Elizabeth Ramirez served 17 years. Anna Vasquez was in for 12 1/2. Cassandra Rivera and Kristie Mayhugh were behind bars for 14 years each.
When you see them now, talking about their experiences in and now out of prison, you can't see all of what they've had to live with.
They've come a long way from many years of confinement. The many rough prison years and legal battles left them known as the San Antonio Four.
It's been more than two years, and the four women are still trying to adjust to their new lives on the outside. All the while, they are waiting for a judge's ruling on new developments in their cases that could free them for good -- or put them back behind bars.
THE INCIDENT
It all started in the summer of 1994. Ramirez was babysitting her two nieces, who were 7 and 9 years old at the time, while the other three women were visiting at her apartment.
Ramirez comes from a close-Knit family, and this was an ordinary night, as she recalls. It was no different from the many other times she had spent with her nieces, with whom she was very close.
About four months after that night, in November 1994, the 20-year-old and pregnant Ramirez remembers a knock at her door.
"I was at home in my apartment, and a detective came knocking at the door and asked to speak to me," Ramirez said. "He asked if I knew Javier, Stephanie and Vanessa, and I was like, 'Yeah, that's my brother-in-law and my nieces.' And he said, 'Do you know they accused you of sexually assaulting them?' And I was like, 'No.' And he said, 'Do you know why they would do that?' And I said, 'No, I have no idea because it never happened.'"
Ramirez was the first to be questioned about these sexual assault allegations. Within days, the other three women also got phone calls and visits from a detective.
"I got this call, and he said I was being accused of this crime," Vasquez recalled.
Vasquez was 19 years old, working at a fast-food restaurant and studying to go to medical school.
"He had asked me if I knew of any allegations being made about me and If I knew the alleged victims," Vasquez said. "I couldn't believe it, but I fully cooperated with him. He wanted me to go down to the police station, and I did."
Just like with her friends, the allegations caught Mayhugh by surprise.
"I was totally shocked about the whole situation. He just asked me If I could answer a few questions, and I said, 'Sure, no problems.' I didn't know I was actually giving my statement," Mayhugh said.
It was the beginning of a much deeper investigation, one that would change the women's lives forever.
Rivera was 19 years old and raising two toddlers as a single mother.
"I was young. I didn't know what was going on," Rivera said.
The women said they were asked to take a polygraph test.
"All of us passed it," Mayhugh said. "Elizabeth was the only one who couldn't take it because she was pregnant at the time."
They were confident that the investigation soon would all be over. They all thought it must be a mistake.
"They told us after the polygraph if we didn't hear from them in six months we would be free," Rivera said. "But of course, after six months expired, we were picked up at our jobs. I felt like it was going to be OK because we had done nothing wrong."
"We told the truth, but it became a massive nightmare."
THE DEFENSE
In March 1995, the four young women were taken to jail. Ramirez had just given birth three days earlier. Their families came up with the money to bail them out, then they hired an attorney.
"The appointed attorney was straight-forward," Vasquez said, "He said, 'You're going to lose, and if they come with an offer, I'm going to take it.' He didn't ask me, 'Can we take it?' He said, 'I'm going to take it.'"
Vasquez said the attorney told her that no one wants cases that go against children. The children always win.
She refused his offer and began searching for a new attorney.
"I may lose, but give me a chance. I'm willing to take that, but I want a chance to fight," she said.
The women were out on bond for the next three years before their trials began.
"Back then, it was just a blur," Rivera said. "People saw us for who we were: four lesbians, and we were young. They didn't know much about us."
In 1997, Ramirez, the accusers' aunt, was found guilty of aggravated sexual assault of a child and was sentenced to 37 1/2 years in prison.
"When I was on trial, they painted a pretty horrible picture," Ramirez recalled. "They were making it seem like it was a satanic ritual like we sacrificed them sexually to become this lesbian cult."
Vasquez, Rivera and Mayhugh were convicted a year after Ramirez and were sentenced to 15 years each.
They were offered a plea bargain: a 10-year probation instead of jail. But they all refused. It was a costly sacrifice, but one they believe had to be made.
"Every one of us had her own reasons behind it," Vasquez said. "I couldn't live with myself to take a plea bargain for something I didn't do."
"And you'd have that on your record forever to haunt you," Mayhugh added.
For the next decade, Ramirez and Rivera would not touch their children, who were only toddlers when they were separated from their mothers.
"He's going to be 21 now in March," Ramirez said.
She was afraid her son would never look at her the same way if she took a plea deal. She said that admitting guilt was not an option.
Ramirez maintained her innocence through the years, and she wanted her son to grow up knowing it. Rivera was no different.
