Tag Archive | Tamara Hernández Heras

Attack on police academy in Madrid

From Klinamen via Indymedia Madrid:

March 24, 2010

On the night of February 28, we found ourselves compelled to attack a police academy on Paseo de las Delicias near Plaza Ana la Beata. We say we found ourselves compelled, because it’s clear to our conscience that we are in the midst of a hidden social war.

We won’t stay still while the state’s dogs arbitrarily arrest, torture, imprison, and harass us.

We joyfully learned of the attacks carried out by comrades in struggle on New Year’s Eve. That’s the way to do it. The more you try to repress us, the more often you will find us there to tell you that there will be a price to pay for all the harm you cause.

We want to stress that we must lose our fear and attack these bastards. We aren’t super-activists/militants. We’re normal people, and if we can do it, so can you.

With this action, we want to remember the comrades recently abducted by this shitty system: anarchist comrade Tamara, and Galician comrades Xurxo y Oscar.

From the other side of the wall: Letter #2 from Tamara

From Punto de Fuga via Tokata:

February 11, 2010

These letters sent from inside the gray, cold prison of Brians are an attempt to return, in some way, all the warmth and affection to those who, with their support and solidarity, have managed to kill the everyday loneliness and routine concealed by imprisonment; to those who are giving me so much strength and vitality right now, and crossing the barrier that separates us to make sure I never lose the feeling of freedom; to all those who are showing how a simple pen and paper can restore one’s hope and desire to keep fighting; to all those who are struggling against the business of torture, punishment, and repression represented by prisons.

And to all of you . . . what can I tell you that you don’t already know? How struggle is repressed? How voices are walled in? How their filthy laws control our lives?

I could tell you how, on December 15, 2009, before the sun went down, a group of Civil Guards entered my home, took whatever they wanted, and abducted me.

I could try to explain what I felt while listening to cries of pain and fear from a jail cell in a police station.

I could pass along the experiences that some prisoners have shared with me, in which they speak of humiliation, of torture, of helplessness, of solitude.

I could talk about what I’ve been able to observe from this side of the wall, like how the “Penitentiary Business” profits from the people it captures, and how they call this “reinsertion” (strange word).

I could illustrate, with some events I’ve been able to witness during this month-and-a-half without freedom, how the prison health system functions, how methadone and other legal drugs are its best methods of control, and how very little people’s health and lives matter.

I could talk about the sadness I feel in the mornings, when I hear so many say “one day less” instead of “one more day.”

I could tell you that, behind these walls, people are being isolated and destroyed.

But . . . all this rings a bell, right? We’ve heard it all before, we’ve been through it all, it’s all happened to others many times, we know all about it. We know that we find ourselves inside an unjust system that sentences us to a “non-life” in which the false idea of “well-being” blinds and condemns people, in which work shackles us, their laws control us, and prison represses and punishes us.

I refuse to fall victim to all this, and even now I don’t feel like one. I want to be and always will be their “problem.” And that’s why what I really want to get across with these words is the desire for us to keep fighting, to not surrender, to continue coping, to try—at least—to breathe freely and feel alive.

I think of you and I feel alive, free, and strong, and that’s why your solidarity has managed to be stronger than the bars of their cells.

For that reason, this letter is addressed to all those who—every day—make the struggle worthwhile, to all the people being held captive in these Death Camps, to all those struggling inside and outside the prisons.

Accept this sisterly embrace, filled with Freedom and rebellion.


– Tamara (January 26, 2010)

From the other side of the wall: Letter #1 from Tamara

From Punto de Fuga via Tokata:

February 11, 2010

Note from TIOJ: This particular letter was riddled with ellipses, which we assume indicated where the prison censors did their foul business. For the sake of readability, we’ve omitted the ellipses from our translation.

I’m fine, considering the circumstances. It’s now been more than a month since they arrested me, with all the commotion that involved, and I prefer to remember it as a bad dream.

In spite of everything, I can tell you that it didn’t make me fall apart, and I’ve been―and still am―strong enough and itching to keep up the fight. And that’s thanks to you, to all of you out there. Because you have kept me in mind all this time, I have never felt alone, and I think that’s very important to someone in jail. It makes me feel really fortunate because, in truth, the worst thing here is loneliness, which amplifies the desperation, the humiliation, the helplessness, and the fear. That’s why I find myself obliged to be cheerful and to pass along all my good cheer. Because here it’s very easy to be in the yard and find yourself crying to someone for (apparently) no particular reason.

