6 August 20 - 26, 2026 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER Classified | MusiC | dish | Culture | unfair Park | Contents MONTH XX–MONTH XX, 2026 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER | CLASSIFIED | MUSIC | DISH | MOVIES | CULTURE | NIGHT+DAY | FEATURE | SCHUTZE | UNFAIR PARK | CONTENTS | while in prison. Then, on the last Sunday of February, she told me she had been attacked in the prison church. She told me another prisoner stepped in when she was being attacked and was stabbed while protecting her. Gaby barely escaped the incident without any major in- juries. But instead of feeling protected after- ward, she said she was placed in an outdoor enclosure, where she spent three days. After that, she was placed in solitary confinement. Ever since then, she’s been in and out of soli- tary confinement in multiple prisons. I needed to see her, especially after talking with her over the phone after all of that went down. Gaby had told me, “I don’t feel safe telling you on the phone. Please come see me in person.” I didn’t have transportation at the time. Her mother and father helped me get a rental car and paid for the gas. Because of the ICE raids happening throughout Texas and the country, they were afraid to travel themselves. I went to Stiles on March 14. A horrible day. Gaby didn’t know I was coming, and when she saw me, she started crying. She looked very disheveled and completely out of it. This wasn’t the Gaby me or her family knew. The first thing she said was, “Thank you for coming.” Then she started telling me what she was afraid of. I wasn’t allowed a pen, paper or anything to write with. So we had to constantly keep repeating everything we talked about. I didn’t want to forget anything. “I think they want to kill me,” she said, over and over. “They’re going to do it. They’re going to do it, and if you don’t get me out of here, I’m going to die.” Then she told me she tried reporting the incident in the church, but she was worried her complaints would be shared with the same people that attacked her. I told her to give me the names of individuals and de- scribe them so I know, and I can be as de- scriptive as possible in our complaint or request to TDCJ. Then she told me she re- ceived a note warning her that her food was poisoned. The whole conversation was mind-bog- gling. I was sitting there thinking, “Is this re- ally happening?” Prison is supposed to be a place with all kinds of monitoring. They’re supposed to have oversight. But she felt just as victim- ized by the guards as she was by the other prisoners. After that visit, I started putting together what she had told me. I emailed TDCJ, tell- ing them everything Gaby shared and asking why she was still held in isolation off and on. They responded with a lengthy list of steps Gaby needed to take to advocate for herself and return to the general population. She followed the steps. Finally, Gaby was transferred from Stiles to another prison. I thought, maybe this would mean something would change. Instead, when she contacted me after her transfer, she told me she was still in solitary. It made no sense to me. If the reason she was in solitary was that she was supposedly being protected from the people who had threatened her at Stiles, then why was she still isolated after being moved somewhere else? For a while, communication became an- other problem. Gaby’s tablet broke. She told me the prison wouldn’t provide another until her family deposited money in her Securus ac- count, but even when they did, Gaby didn’t receive another tablet. For weeks, we were hearing through other people. She would see people walking by and ask them to tell us she still didn’t have a way to communicate with her family. Eventually, after I kept calling the jail and asking what was going on, she got a tablet. From my perspective, it was clear the prison didn’t want Gaby telling the world what was happening. Then came the handcuffs. On a Tuesday in June, Gaby spoke to her mother after I connected the call. She told her mom the guards weren’t bringing her any food. She was also being physically restrained with handcuffs inside her cell. I couldn’t understand it. If someone’s al- ready in solitary, what’s the purpose of handcuffing them? Gaby herself didn’t understand it either. Her mother asked her why they were doing it, and Gaby had no idea. I started thinking about the bigger picture. I couldn’t personally say why prison offi- cials were doing this. I could only say what I was seeing and what Gaby was telling us. But I kept coming back to the fact that Gaby is transgender. There are other transgender people in the Texas prison system who have been placed in so-called protective custody after receiving death threats. And protective cus- tody can mean solitary confinement. I couldn’t ignore what I was hearing. Gaby’s mother and family kept calling. They kept asking the prison to help. We kept calling even when we weren’t getting answers. As summer approached, her calls to us became less frequent. She wasn’t getting enough food, and her family was struggling with anxiety. And I kept thinking about the woman I saw at Stiles in March. That’s when she looked at me and cried. Then she told me she thought she was going to die. I still have that moment in my head. That’s why I keep calling. That’s why I keep asking questions. That’s why I’m still trying to understand why all this harm was done to a person who was attacked. And that’s why I keep trying to get somebody to listen. Because Gaby has already told us what she is afraid of. She’s already told us she doesn’t feel safe. She’s already told us what she thinks is happening to her. And she’s still there. Editor’s note: The United Nations says solitary confinement lasting longer than 15 consecutive days is considered torture. In the days prior to the publication of this story, Vidana Pereyra had an immigration hearing. Her communication with her family and Monroe is still sporadic, so the results of that hearing were unclear at press time. She is currently being held in the Thomas Gorree Unit in Huntsville, a men’s prison. Courtesy of Stacey Monroe Joe Raedle / Newsmakers / Getty Images Gaby Vidana Pereyra (left) is currently incarcerated at the Thomas Gorree Unit in Huntsville, a men’s prison. Worried about my friend from p5 “I couldn’t understand it. If someone’s already in solitary, what’s the purpose of handcuffing them?”
