them of an invisible bag where they can temporarily deposit their sorrows. Upon leaving, visitors have the choice to take their sorrows with them or leave them behind.

Teodora Vásquez acknowledges that the women who seek refuge, assistance, or a new beginning here typically carry the burden of decades filled with sorrow. Understanding this, she has placed a sign next to a green plastic turtle near the entrance, symbolizing the initial stride towards the healing she aspires these women will discover within these very walls.

For a quarter of a century, abortion has been prohibited under all circumstances in El Salvador, with no exceptions. Similarly, it has been almost the same amount of time since legislators enacted a constitutional amendment affirming that life commences at conception.

Vásquez was one of over 180 women who, according to advocates, were wrongly convicted of crimes following obstetric emergencies such as miscarriages and stillbirths since the implementation of the revised penal code and constitutional amendment. Activists caution that these cases demonstrate the severe consequences of criminalizing abortion. Vásquez herself was found guilty of aggravated homicide and spent over a decade in prison before her 30-year sentence was commuted by El Salvador's Supreme Court in 2018.

While giving a virtual tour of her home via Zoom, Vásquez highlights the serene garden courtyard, which starkly contrasts the crowded environment of Ilopango women's prison where she spent more than a decade. Despite the physical distance, the impactful memories of her prison experiences always remain at the forefront of her thoughts, emphasizing the significance of assisting others who have shared similar hardships.

Vásquez's residence serves not only as her home but also as the base for Mujeres Libres El Salvador, an organization she established. The organization's name, translated as "free women" in Spanish, perfectly reflects the legal status of Vásquez and the other four residents of the house. Similarly, the dozens of women who have traveled for hours to participate in workshops at this location are also considered free women.

Similar to Vásquez, courts have granted their release from prison in recent years. However, obtaining another form of freedom has proven to be more challenging.

"We have experienced a dual conviction. The initial one imposed by the judge," explains Vásquez, "followed by another one from society. This, in essence, is a lifetime sentence. From the moment you enter prison, you carry it with you for the rest of your life. ... Even after death, you will be remembered solely for being a prisoner."

Supporters stood outside the courthouse while a judge reviewed Vásquez's case in 2017, holding signs that said, "Teodora deserves to be back home."

In recent years, the cases of Vásquez and other women have ignited worldwide protests, garnered appeals from the UN's leading human rights official, and captured Hollywood stars' attention.

However, in 2021, Salvadoran lawmakers reaffirmed the country's ban on abortion, a decision that is widely supported by Catholic and evangelical Salvadorans. This is one of the factors that motivates Vásquez and other women to continue sharing their stories, despite the pain they may cause. As members of Mujeres Libres, Vásquez explains that their objective extends beyond personal healing; they also strive to achieve a broader goal.

"We want to make sure our history doesnt repeat itself in future generations," she says.

The extreme injustice jumps off the page

Vásquez experienced a sudden sharp pain while working at the school café in July 2007. At that time, she was nine months pregnant and eagerly anticipating the birth of her baby girl, as she already had a young son. Vásquez shares that she had already purchased clothes for her daughter.

As the pain intensified, she called 911 multiple times asking for help. Vásquez says the help she needed never came.

She says she fainted in a bathroom and was unconscious when she gave birth.

Amnesty International stated in a 2016 report that she regained consciousness while experiencing heavy bleeding and the baby had unfortunately died. Subsequently, upon the arrival of the police, she was apprehended.

Vásquez says that initially she, like others, was accused of having an abortion.

Vásquez arrives in court in December 2017. Her push to appeal her sentence drew international attention.

Salvador Melendez/AP

"Later on, the classification was revised to aggravated homicide," she explains. "Consequently, according to the Salvadoran authorities, our children were considered to have been born alive and deliberately killed by us."

In January 2008, she received a 30-year prison sentence.

Vasquez's case, along with similar cases, drew the interest of Jocelyn Viterna, a professor at Harvard University specializing in sociology and chairing Studies of Women, Gender, and Sexuality. Viterna has dedicated decades of research to understanding the repercussions of abortion restrictions in El Salvador.

"When delving into these cases, the glaring injustice becomes glaringly obvious," Viterna remarks. "These women had not engaged in any activity that violated the law, yet the legal system was systematically poised to incriminate them at every turn."

According to Viterna, many cases involve financially disadvantaged women who were alone during childbirth. Unfortunately, their babies were either stillborn or passed away shortly after birth due to uncontrollable circumstances. Viterna explains that subsequent autopsies often relied on the controversial "lung float test," an outdated method for investigating allegations of infanticide, discredited by numerous medical experts dating back to the 17th century. Advocates in the United States caution that the cases of Salvadoran women serve as a significant example of the prosecutions they fear will increase following the Supreme Court ruling last year, which overturned the federal constitutional right to an abortion.