"We all denied it even though she (Elizabeth) received 37 1/2 years," Rivera said, "They told us it was the best thing for us to do, otherwise we'd lose our lives. I had two small children and I didn't want to be away from them for that long, but I wasn't going to lay down and take that when I knew I had done nothing wrong. I wanted to fight it."
THE BREAKTHROUGH
The four women sat in prison year after year until August 2012, when there was finally a break in their cases.
The younger accuser of the two, Stephanie Limon Martinez, recanted her story.
Deborah Esquenazi, who was filming a documentary about the San Antonio Four, captured the moment on camera.
Stephanie was sitting in a car reading from a sheet of paper: "I'm sorry that it has taken this long for me to know what really happened," she said. "You must understand that I was told that I would end up in prison, even get my a** beat."
She was 25 years old and now a mother herself.
In a phone conversation, Stephanie told KENS 5, "You have to be brave and stand up to tell the truth, no matter how much time has passed. That's what I teach my kids now: Always tell the truth."
Stephanie declined an on-camera interview with KENS 5 upon her lawyer's advice, but during the phone conversation, she said she had been threatened by a family member and had been coached to lie about the sexual assault.
"I was only 7 years old at the time," she said. "I was scared and didn't know what to do."
Her older sister never recanted and insisted the sexual assault happened. Because of the conflicting stories, Stephanie's recantation wasn't enough to let the women out of jail. But a law passed by the Texas Legislature the next year made an even bigger dent in the cases against the four women.
Lawmakers approved legislation known as the "Junk Science Writ." It was the first law of its kind in the United States, allowing inmates who were convicted using unreliable or outdated forensics to appeal their conviction and seek a new trial.
Defense attorney Mike Ware, who is also executive director of the Innocence Project of Texas, was representing the women at the time.
"Children in particular can be easily manipulated by adults or by law enforcement who have an agenda," Ware said. "In this case, the agenda was even further reinforced by the fact they had this erroneous medical diagnosis that was kind of fueling the investigation at the time."
"What this case shows me is how an erroneous medical diagnosis at the beginning of the investigation can set a case on the completely wrong road," Ware said. "That's what happened in this case. There was completely erroneous medical diagnosis of these two girls (the accusers) back then."
Because of the new "junk science" law, the testimony of an expert medical witness used to convict them was found to be inconclusive. A judge recommended that the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals vacate the four women's convictions.
"The DA's office, which has handled this case with the utmost integrity, has agreed that the scientific testimony that was so instrumental in wrongfully convicting these four women was actually completely false," Ware said. "That evidence was physical indications that the girls had been sexually abused, and we now know this is completely wrong... and that new science proves that."
MOVING FORWARD
Just days before Thanksgiving in 2013, the women had plenty of cause to be thankful. They were walking out of prison with tears in their eyes and the sound of cheering from close family members and friends eagerly waiting for them.
Ramirez held her son for the first time in 17 years.
"I saw him and gave him a hug, and that was the first time he told me he loved me, and I about died that night," Ramirez said.
Vasquez, who had been out on parole for a year already, no longer would have to meet strict parole requirements.
"You can't imagine what we've seen. You can't imagine what we've been through, what we've heard," Vasquez said. "Prison life is a completely different life."
But despite all of the good news, the four women's cases are not closed.
"What we're waiting for now is complete justice," Ware said, "and the system provides for complete justice in a case like this."
The women have been out on personal bond for almost 2 1/2 years. They had an evidentiary hearing In April 2015, and Ware said the judge is re-examining the case.
Right now, all they can do is wait.
"We've done everything we can do," Ware said. "I believe the district attorney's office has done everything they can do, and we're waiting for the judge to make his decision."
The judge's recommendation will either be to exonerate the women or not. His recommendation will then go to the Court of Criminal Appeals.
There is no deadline. The judge's decision could come tomorrow or could take years.
KENS 5 contacted the Bexar County District Attorney's Office. They responded with this emailed statement:
"Since this is a pending case, we will withhold comment at this time. Presently, the Bexar County Criminal District Attorney's Office does not plan to re-try these cases. However, a final decision will be made after the Court of Criminal Appeals issues their ruling."
THE FUTURE
For now, the women, who are all in their 40s, say they continue to dream of living a normal life.
Despite felony convictions still on their records and being under supervision, all four have found jobs.
They're enjoying the new lives they missed while behind bars.
"Don't take anything for granted," said Rivera, who's now a grandmother. "Life is too short."
There is a possibility that they will not be exonerated, so they're taking advantage of every minute possible with their families.
"I wouldn't know how I'd react if I had to go back," Ramirez said. "It's like having a taste of life, then it's taken away again."
"It's a fear. We've been there before and we know it can happen again," she said. "But we're still sticking with it. And we'll continue to fight and we are not giving up."
