High: Confessions of an Ibiza Drug Mule (2021) s01e04 Episode Script

1
Michaella McCollum,
a woman from Northern Ireland
jailed for drug smuggling in Peru
three years ago
was released on parole on Thursday.
Melissa Reid remains in prison.
That's me.
Michaella!
How do you feel? How is it?
Michaella McCollum.
Caught with 11 kilograms of cocaine
hidden in their luggage.
Aged 20,
I became one half of the "Peru Two".
- What is your nationality?
- Irish.
And owner
of the world's most infamous up-do.
They said they'd been forced
to carry the drugs,
but those claims turned out to be lies.
You might wonder how
a regular kid from rural Northern Ireland
could wind up here
in a maximum-security prison
in South America.
Michaella McCollum
could be jailed for 15 years.
My family certainly did.
It was like someone had died.
And the whole world seemed
to have something to say about it.
- Michaella McCollum.
- Michaella McCollum.
If they're drug dealers,
if they're trying to smuggle cocaine
worth 1.5 million pounds,
then they deserve
all that they are getting.
Their family were
hounded by the media.
It is what people are talking about.
One bad decision
looks set to wreck my life.
The big question was why?
What made them do it?
She obviously made the decision,
but then what's behind it?
Well, this is the story
of how I got myself into this mess.
And
Michaella McCollum flew into Dublin,
out of prison and out of Peru.
how I managed
to get myself out of it.
Camera speed, everyone ready?
Okay, Michaella, let's go.
6 years and 8 months.
6 years
and 8 months.
I'd worked it out to 344 weeks
in one of the toughest prisons in Peru.
And to avoid getting twice that,
I'd had to give up some information
on the cartel guys
whose coke I got busted with.
Okay, so I hadn't told them that much.
Just some details that might
help them work out
what town in Majorca the apartment
we stayed in might have been.
But I guess I might not have seen it
that way
if I was Julio who lived
in that apartment.
The whole thing
was like a nightmare.
It was like the worst nightmare
that could ever come upon a person.
And for them,
the language barrier was a problem.
A lot of times I would get there,
and I would see
both of them very distressed.
I could see it in their eyes.
I could see how they were suffering.
I felt it in my heart a lot, you know.
And that's why I decided to help.
Andrea's kindness
and what she did for us
made such a massive difference
at the start.
The whole place was just so toxic.
Um
Everything about it was toxic.
The majority of the people were toxic.
The first thing I noticed about Ancón was
it was so manic and crazy and noisy
like it sounded like a zoo.
It just felt like you were
in this mad house.
I remember being so scared
and I was obviously really intimidated
'cause we were foreign, you know.
Obviously like a lot of people
were really, like
gunning for me.
I still couldn't really get my head around
the fact I'd be spending my 20s here.
Without Andrea, Melissa,
and this old radio we had in our cell,
I don't know how I would have
gotten through those early weeks.
Playing music was an escape for me.
It felt like music just
makes you so happy.
I would listen to it as much as possible.
It was just some old fashioned thing,
but every night I'd tune it in
and imagine I was somewhere else.
Falling asleep listening to the music.
To my surprise,
they put me in a room with her.
When I first met Miguelina,
I was definitely like
intimidated.
Everybody was staring.
Everybody was watching,
but they didn't get very close.
It was said they were very snobby.
She annoyed me a lot,
because she left the music on at night.
And she didn't let me sleep.
So one day I got up and punched her
and said, "Turn off this music!"
and she jumped like this.
Although the nights locked in
with my cellmates weren't easy,
the days when I'd have to go
into the workshops
with the rest of the prisoners
were even worse.
One of the things I kind of noticed
about Ancón quite quickly was
they were just so active sexually.
The way people would behave like that
and the fact I couldn't understand
a word anyone was saying
just added to this whole
confusing mad feel of the place.
But really, it wasn't what they might do
if they liked me
that I was most worried about.
To kill a person is a business
of two, three seconds.
You can hire a sicario in a Peruvian jail,
and they can kill her.
They can even, you know
strangle the woman
and nobody will have seen anything
and deny it.
Or give them some poison.
In Colombia and Peru,
they have this brewed Changa.
This is like a drug. It's a
A few grams of things they put it
in a Coca-Cola,
in a glass of water, you're dead.
