Frens J.H. DOLS
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I was here in 1997 because my son (24) was convicted 10 years for bringing extacy into the country. I went with his little brothers 12 and 14. I cried non-stop going there, tears running. I was disoriented when I crossed the street toward the walls. A queu of mostly women was waiting, glaring at this crying man with 2 children. Then a richly dressed and elegant woman came to me, spoke english, guided me toward the entrance and helped me through the formalities (I had a different name, so they were unwilling to let me visit him). We spoke for 30 minutes. He was uneasy, a bit reserved.
2 years later he could come back, and our judge ruled he could go free. Now, I looked up this building because yesterday my son died from brain tumor, 48 years old. I am crying again.