The truth is that right now I find myself somewhat lost and isolated even though I know you’re out there, despite the matter of the confiscation of my letters. But these fucking walls are sometimes very strong, and they prevent me from clearly seeing the reality on the outside (although I can more or less imagine it).

I feel that the best solidarity is to continue the struggle. That’s why I think that, if there is a campaign for me, it must have continuity and a real undercurrent that helps strengthen the anti-prison struggle. Otherwise, it makes no sense to me, and I don’t want other efforts to grind to a halt on my account. Besides, I’m more calm now. Reflecting on what I can, I intend to find a way to keep fighting from this side of the wall.


– Tamara (January 23, 2010)

Tamara’s current situation

From Klinamen:

February 11, 2010

February 15 will mark two months since our friend and comrade Tamara was abducted by the state.

Currently, Brians I prison administration has ordered the limitation of her visitation rights and phone calls.

Her mail is being monitored, and they only give it to her when they feel like it.

An appeal for her provisional liberty has been denied.

Right now, we are awaiting new motions by her defense, which could lead to changes in the judicial process.

We know that information about her case has been hard to come by, but prison and the law know nothing of life, of time.

Tamara is strong and in good spirits. She tells us that she can really feel the support of her family and comrades, and that—despite the walls separating us—she can sense how close we are. She also always reminds us that her case is one of millions.

We do not forget why she is being held captive, and for that reason her struggle—our struggle—does not stop once one of us is imprisoned. Active solidarity and mutual aid spell trouble for the murderous state.

Our response is to keep fighting.

Demolish prisons

Solidarity with Tamara from Soto del Real Death Camp

From Punto de Fuga:

January 7, 2010

Three weeks ago, a comrade informed me about the surface aspects of Tamara Hernández Heras’ arrest. This same comrade/friend then mailed me a communiqué released by a comrade of his, which I received on December 29, 2009. I was therefore able to read about and verify the particulars regarding Tamara’s arrest and accusation, as well as the crime she is being charged with.

If one thing is clear about the whole incident, it’s that this “democratic” social/fascist state, via Tamara’s arrest/imprisonment, is again attempting to paralyze active solidarity with prisoners on the one hand and strike fear into the people who practice it on the other. Nothing new under the sun there.

I have had the privilege of knowing Tamara for almost a year, through letters and also personally. Because of the way she understood/expressed solidarity, Tamara was a “threat” to this sickening state (as all states are), and that “threat” had to not only be neutralized but also turned into a “crime” as a warning to fellow travelers, which is what has unfortunately happened.

Tamara is someone who is very committed to those of us who are victims of imprisonment/extermination. She used to constantly visit the comrade prisoners geographically dispersed throughout the prison-state archipelago, bringing us—and broadcasting to us via radio—a ray of light, of hope, of strength, and above all, of sincere affection. It seems to me, and I don’t think I’m mistaken, that she suffered this scar with us, as another one of us. But that didn’t stop her from struggling, to the best of her abilities (I wish there were more like her), against this framework—the product of human injustice—to try to minimize its effects on prisoners.

For Tamara, solidarity is not an advertising slogan (so much in style nowadays), but a word endowed with effective action and real engagement. These days, that entails a “crime,” a very serious crime. That’s why she has been punished/imprisoned, and she is an expedient victim because of her posture of struggle against this industry of legalized murder and the system that legitimizes it and provides it with raw materials: us, the prisoners.

In the end, the only thing left is for me to tell everyone to not allow yourselves to be intimidated by this new frame-up of our comrade/friend, or they will have achieved their goal. But above all, the highest priority at this time is that Tamara and her family do not find themselves alone, that you support them and especially HER. Because when all is said and done, inside here that support is fundamental. It’s almost a necessity in order to keep going. Plus, TAMARA IS ONE OF THE BEST WE HAVE.

To the CNA (Anarchist Black Cross), I say that I will support whatever measure or action you take toward Tamara’s liberation from inside here, with the tools of struggle at my disposal.

To all the rest, a concluding reflection: How much more will it take before you move beyond the more or less predictable response to situations like this, and on to another phase of greater depth and conviction? I think the time of discussions/documents expressing our disagreement (in short, of words, even though they are still necessary) should proceed to a second stage. NOW IS THE TIME to talk of ANGER, FURY, and HATE, so that the struggle against this repulsive system and its filthy supporters occupies the place it belongs and takes its most extreme form. To paraphrase from one of Artemio Zarco’s articles (“Damned Incompetents”): It’s time to turn into a human swarm. Otherwise, when we might want to react, we will already have the noose around our necks and it will be too late.