So, imagine what kind of threat
can receive Michaella.
One day we were
in the workshops,
a lot of people were making handbags
or like making scarves or like making
a variety of different kind of things.
This Peruvian girl from one
of the big gangs
sat down next to me.
She was whispering something in Spanish.
And then she grabbed this massive needle
and went crazy.
She just leaped across the table
and started attacking this other girl.
Her blood and hair were everywhere.
I was just relieved it wasn't mine.
It turned out it was some dispute
over drugs.
People would do stuff like that
all the time in there.
And at first, I could never
quite shake off the feeling
I might be next.
After the first few
horrendous months there,
I did slowly start to drop my guard a bit,
or perhaps I just got used to
having it up the whole time.
But there had been no news
of any big Ibiza drug busts,
and I kind of figured
if they wanted me dead,
it would have happened by now.
I visited them every week,
once or twice a week.
They were under a lot of stress.
And a lot of people would lose it.
On one visit, I told them,
"Treat this as a learning experience."
"Learn Spanish,
learn about another culture."
Even though it was a very difficult time,
I really wanted them to leave
this horrible situation
with something positive.
At the time, I thought
she was just being encouraging.
What else was there for her to say,
really?
But later on,
I realized Andrea was right.
I've owned up to a lot of moments in this
that I'm really ashamed about,
but we finally got to the first
of the ones I'm actually proud of.
I couldn't change where I was,
or what they did to me in here.
So I decided to change
the only thing I could change,
me.
There was no point feeling sorry
for myself and moping around,
like I really needed to take action
and I kind of thought, like,
"How do I want to use my time here?"
Learning Spanish is number one,
I need to be able to communicate.
I had like a little dictionary
so if I was having a conversation with
somebody I would have my dictionary.
And they may say one word,
so I'm busy trying to find out
what that word is in the dictionary,
but then they have already started
talking about something else
so I'm kind of like
trying to chase what they're saying.
I didn't know it then,
but without that moment,
that and my little Spanish dictionary,
I don't think I'd be sitting here
talking to you like I am now.
It was starting to learn Spanish
that really set me on the path
to get my life back.
I used to practice with Gonzalez.
She used to kind of
want to learn basic English
and I taught her some English
and she taught me some Spanish.
That's how she spent her time.
She wouldn't spend it
sleeping like the other girls.
She was always moving.
Michaella, she had a lot of spirit.
She had a lot of strength
to be able to deal with these things.
Even just being able
to say the basics to people
and to understand a bit of what
they were trying to say to me
made a massive difference.
For the first time since I got to Ancón,
I was starting to feel a little more
like my normal self again.
But those last few months of hell
had taken their toll.
I definitely did not look like myself.
When I came to prison,
I remember everybody thought
I was like an albino
because I was so pale.
Like, I was so, so white
and it really annoyed me
because everyone kept thinking I was sick.
So I remember I wanted to look more normal
of how I looked on like the outside world
but I didn't have access to that.
I would see them wearing make-up
all the time
and they would have their nails
freshly painted
I just didn't understand
how they did all of that stuff.
Like, where did they go to,
to get this stuff done?
Eventually, I learned their secret.
The prison had its very own beauty salon.
Actually it was more like a few chairs
and mirrors and a concrete room,
but for me, it was heaven.
I remember feeling like a little kid
thinking, "oh, my gosh, this was amazing,"
like I didn't know this place existed.
I got a job
and I spent most of my time working.
It really helped my Spanish come on
and working there meant I didn't have
to be in the workshops anymore.
Michaella had a beauty parlor
and she made money.
The prison system in Peru isn't like in
the United States or maybe like England
where people wear jumpsuits,
and they don't handle cash.
People in Peru, they have businesses.
They sell things.
I would do kind of like
different kind of hair treatments,
coloring and cutting and blow-dries.
Waxing, nails, massages,
basically the majority of things
that you would get done at a salon.
I had no real qualifications
or experience.
I guess I was just winging it and just
you know, making it up as I went along.
People weirdly trusted me to do stuff.
But I was good at it.
I kind of had like a lot of clients
and a lot of people came to me, so
I think I must have been
doing something right.
That spoke a lot
about her personality, like,
if she really wants something,
she goes out and she gets it.
What I wanted now
was to get the hell out of here.
