"It's not the same when you get out," says Gael —name changed— when he recalls what happened. He was arrested in 2016 in Malaga, accused of providing logistical support to an international criminal drug trafficking network. He spent over 17 months in pretrial detention in Alhaurín de la Torre. Although acquitted in the trial, Justice took seven years to acknowledge his right to be compensated . He was entitled to around 12,000 euros, which equates to 24.41 euros for each day spent in confinement. In the end, he only received 2,700 euros: the rest was deducted for administrative debts, mainly traffic fines. "They gave me almost 12,000 euros, and about 9,000 were kept for traffic fines I had. In the end, I didn't even have enough to pay the lawyer," he recounts.
During his time in prison, his car —a Renault Mégane GT that he still owns— was abandoned in the judicial impound lot in Malaga, with the windows completely open. Constant exposure to the elements caused severe damage: the steering wheel was completely worn out, the seats were in poor condition due to humidity, the roof was completely damaged, as well as a large part of the exterior paint. The damage bill amounts to around 5,000 euros , as he describes.
Gael tells Crónica with some resignation how it all began: "They took me to the police station, showed me a photo of someone I didn't know. They said I had participated in a drug landing with those people," . His lawyer, Juan Ospina, managed to prove that on that night he was at home through the geolocation of his phone and images from several security cameras.
His case was not just a deprivation of liberty; it was also a personal tragedy. Two months before, his brother had died of cancer. They were a family of three. When his brother died, only his mother and he remained. And then only his mother. "My brother had just died. My mother was alone, and I couldn't be with her. We used to be three, and now we are only two. My life changed suddenly," he states.
But that wasn't the only radical change that affected his life. The imprisonment also affected his romantic relationship. At that time, he was in a relationship with someone, and he confesses that there were "future intentions." "We had plans, and then she decided to leave," . Being in prison is not easy. Gael describes it as being similar to being in a micro-world. And when you get out, it's like starting over . "It's like arriving in a new world, again," he says. In fact, one of the things he noticed upon leaving prison is how difficult it was to reintegrate into the workforce. Although he mentions that he has completely achieved it. Today, he has his own car repair shop and also works as a driver.
To understand how this measure works and why it should be considered exceptional, as the law states, it is essential to know in which special cases it can be applied. In short, pretrial detention is used to ensure that the criminal process reaches its conclusion, that is, that the trial takes place. This measure is applied, for example, to prevent the possible escape of the suspect, protect the victim, prevent the destruction of evidence, or prevent the repetition of the crime.
The unusual case of Ahmed Tommouhi
It is impossible to talk about unjust imprisonment without thinking of Ahmed Tommouhi, a case that Crónica has extensively covered: the innocent man who spent 15 years in prison due to his extraordinary physical resemblance to Antonio Carbonell, a serial rapist. A young Moroccan woman, who had been assaulted, had mistaken him. After a series of serious judicial errors, Tommouhi, a 39-year-old Moroccan, was arrested in 1991 and sentenced in 1995 to over 100 years for six rapes and a violent robbery in Catalonia. Over time, through biological evidence; as well as the rectification of several of the victims who, at the time, believed they had recognized him, led Justice to suspect that there was another perpetrator, namely Carbonell, whose DNA was found on the garment of one of the victims.
The injustice of Tommouhi, the innocent man who spent 15 years in prison for rape: "It's good that the truth is finally known"
The (award-winning) reunion of the innocent Ahmed Tommohui and the Civil Guard Reyes Benítez: an injustice lasting 33 years
In May 2025, Justice definitively overturned the ruling against Tommouhi, declaring him innocent. However, when he requested compensation for this judicial error, the National Court rejected his request, considering it was not an "obvious judicial error."
More imprisonment, less compensation
In Spain, any person who undergoes unjust pretrial detention is entitled to receive financial compensation, but this was not always the case. This changed drastically after the reform of Article 294 of the Organic Law of the Judiciary in 2019. This modification expanded the right to compensation to all individuals who have been in pretrial detention, regardless of the form of acquittal; in other words, it became more accessible to claim compensation.
This same rule states that the amount should be calculated proportionally to the time spent in prison, but in practice, the reality is different. Paradoxically, the longer the time in confinement, the lower the compensation. This is the conclusion reached by Gabriel Doménech and Juan Luis Jiménez, two professors who analyzed 333 judicial resolutions between 1990 and 2023. According to the study, in short cases, the daily compensation can reach up to 100 euros, while in longer periods, it can drop to 25 euros, as was the case with Gael.
Another of their conclusions was that Spanish judges tend to value more the "immediate damage" of imprisonment than the long-term consequences, such as the loss of employment and psychological consequences.
Up to four years of imprisonment being innocent
Can a person be imprisoned for four years while being innocent? Yes, this is the maximum time a person can spend in pretrial detention in serious cases such as terrorism or organized crime, according to the Spanish Criminal Procedure Law. For offenses with a penalty exceeding three years, the initial period is two years. For offenses with penalties less than three years, the limit is one year.
