Ahmed Tommouhi, 15 anys a la presó per error: "I've had to hear myself called a rapist."

Saint Peter of RiudebitllesThe night Ahmed Tommouhi was arrested, in November 1991, he had been emigrating to Catalonia from Morocco for eight months. At the time, the police were searching for those responsible for a series of sexual assaults, and both he and another Moroccan man staying at the same boarding house in Terrassa, where he had found work, matched the description given by the victims. Decades and fifteen years of imprisonment—the other defendant died in prison—have passed until the courts have overturned all the rape convictions that were wrongly handed down. Years and evidence, such as DNA, have proven that these attacks were committed by another man. A few weeks ago, he learned that The National Court refuses to compensate him for the years he spent behind bars because he doesn't see "a gross or obvious error" in justice.

How are you?

— For the moment, I'm not well, nor am I bad. I'm a little better. Now they clean my face. They made me dirty, and now they clean me. Not just me, my whole family, all the people who support me, everyone is clean. Now I feel clean, my family and I can hold our heads high, just like before. Before, I always kept my head down, because some believed me and others didn't. Justice didn't, that's why I always kept my head down, with my friends, with everyone. Not anymore.

Is there anything that can repair what we've experienced?

— No, Nothing can fix this. My life is already ruined, and my health is already failing. Nothing can be fixed. I'm fighting for the rest of my life. Will I ever get my life back? I can't anymore. I was 40; now I'm 74. When I was imprisoned, at 40, I was strong, I didn't have any illnesses, I could work, walk, and go wherever I wanted.

How did his arrest affect you and your family?

— Everything. My life was ruined. I haven't been with my family for 34 years, and that's a lot. My three children were children, they grew up as orphans, and my wife was suddenly a widow. Her husband is alive, but he was dead. It was very difficult for my wife; she was left with three children and no job. I was locked up like a criminal, a criminal without a crime.

What was your life like after you were released in 2006?

— I spent 15 years living in prison, and once I'm released on parole, how do I go to Morocco? Who do I go to Morocco with? Do I walk, without money or work? My wife and one of my daughters were there; the rest came here looking for work. How can I bring my wife here without money? They released me, but I was worthless: no job, no work permit, nothing. They threw me out onto the street, and that was it. Who would give me work? To be able to work, I had to serve five years of parole and another five without committing any crimes. I was terrified of being left on the streets, but thank God I had family here, like my brother, who helped me.

And how do you think it would have been if it weren't for that judicial error?

— I'm not a man of trouble, I'm not a man of crime. Before they put me in prison, my life was the same as everyone else's. I thought about my future, about my family. We worked and lived in peace, never exchanged a bad word. Never in my life, never, would I have thought I'd go to prison. I went on my way, escaping problems, following a clean path. I thought about illness, but never about jail. This came to me from heaven, I don't know where it came from, and I find myself serving time in prison, like a major criminal, but without any crimes. They're calling me the biggest criminal in Catalonia, in Spain. I didn't even know the towns where the rapes took place. I never would have thought something like this would happen to me, but this nightmare comes to me.

Why do you think they arrested you and not someone else?

— Because of my resemblance to these criminals. All the crimes happened at night, and because we looked like them, the victims pointed the finger at us. And that was it. But with the evidence, however, it wasn't us. And in the end, the judges convicted us even though they had everything on the table: the forensics, the police... but they convicted me with their finger [makes a pointing gesture] in the lineup.

How did it make you feel that they didn't believe you?

— The rage is only within me, but not at the women who pointed at me, but at the judges. I asked myself: What's wrong with these judges? Don't they have a heart? They're killing me; I'm innocent, and they have it all against them. That's why I'm enraged at the judges, not at the victims. It was nighttime; criminals often cover their faces, and they pointed at me as someone else.

He has had to endure being called a rapist.

— Yes. In prison, and also when I was being taken to trial. The victims' families approached me before I went in. In prison, they weren't all [criminals]. In prison, there's a bit of everything. Most aren't right in the head. Sometimes they jumped up and down and said, "I'll kill you all, death to the rapists." When I hear those words, of course I get nervous. Because I didn't do those things. A rapist, when he hears that word, hides, goes somewhere else. Not me, but of course I get nervous. It's very difficult to hear those words. But no one has ever said that to my face. I've had to hear it said to me, yes, but no one has done it to my face.

Recently, one ruling upheld his acquittal, while another ruled out compensation. How did you feel about it?

— Very, very bad. They locked me up in prison for so many years, now they're taking away my sentence because they know I'm innocent. They're taking it away from me! And they say they won't give me compensation. How will I live? Without work, without pay, nothing. They ruined my life. If they'd let me work, I'd be very happy, I'd be doing very well earning... what was I earning? 500 pesetas back then? With 500 pesetas, I'd be very happy.