La historia judicial reciente de Bolivia está llena de ejemplos que renovaron el uso del término "abogado del diablo".
Perhaps the most feared abogada del diablo in Bolivia today is a woman in her sixties, a former guerrilla sympathizer turned legal eagle. Let’s call her Margarita. el abogado del diablo bolivia
She represents narcotraficantes in the Chapare region. She walks into the FELCN (anti-narcotics police) headquarters like a queen entering a slum. The police hate her; the DEA fears her. La historia judicial reciente de Bolivia está llena
“My clients are coca growers,” she tells me, chain-smoking Camel cigarettes. “To the US, they are drug lords. To me, they are farmers protecting a sacred leaf. Who is the devil here? The man who chews coca to work 18 hours, or the government that jails him to please the gringos?” She represents narcotraficantes in the Chapare region
Margarita has a bulletproof vest in her trunk. She has been shot at twice. She keeps a ledger of every human rights violation she has witnessed in the cárceles.
“They call me the devil,” she laughs, a dry, hacking sound. “Fine. If defending the dispossessed makes me a demon, then heaven must be full of fascists.”
Bolivia es un país con una fuerte división social y racial, y El abogado del diablo no rehúye este tema. La relación entre el abogado (un hombre de ciudad, occidentalizado y con recursos perdidos) y su cliente (un joven indígena del área rural) sirve como espejo de la realidad boliviana. La película visibiliza la discriminación que sufren los pueblos originarios dentro del aparato estatal, donde a menudo son tratados como ciudadanos de segunda clase.