Why the case against me is and always was fatally flawed
By Harry Bodaan
After enduring the nightmare I lived through in Costa Rica, a country I called home for over 27 years, I can’t help but ask: Did God truly want me to go through all of this for a reason? Was there a greater purpose in the suffering, the injustice and the deep betrayal I experienced?
I was locked away for three years, totally innocent. Day after day behind bars, I found myself asking why. Why was I here? I would tell the other inmates, over and over, maybe this was something God wanted me to see, something I had to live through, because nothing in my life had ever prepared me for what I was enduring.
Before all this, I lived in a bubble. I truly believed that people only went to jail if they were guilty. That’s what society teaches us, isn’t it? That the system works, that justice prevails. I never questioned it — until the opposite happened to me.
But then I met them: dozens of inmates with stories that shattered my assumptions. Old men broken, discarded, forgotten.
People who, like me, were caught in the jaws of a system that is supposed to protect the innocent — but too often destroys them instead. I realized just how wrong I’d been.
I now know without a doubt that many of the people locked up are not guilty. Yes, some lie. But far too many don’t. They are simply the unlucky ones — poor, voiceless or in the wrong place at the wrong time.
We trust that lawmakers should do everything in their power to prevent this from happening. But that trust is misplaced. I learned this the hard way.
For decades, I worked side-by-side with law enforcement to improve safety in the Canton de Quepos. I believed in justice. I believed in doing the right thing. So never, not even in my worst nightmares, could I have imagined being falsely accused, falsely arrested, and thrown into prison for nearly three years — despite my full cooperation in a murder investigation that happened at my own hotel. I even pointed the OIJ toward the real suspect.
And yet, they turned on me.
The police and prosecutors in this case should have known that the so-called evidence against me was too weak to even detain me, let alone imprison and put me on trial. A prosecutor’s job is to pursue justice, not to obtain convictions at any cost. The worst possible thing a prosecutor can do is not to lose a case, but to “win” one against someone who’s totally innocent. The real evidence pointing to my innocence was buried in an ill-fated rush to judgment and an unwillingness to reverse course as the “evidence” against me crumbled. The system I believed in, and gave so much of my life to, tore mine apart.
In prison, I made a promise — to myself and to the men I left behind. I swore that if I ever got out, I would speak up. That I would fight. That I would not be silent. I would be a voice for those who no longer have one. For the forgotten.
After enduring the nightmare I lived through in Costa Rica, a country I called home for over 27 years, I can’t help but ask: Did God truly want me to go through all of this for a reason? Was there a greater purpose in the suffering, the injustice and the deep betrayal I experienced?
I was locked away for three years, totally innocent. Day after day behind bars, I found myself asking why. Why was I here? I would tell the other inmates, over and over, maybe this was something God wanted me to see, something I had to live through, because nothing in my life had ever prepared me for what I was enduring.
Before all this, I lived in a bubble. I truly believed that people only went to jail if they were guilty. That’s what society teaches us, isn’t it? That the system works, that justice prevails. I never questioned it — until the opposite happened to me.
But then I met them: dozens of inmates with stories that shattered my assumptions. Old men broken, discarded, forgotten.
People who, like me, were caught in the jaws of a system that is supposed to protect the innocent — but too often destroys them instead. I realized just how wrong I’d been.
Costa Rica’s system of prisión preventiva (“preventive prison”) allows judges to imprison untried suspects if they are deemed a flight risk or a threat to society. Under this system, some 20% of people in prison in Costa Rica have not been convicted of any crime. Many of these go on to be acquitted at trial, making their imprisonment a total miscarriage of justice. Others end up convicted of crimes they didn’t commit, ruled guilty by a three-judge panel in a justice system with no juries. How can we call ourselves a civilized society when we allow this to happen?
Many of the innocents languishing behind bars simply give up. Their reasons are heartbreaking: no money, no education, no family, no hope, nowhere else to go. Just fear, isolation and despair. And the world outside moves on, unaware.
We’ve seen leaders like President Nayib Bukele of El Salvador soar in popularity by abandoning due process and locking people up for tattoos. But justice must never be sacrificed for the sake of ratings or headlines. The innocent must be protected. Oversight must be enforced. Prosecutors should not have unchecked power. Official misconduct must be investigated and punished. Because if it happened to me — with my clean record and untainted background — it can happen to anyone.
I will fight for the innocents still trapped inside. As long as I have breath in my body and the means to continue, I will stand up alongside anyone who believes in this cause.
I hope you’ll stay with me. This story is not over. It’s only just begun!
