Behind bars

The sound of an accordion penetrates the arcades of the Santiago de Compostela Cathedral. It is 2006. To any indifferent bystander, Alexandra is just one of the many street musicians who occasionally play near the Spanish religious landmark. Never once does she acknowledge the audience, nor does she look up when a familiar face tries to meet her eyes. When someone questions her, two suspicious individuals are quick to approach them. The cathedral’s clock strikes 6pm. It is time for Alexandra to take the 100 mile daily route that will lead her to the prison cell she has been staying at for the past five years. 

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Alexandra Pinheiro was never the average girl. Born and raised in a small provincial town in the North of Portugal, her childhood friends remember her as an outcast with no clearly defined personality and easily influenced by others. She was seen as the lanky, awkward figure in school who carried her accordion everywhere. It came as a surprise to all, when in 1989 newspapers announced her name was among Interpol’s list of dangerous terrorists.

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Alexandra initially moved to Spain to study a foundation course that would allow her to pursue medicine at university. These plans were halted when she fell in love with the leader of a terrorist group, which aimed to render Galicia an independent territory and establish a socialist regime. “It felt like I was his priority in life, and I had never had that before. I made his ideals my own,” she said. Alexandra soon started fighting for a nationalist cause that wasn’t her own.

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A failed attack, which killed one police officer and wounded another, dictated her fate. While some members of the group were arrested, Alexandra was able to escape and lived hidden for two years under the fake name of Patricia.

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Her family only heard from her when she was detained in 1991. She was sentenced to 80 years and locked in a high security prison near Madrid. Alexandra wasn’t allowed any personal items, visits, or correspondence, after she failed to show regret for her actions in court. “I’ve now matured and am fully aware of my responsibilities. I try not to look back in time. It’s too painful,” she says.  

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Christmas 2001 marked the date Alexandra was transferred to Coruña, North of Spain, and given some privileges: she lived freely during the day, but had to be back in prison at night. She started busking in Santiago while still being monitored by undercover policemen. She travelled often to the border between Spain and Portugal, since it was the only way she could see her family.

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Now, three years after she was released, her face is creased by the disenchantments she encountered during her 54 year life. Her ultimate dream of living in a country house was cut short by the recent death of her partner. She is back living in her parents’ house, which she inherited, and suffers from a degenerative disease that has gradually impaired her. “Karma, perhaps? I just think of it as another punishment I have to deal with to survive,” Alexandra says.

Today many think of her as a villain, others see her as a victim. She continues to be an outsider, this time the one with the bizarre story.