Some of them met behind bars

Inside the prison, it was a lengthy process for the women to locate one another, considering the large number of detainees. The offense they were found guilty of, namely the tragic act of infanticide, brought upon them an immense disgrace, causing them to refrain from acknowledging it openly. Any unfortunate soul who dared to speak of it faced brutal physical abuse from their fellow inmates.

The crime carried out by Vásquez and her fellow women, involving the taking of their babies' lives, held such a powerful stigma that initially, it was not discussed within the confines of the Ilopango women's prison, where a significant number of them were incarcerated.

Benedicte Desrus/Sipa

"We were already friends, but nobody was talking about our cases," Vásquez says in "Fly So Far," a 2021 documentary that follows her story.

After a group of human rights lawyers met with them collectively, the detainees finally recognized the commonalities in their cases. In response to the mounting protests by advocacy groups demanding their release, the documentary illustrates the moment when the imprisoned women selected Vásquez to represent them as their spokesperson. Alongside her own struggle to overturn her conviction, she also raised her voice in support of the others' dire situation.

The stories of Vásquez and the other women I met in 2017 deeply moved me, and the extent of the cruelty they have endured is heart-wrenching," expressed Zeid Raad Al Hussein, the former UN High Commissioner for Human Rights. Zeid also noted a disturbing pattern of targeted incarceration among women from impoverished and marginalized backgrounds, which exemplifies the injustice they face. He urged authorities to reexamine these cases.

However, in predominantly Catholic and evangelical Christian El Salvador, the women's testimonies were met with doubt and animosity. As global pressure intensified, the former director of El Salvador’s Institute of Legal Medicine conveyed to the media that the imprisoned women, famously referred to as "The 17," faced charges of infanticide rather than obstetric complications or abortions - a stance he reiterated in a recent CNN interview.

Dr. José Miguel Fortín Magaña, a psychiatrist who resigned as director of the institute in 2015, affirms the scientific validity of autopsies conducted by his staff. He argues that critics of the testing overlook the additional analysis that was performed. According to him, these cases have gained significance due to their political nature, which often hinders the pursuit of truth.

Following an anti-abortion rally in April 2018, religious activists came together to engage in prayer in the capital of El Salvador. The proposal to decriminalize abortion faced strong opposition from individuals in the predominantly Catholic and evangelical Christian country, who expressed doubt and animosity towards the narratives shared by Vásquez and other women.

A month after meeting with the UN's top human rights official in 2017, Vásquez's conviction was upheld by an appeals court in El Salvador. Once again, the UN's human rights office denounced El Salvador's laws as "draconian."

Two months later, the sentence of Vásquez was commuted by 11 justices from El Salvador's Supreme Court. They stated that the evidence presented in the case failed to substantiate her involvement in terminating her baby's life.

After over a decade of imprisonment, she was released in February 2018. A jubilant crowd of supporters eagerly awaited her outside the prison gates. Among them were her parents and her son, who was a teenager at the time, all eagerly waiting to embrace her.

But even after winning her hard-fought release, finding true freedom was harder than she expected.

A search for support led to a surprising realization

Vasquez entered prison with only a third-grade education. Throughout her incarceration, she dedicated herself to education and managed to obtain her high school diploma. However, upon her release, Vasquez discovered that the coursework she completed in prison was insufficient in helping her navigate the digital world.

"I was completely unfamiliar with computer usage," she confesses.

Vasquez registered for a computer course and promptly joined college. However, she expresses her difficulty in reintegrating into society.

"I began to ponder, if I'm struggling with this, how are the women who were released before me managing?" Vasquez questions. "What steps have they taken to overcome it?"

Vásquez embarked on a quest to uncover the truth. Following her release from prison, she gathered a group of 16 women to conduct in-depth interviews about their individual experiences. To her astonishment, she discovered that numerous individuals continued to endure hardships long after their release.

A portion of these women encountered rejection from their own families, while many others faced difficulties securing employment due to their past criminal records.

Mujeres Libres was born from the conversations with women who had experienced challenging situations, some of whom had been released from prison for eight years. Vásquez felt compelled to make a change not only for herself but also for future women coming out of prison.

In May 2022, Vásquez joins her companions from Mujeres Libres, sitting together as they strive to support women who have recently been freed from incarceration due to obstetric emergencies. Additionally, their efforts extend to enlightening Salvadoran youth, aiming to prevent recurrent history from unfolding.

Vásquez proudly showcases the vibrant blue bunk beds in the rooms as she guides CNN through the headquarters in San Salvador during a Zoom interview. The house serves as a temporary residence for individuals from rural areas who are in town for appointments, while others choose to live here in order to access the city's abundant job opportunities.

During the weekdays, the house remains tranquil and peaceful; however, weekends witness a bustling hive of activity, as affirmed by Vásquez. Women from various regions of the country travel for hours to attend counseling sessions and workshops on subjects such as playwriting and women's rights.

As time goes by, the pool of potential members appears to expand consistently.