And really, the salon
and the money it made me
was the next step to making that happen.
It took me to, like,
being six months in prison
for me to realize everybody else here
is kind of like on the same boat.
'Cause obviously when you're
spending two hours with somebody
they're going to be talking
and, you know,
they'll probably be telling you things
that they wouldn't normally
walk up to somebody and say.
I felt like I really got to see people
for who they really were.
I think I formed relationships
a lot deeper in prison.
We had a great relationship.
I would sit in my bed
and she would sit opposite me on a chair,
and we would talk and talk and talk
until they turned off the light.
She would ask,
"How long have you got left, Miguelina?"
I have been here 11 years and 4 months.
All this time
since I haven't been with my family.
A mother is a mother.
You understand?
I know my kids are suffering. I know.
I have a grandson who is four as well.
He says, "Mama, where are you
and when are you coming home?"
and I say, "I'll be there soon, my love."
That's where our relationship
as friends began.
And I got to know Miguelina.
Yeah, she was like a really lovely person.
I knew she was so soft
and, like, she's quite witty
and really, really funny.
She looked at me like a little girl.
Like I was just a baby in her eyes.
She would even say I was her mother.
She would say, "Mum, Mum."
And I saw her as a daughter.
I learnt plenty
I wasn't expecting to in Ancón.
But that didn't mean I was any keener
on spending the rest of my 20s there.
And about halfway through
our second year, something happened
that would really set me
on the path to freedom.
Each block had a delegada,
like a delegate,
an elected head prisoner
who was in charge of everything
that happens on that block.
Our delegada decided to step down,
and they announced there was going
to be an election
to choose her replacement.
A lot of people were saying,
"Oh, will you be it?"
I kind of like wanted
to test myself as well
'cause I was thinking,
"Oh, I've learnt all these things,"
or, you know,
"I think I've learnt all these things."
This would be a great way
to kind of test myself.
I genuinely thought
I could help the people there.
I was like fuck it,
I'm just going to do it.
I was up against another,
like, Mexican woman
who had been in prison for, like, 10 years
so she had like a huge Mexican following
so I kind of thought it was
quite obvious who would get that role.
Once the drawing was complete
I'd won.
And then, yeah, we had some
fizzy juice and snacks
and that was our celebration.
I was the first English-speaking person
to ever have that role.
Almost everybody voted Michaella.
You could see she had good qualities,
and that she was an honest person,
so that's why
she was chosen as our delegate.
Really did try to improve things.
I got water filters
so we could all have clean water.
A new microwave.
And we would have evenings
where we would have an hour of dancing
so people could just let loose.
Just to add some more excitement
or, like, something to look forward to.
From then on,
I knew that having my own money
and the power
would definitely help me
move my paperwork
and start my whole process.
I was told that if I paid
for a court date,
I would get a court date a lot quicker.
I could pay for a slot
rather than waiting the average year
or, you know, 16 months.
So I just sent money.
The bribes and getting the paperwork ready
would have cost about 1,000 dollars.
It was a lot of money
to pay somebody to do their job
that they're getting paid to do anyway,
but I knew by paying it,
I would get the job done
and that's all I wanted.
After months of waiting and hoping,
I was finally given my court date.
I could not even think about
not getting out,
and I'm going to have to wait a year
before I would get that opportunity again.
It was all or nothing.
I knew I would really break
if I didn't get this.
The judge just sat there in reserve.
It was mainly the prosecutor
who was grilling me.
She was like, "This lady
doesn't have any rights to parole,
so I'm not going to waste my time."
My heart sunk.
This is the moment of truth
for you to prove that
you are ready to be freed.
I felt like, "Oh, shit.
How am I going to, like,
convince these people
that I had changed?"
I wanted to prove to them
that I was like serious
and that I wasn't just
messing about in here.
I didn't just make a stupid mistake
and not care.
And I wanted them to know
that I saw now how I'd ended up here.
When I went to Ibiza,
I didn't admit that I was running away,
even though secretly I knew I was running.
I mean, I'd always been running.
I would never approach my problems.
And then
I just fell in a stupid trap again
of making stupid decisions.
Of course I feel like
if I didn't meet Davey,
none of this would have happened.
After I got arrested,
I hated him.
But then I kind of feel like
if it was somebody else and not him,
would I have done it?