Against the violence of state forces, against their prisons and the rest of their power structures: WAR WITHOUT MERCY, WITHOUT ANY KIND OF COMPROMISE. The constant backing down needs to stop, because no matter how you think this situation should be changed (not to mention how the State should be destroyed), it’s clear that the same old prescription isn’t curing the patient.

An embrace for all the righteous ones. An embrace for Tamara, filled with strength and love.

– A Comrade, Soto del Real State Slaughterhouse, 1/1/2010

They will always beat us down. We will always get back up. [Plus Tamara update]

From Klinamen:

December 23, 2009

Leaflet distributed during the demonstrations of support for anarchist prisoner Tamara

It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. It happened two days ago, on December 15. The police went to our comrade Tamara’s home in Madrid and arrested her on an order from the 25th district court of Barcelona. She is accused of sending a letter-bomb to the infamous Albert Batlle i Bastardas, Secretary of Prison Services for the Generalitat.

Regardless of whether or not our comrade is the perpetrator of the act (it makes no difference to us), the reasons why someone would want to attack Mr. Batlle are obvious to anyone familiar with his activities. As the one directly in charge of managing Catalunya’s prisons, his responsibility for the injustices that occur inside them can’t be denied. Nor can one deny his responsibility for the deaths, the secret life sentences, the torture, the terrible sanitary conditions that create physical and mental illness, the many types of abuse, and the very essence of prison as a tool used by the system to punish the poverty and rebelliousness it produces. It can’t be denied, because even though Mr. Battle didn’t invent prisons, he expressly decides what happens in them.

Then the message is very clear: Don’t you dare respond to the state’s abuses, because the state is untouchable, and whoever acts against it must be crushed, confined, isolated, or destroyed. We know the lesson well; they have spent years teaching it to us. This same idea has been explained in many different ways: by beating us during demonstrations, by blackmailing us with astronomical fines and bail amounts, by torturing us, by threatening our families, and by killing us, like they did to Xosé Tarrío and Paco Ortiz. But even so, we’re stubborn and we refuse to learn it.

Nor can we or do we want to accept that, in the face of everything going on in our lives and our world, only resignation is possible. We can’t cross our arms in the face of the violence of wage-labor or the anguish of being on strike. We can’t be quiet in the face of misery, immigrant detention centers, beatings by police and security guards, or projects that destroy the Earth. And we certainly can’t be quiet in the face of prisons. In the face of all this destruction, we take our positions on the barricades that divide the world, face to face with those who promote and benefit from that destruction, like Mr. Batlle. Therefore, we are with Tamara, because that is where we have to be. And if they beat us down, we will not budge. We will simply get back up.

Solidarity with Tamara! Freedom for anarchist prisoners!


More on Tamara:

  • Demonstrators at Wad-Ras prison on Thursday found out that Tamara could hear them and that she was “filled with strength” just knowing they were outside.
  • Tamara’s closest friends and comrades live in Madrid, some 700 kilometers away from where she is imprisoned. Therefore, Barcelona anarchists are mobilizing to make sure that she lacks nothing, whether material, emotional, or in a revolutionary sense. Space has been set aside at the Besòs Anarchist Library so that people can leave things to be sent to Tamara. Her basic needs include books, clothing (nothing navy blue, and no gray pants), and new, sealed music CDs.
  • Tamara’s mailing address is:

Tamara Hernández Heras
C.P. Brians – Dones
Carretera de Martorell a Capellades, km 23
08635 Sant Esteve Sesrovires

Solidarity action in Barcelona related to anarchist arrests

From Klinamen via Indymedia Barcelona:

December 19, 2009

Early on Friday morning, as two small acts of solidarity, we set fire to two banks in Guinardó (Barcelona).

First, we want to claim this action in support of Tamara, the young Madrileña arrested this week and accused of sending a letter-bomb to the director of Prison Services―the politician responsible for the current situation of prisoner Amadeu Casellas.

Regardless of whether she is the perpetrator of this act, we know that this arrest signifies an attempt to stop all demonstrations of support for Amadeu. This assertion is corroborated by various reports that the Mossos have been presenting in order to sound the alarm about the dangerous connections being woven around the anarchist prisoner’s hunger strike. It is in this sense that we understand her arrest, and it is in this sense that we understand our solidarity.

Second, we want to show our most heartfelt support to the comrades arrested in Chile. Our enemies may not understand borders―as evidenced by the Italian collaboration with the Chilean police―but neither do we as internationalist proletarians. You are not alone!

Where there is struggle, there is repression!
Where there is repression, there is solidarity!

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