Not everyone believed young woman was guilty of importing cocaine
The pastor believed Rodriguez. “She had no reason to lie to me … If (prisoners) are going to come to me for help, they know that let’s start in a place of honesty.”
As days in prison turned into weeks, then months, Rodriguez’s refusal to back away from an appeal and give up stood out to both Noble and her fellow inmates.
“She was an inspiration to the others that were here. When people heard her story and they looked at her, everybody drew their own conclusion,” Noble says. “But because of her steadfastness, she was a very good example for someone to stay on the course, you know, don’t give up the hope. She lived it out very well here in this institution.”
Rodriguez passed the days getting lost in books, taking every course that was offered, including a two-month peer support class, and leading yoga and Zumba lessons. She spoke to her sister on the phone frequently and found comfort in regular Sunday afternoon appointments with Schoepp, who filled out the necessary forms and received approval to visit. The fact a stranger had sat through the trial and was now spending his time meeting with her gave Rodriguez some much-needed hope.
“He gave me a lot of strength, just knowing that there’s someone that doesn’t know me or anything … and believed in me,” Rodriguez says.
Nearly every Sunday afternoon, Schoepp would drive 25 minutes to the Edmonton women’s prison where he would empty his pockets, have his watch or wallet swabbed for drugs and stand still as a drug dog sniffed him. Then, he’d walk to a room with tables and vending machines, purchase two coffees and sit down with Rodriguez to talk, knowing she had no family in Edmonton to see in person.
“I thought it was something I should do. At times I felt stupid. Here’s a 58-year-old man visiting a 23-year-old girl,” Schoepp says.
But the conversations flowed naturally and the pair formed an unlikely bond, with Schoepp acting like a father figure and friend to a girl whose dad was thousands of kilometres away in Colombia.
The chats would often last for hours, drifting from prison happenings to Schoepp’s family, to the country Rodriguez was born in, her dreams for the future, her case and musings on life in general.
“I just felt so bad for her,” says Schoepp, holding back tears. “I couldn’t believe that they would find her guilty … I’m thinking her life was ruined … Those are years that should be joyful and there was not much joy for her in that time.”
Schoepp believed while Rodriguez’s lawyer and the judge played a major role in the situation, “Strike 1 is that she was born in Colombia.”
Rodriguez agrees her birthplace caused bias.
“That was my first mistake. Be- ing Colombian,” she says. “What happened to me could happen to anybody … They were just like, ‘She’s Colombian. That’s it.’”
And it wasn’t just Schoepp and Rodriguez who believed her Colombian passport helped land her behind bars.
On a spring day in 2013, Andres Talero, then a consul general of Colombia, travelled to Edmonton to meet Rodriguez, who insisted she was innocent. Desperate to be free, she requested a visit after she was told an appeal was unlikely to succeed. Talero was intrigued by what Rodriguez was telling him, and he asked her for copies of the indictment and sentence from the Court of Queen’s Bench.
Talero stayed up late into the evening poring over the documents pertaining to the case and getting increasingly worked up.
“I just couldn’t sleep. I was mad as hell,” he says.
“I realized that they didn’t have any evidence of her involvement in drug trafficking. The only thing that seems to have them feel comfortable or persuaded that she must be guilty is the fact that she was born in Colombia. And, of course, you can imagine, it made me become outraged and angry.”
Talero was well-versed in drug cases and keen to see what evidence supported Rodriguez’s conviction beyond the two datestamped papers found in De Leon’s
Because of her steadfastness, she was a very good example for someone to stay on the course, you know, don’t give up the hope.
Panama apartment. He questioned why someone expecting a package of drugs would open it in front of their sister and niece, and in clear view of windows.
He figured if a 20-year-old woman with no previous criminal record was guilty of knowingly importing such a large amount of cocaine, then RCMP would surely have found a cellphone or inbox full of known Alberta drug dealers able to sell the drugs locally.
“This is Canada. This is a very sound system,” thought Talero, as he flipped through the documents and found no such evidence.
“OK,” thought Talero, “maybe there’s no drug dealer contact, but they’re able to trace several cash deposits into her bank account. They have to have that.”
But he found nothing. He searched the documents for proof of large sums of cash, fancy jewelry, a new car — anything that would demonstrate Rodriguez had profited from the drug operation. He found nothing.
“No one gets involved in such a dangerous activity … without any gain. Why would she accept becoming part of a drug operation with no benefit for herself? That doesn’t make any sense.”