I probably still would have.
Now that I look back, I realise how stupid
and how easily I would have said yes
to most things.
I wanted them to understand
that I can be 20 and super young
and make a really stupid mistake.
And like how the mistakes
I've made in the past
have given me this chance
to, like, learn and grow.
How all I want is to be with my family
again and have a normal life.
I was in that much of, like, ideas
that I didn't even realize
that they had, like
granted me my release.
I was, like, trembling.
I really just could not believe
that this was happening.
She actually did it herself.
That's another very interesting thing
about Michaella.
She is very hands-on and independent.
I think that this whole situation
made her even more intelligent
and more street smart,
having to, like, defend herself
in a prison made her more mature.
Um
I think that she's
a very strong, strong woman.
I admire her.
It was the longest morning ever.
Time was just staying still.
Melissa came with me to
as far as she was allowed to go.
It was really emotional
leaving Melissa behind.
I'd spent so much time with her.
She was waiting for her court hearing
and I remember looking at her
when I was leaving,
and I just felt so sorry for her
because, "You're still going to have
to continue this nightmare for longer."
Eventually, they opened the door.
And I was like, I don't actually know
where I'm supposed to go.
And they were like,
"Yeah, but you're free."
It was really, really sunny
and it was like a beautiful day.
And there was this long road.
So I just walked.
And at the bottom of the hill,
I see my family standing there.
And then I just ran.
All I could hear was my sandals flopping.
My mum greeted me first
and we just like hugged like freaks
for like 10 minutes standing there.
And the guards were like,
"Okay, go on now," like,
they were just watching us
and we just stood there hugging.
Once I got into the car
I looked at the place and I was like,
"Oh, my God, like how was I in there?"
Like I found it really hard to believe
that I came out of there
after almost three years.
The people who commit these crimes
need to fulfill their sentence.
They must reintegrate into society
to do other types of activities.
And if their conscious allows them,
show how they can be a testimony,
so that the others don't commit
the errors that they did.
If she is doing that I believe it is
because she recognized she made a mistake.
Going back to Lima airport
was a weird feeling,
but all the better 'cause this time,
the only thing in my suitcase
was my clothes.
I was going to miss the friends
I'd made in prison
more than I'd ever have
believed at the start.
And one of the terms of my parole was
that I'd never be allowed
to set foot in Peru again.
So it was a weird feeling
to be leaving forever,
but at the same time,
just the biggest relief to be going home.
Everybody could not wait
to see how she was doing.
She looked really well.
Her hair had been changed.
It was blonde and that did not go down
very well at all.
People were outraged.
People started asking the question,
"I thought she was in a hellhole prison.
She looks like she's just
stepped out of a beauty salon."
She should be allowed to move on,
but should people forget
of what happened to her? Absolutely not.
If it was me,
would I be comfortable coming back home
when people could abuse me
know me as a cocaine smuggler?
Somewhere where that is
hugely frowned upon.
And I think all that combined
just makes it very hard for people.
Anything you want ♪
You could be having it all ♪
It's always going to be
in the background.
You know that she did
something that was reprehensible.
Some people probably would not
maybe be able to
make allowances for her.
And some people will always
maybe hold that against her.
And some people would maybe even doubt
as to whether or not
she is totally sincere.
I think a lot will depend
on Michaella herself.
Certainly, I think
she can speak with credibility.
She can speak out of her experience.
That's how she will be judged.
'Cause I'm a warrior ♪
I get that some people
will always find it hard to forgive me
for what I did.
Listen, there's lots of days
I find it hard to forgive myself.
And anyway, there's a kind of person
who doesn't even want to believe
someone can change.
I know what I did
and I'm not proud of that,
but I also know who I am now.
And what I did with my life
after I massively fucked up.
And that person, I am proud of.
And if there's one thing
I'd like anyone to take from this,
other than don't try and smuggle
a shitload of drugs
through an international airport,
is that when you're young,
you don't know it all.
And you can screw things up big time,
but you don't have to let that
define the rest of your life.
Even if some people wanted to.
You can do the right thing.
And you can change who you are.
And you can get on living.
I made a dreadful mistake and I regret it,
but what prison taught me,
made me who I am today.
And that's a better person
than I would have been otherwise.
I'm a mom now,
and I'm going to get on with
being the best one I can.