According to the Citizen Group for the Decriminalization of Abortion in El Salvador, over 60 women who were prosecuted following obstetric emergencies have been liberated since 2009.

Jacqueline Castillo, a 35-year-old woman wrongfully convicted of attempted homicide after her baby was delivered in a latrine during an obstetric emergency, expresses that she has been learning to become more vulnerable. She states, "This has aided me in releasing certain burdens."

After being released from prison last year, Castillo has been attending computer classes at the Mujeres Libres house. These classes have not only equipped her with computer skills but have also boosted her self-assurance to begin envisioning a future for herself. Currently working as a domestic worker, Castillo aspires to establish her own restaurant one day.

"It's truly remarkable, as it allows you to release your burdens and focus on something entirely different, something optimistic," she shares. "You gain knowledge and have the opportunity to pass it on to others."

The women are students. They also see themselves as teachers

Jocelyn Viterna points at an anatomy chart on her computer screen as Vásquez and other members of Mujeres Libres look on.

The Harvard professor has been studying the cases of these women and analyzing the consequences of El Salvador's abortion restrictions for a number of years. However, during the fall season on Wednesday evenings, she is taking on a different role: she is teaching them as their instructor.

Following Vásquez's and other Mujeres Libres members' request, Viterna is organizing a weekly Zoom course on gender, sexuality, and reproductive health.

Today's lesson covers the anatomy of the female sexual and reproductive system, along with its correlation to sexual pleasure. Concluding her presentation, Viterna engages with the class, asking, "What are your thoughts? Why do you believe that discussing this topic is often perceived as shameful?"

Vásquez is the first to raise her hand, offering her insight. "I believe our culture and the teachings of our parents play a significant role," she says.

Currently, Vásquez and the other women are students. However, they aspire to become educators, sharing these valuable lessons with Salvadoran youth during a series of presentations scheduled to kick off next month.

To bring about change, it is crucial to commence educating the population. By doing so, individuals can become more aware, take necessary actions, and overcome ignorance. This is the key to transforming the current situation.

The group intends to showcase their experiences through a documentary screening, a theatrical performance, and facilitation of discussion sessions.

According to Vásquez, there has been evidence of a change in El Salvador. She mentions that fewer women facing obstetric emergencies are facing legal consequences, following a ruling from the Inter-American Court of Human Rights in 2021. The ruling mandated the government to provide doctors with professional secrecy protection. This modification eliminates the obligation for doctors to report potential abortion cases. Previously, medical personnel felt compelled to report patients due to concerns about facing charges or penalties.

Advocates are also optimistic that a separate case currently awaiting the court's judgment could potentially pave the way for the legalization of abortion under certain circumstances in El Salvador and other Latin American nations that currently impose criminal sanctions on it.

However, Vásquez emphasizes that there is still more to be accomplished, regardless of whether El Salvador's laws are modified tomorrow.

She perceives a distinct correlation between the scarcity of instructional sessions like the ones Viterna imparts and the choices that led her and numerous others to incarceration.

"We must commence the process of educating the populace, as that is how individuals become attuned and motivated to take action, eradicating ignorance," she asserts. "Only then can significant transformations occur."

From prisoners to women of steel

Following her release from prison, Vásquez persistently visited female inmates at Ilapongo prison while advocating for their emancipation. The captured moment showcases her efforts after a visit in August 2018, half a year subsequent to the commutation of her own sentence by El Salvador's Supreme Court.

Vásquez acknowledges that their message may not be well-received by everyone. She recalls an incident from the previous year when anti-abortion demonstrators attempted to disrupt screenings of the documentary featuring her organization. As a consequence, she experienced a surge of threats after her personal information was exposed online. Vásquez shares that these individuals persistently asserted their intention to silence her through various means.

But Vásquez says shes determined to keep speaking out.

Why spend so much time talking about a painful part of her past? And why take the risks more public exposure could bring?

"We are not doing this solely for our own sake," states Vásquez. "What else could possibly befall us? We have already endured imprisonment and paid the price for crimes we did not commit. Our presence here, however, is driven by a genuine desire to ensure that the youth of future generations can lead better lives."

As a highlight of their forthcoming speaking tour this year, the collective will also stage a play that they themselves have authored, aiming to debunk misconceptions surrounding menstruation.

Vásquez is thrilled to witness the audience's reaction. She has personally experienced the transformative power of being on stage.

In the previous year, they presented another play titled "Mujeres de Acero," translating to "Women of Steel" in Spanish. Vásquez becomes emotional every time she watches a video of the performance. The play concludes with the women gracefully waving scarves, imitating the fluttering wings of butterflies as they navigate the stage.

She and the other women, she says, have found strength in each other and made a space for themselves.

That, Vásquez says, is true freedomthe kind that no one can take away.

CNN en Españols Merlin Delcid and CNNs Tierney Sneed contributed to this report.