However, this measure should be used only when strictly necessary, which is why it is known as exceptional. But this is not always the case. This is affirmed by Juan Ospina, who denounces the disproportionate use of this precautionary measure. "It is being used as an anticipated punishment, a resource that should be considered exceptional. This implies that we are going through a serious crisis of fundamental rights in the Spanish judicial system," he emphasizes.
Javier was a company manager. After the confinement, he suffers from claustrophobia, anxiety, and insomnia
It is like living in a "judicial limbo" and can lead to future mental problems, explains Carol Palacios, a clinical psychologist and mental health specialist. This represents an extreme emotional drain. "It can trigger anxiety disorders, post-traumatic stress, social isolation, depression, and depending on the case, and many other factors, suicide," . In fact, suicide is the leading cause of non-natural death in Spanish prisons.
Another concern that runs through law firms is the time an innocent person can spend in prison. For example, according to the General Council of the Judiciary, the majority of pretrial detentions in Spain do not exceed eight months. However, this average does not reflect the hundreds of people, like Gael, who remain imprisoned for much longer without a firm conviction.
What Javier—a fictitious name—experienced is another far-reaching case. He doesn't want to reveal his real name, but claims to have "an extensive professional career" and "no criminal record." That's why he was so shocked when he was arrested in 2013. "They threw me to the ground with a gun to my head, as if I were a terrorist," he recalls painfully. He spent three days in jail without a clear explanation of the reason for his arrest and was then sent to pretrial detention, "without bail or communication," he adds.
The only "clue" implicating him was a photograph in which he was seen talking to someone on the busy Montera Street in Madrid. The person he spoke to was linked to a group that counterfeited cards. Javier repeats that he "didn't know him at all" and that he only answered a passing question. The police assumed a connection based on that conversation.
Javier was able to get out of prison thanks to his lawyer requesting security camera footage from the area, proving that he was walking alone. However, he was imprisoned and spent 42 days in a small cell. "I was going through life peacefully, trusting that everything would be resolved. But when your life is destroyed like that, your mind is never the same again," he says.
Before entering prison, Javier had a quiet life. He worked as a manager for a bag company for large retailers. He lived with his wife, an economist. His son lived in England. "A normal, hard-working family," he summarizes. Today, as a result of his arrest, he suffers from claustrophobia, anxiety, and insomnia. "Five months ago, they couldn't perform a simple root canal. I can't stand closed spaces since then. Everything has changed for me," he laments.
The Great Criticism of the Judicial System
In Spain, the same judge who directs the investigation into the cases is the one who decides whether a person should be held in pretrial detention, a somewhat disturbing formula for several criminal lawyers who consider it a serious problem. "Unlike countries like France or Italy, where there is an independent judge who reviews these decisions, here there is no such key separation," protests criminal lawyer Juan Ospina. In his opinion, "many judges already assume the logic of: 'If the police say so, something must have happened.'"
For many law firms, this means that the investigating judge, "even if he or she is an upright judge, is influenced from the outset." In France, for example, there is a judicial body called the Juge des Libertés et de la Détention (JLD), responsible for reviewing, within a maximum of 24 hours of the arrest, the legality of the custodial measure requested by the Public Prosecutor's Office or the investigating judge. Their intervention is independent, and their decision can confirm or reject the request for pretrial detention.
Something similar happens in Italy, with separate functions to avoid conflicts of interest. Judges for Democracy tells Crónica that, while it is true that the same judge is the one who decides the precautionary measure, the decision or order must come through the Public Prosecutor's Office or a private individual.
The European Union has already kept an eye on Spain in this regard. In 2023, the Court of Justice of the European Union (CJEU) ordered the Spanish State to pay ¤15 million, plus a daily fine of ¤89,000, for failing to timely implement Directive (EU) 2016/680, which protects personal data and the rights of individuals in criminal proceedings, including pre-trial detention. This regulation was supposed to be in force by May 6, 2018, but Spain took years to adapt.
In Case C-658/19, the CJEU noted that Spain's failure to comply with this directive affects the procedural guarantees that should protect citizens during criminal proceedings. Not only that, but Spain historically has only a 5% acceptance rate for compensation claims for unjustified pre-trial detention, while the European Union average is 22%. These figures are provided by economist Juan Luis Jiménez in his analysis published in Nada es gratis (Nothing is free) (2023). This difference reflects a low compensation rate compared to other member countries.
"Going to prison changed my life"
Although several years have passed since Gael and Javier ended up in jail, they both agree that the impact of "unjust" pretrial detention remains present in their lives to this day. It's not just the lost time, it's the nightmares that, even after confinement, continue to plague various aspects of their lives.
Javier recounts how the after-effects of this experience manifest themselves even in everyday situations. "The other day, the Civil Guard stopped me at the A-32 toll booth at 8:00 a.m. The officer asked me what was wrong because he noticed my pulse was shaking. I told him nothing, but he insisted on knowing the reason. The truth is, I'm shaking because prison crushed my life. I was acquitted, but I'm not the same. Seeing a uniform upsets me; it affects me more than anyone can imagine," he concludes.