More than a decade ago, filmmaker Debra Granik met Coss Marte in a diner on Manhattan’s Lower East Side, where he described an idea that many investors and employers initially dismissed as unrealistic: a fitness business staffed almost entirely by people returning from prison.

Marte, a former drug dealer who had spent years incarcerated before the age of 27, had developed a personal prison-cell workout routine while serving time and emerged with a plan to turn that discipline into a business model. His proposal was simple but unconventional for New York’s boutique fitness market build a gym where formerly incarcerated people would not only find work, but also become trainers, mentors and examples of successful re-entry into society.

That idea became Conbody, a fitness company that now stands as both a business and a social intervention in one of New York City’s most rapidly changing neighborhoods.

It is also the subject of Conbody vs Everybody, Granik’s five-hour documentary series released on the Criterion Channel in the United States, tracing more than a decade of struggle, expansion and institutional resistance around Marte’s effort to create employment pathways away from the prison system.

Granik, known for films such as Winter’s Bone and Leave No Trace, originally intended to make a drama about life after incarceration. Instead, she found in Marte a long-form documentary subject whose personal story reflected broader structural questions about criminal justice, housing, labor access and urban inequality.

“He was defying all the odds,” Granik said, reflecting on their first meeting. Marte’s ambition was not only to avoid returning to prison, but to build an enterprise that could help others avoid the same cycle. “He was using all his energy to not get re-ensnared in the criminal justice system,” she said.

Marte grew up on the Lower East Side as the son of Dominican immigrants. His mother worked in a clothing factory and his father operated a neighborhood bodega. After returning from prison, he found that the area had changed dramatically. Boutique fitness studios were multiplying, rents were rising and wealthier residents were moving into what had long been a working-class immigrant neighborhood.

He recognized both a challenge and an opportunity. He believed affluent customers would pay for intense bodyweight workouts modeled on prison training routines, particularly if the business was framed around second chances and social impact. Conbody marketed its classes with slogans such as “do the time,” combining hard physical training with the personal narratives of its instructors.

Marte proved adept at navigating two worlds at once. He sold customers on the fitness experience while persuading investors to support a business model many viewed as too risky because of its workforce. Some openly questioned whether formerly incarcerated employees could be trusted in a customer-facing environment.

The skepticism reflected a broader contradiction in the startup culture of the mid-2010s, Granik said: the public celebration of entrepreneurship as universally accessible often collapsed when social stigma and financial gatekeeping entered the picture. Investors praised innovation in theory, but many hesitated when the founders or staff had criminal records.

The barriers extended beyond funding. One early Conbody location was forced to move because it shared a building with a preschool, raising objections over the presence of former prisoners nearby. Some employees also faced parole restrictions that made ordinary employment nearly impossible. In certain cases, associating with other formerly incarcerated people could itself violate parole terms, creating what Granik described as institutional mechanisms that made re-entry harder rather than easier.

One of the documentary’s early episodes follows Marte and trainer Sultan Malik trying to help a coworker jailed at Rikers Island over parole violations tied to commuting from Long Island to teach fitness classes in Manhattan. The case highlighted how employment itself could become a legal risk for people trying to rebuild their lives.As the business stabilized financially, the role of Conbody expanded.

It became not only a workplace but also an informal support system for employees navigating housing insecurity, grief and rejection from mainstream employers.The documentary follows Tommy, who after spending 27 years incarcerated struggles to secure stable housing and temporarily sleeps at the gym.

Another trainer, Jamal, faces the loss of his son to gun violence. Syretta, one of the few female instructors and someone rebuilding life after nearly 23 years in prison, works toward ending years of parole supervision while establishing herself professionally in fitness.

Many employees secured interviews with mainstream gyms only to be turned away once criminal background checks were completed. The pattern reinforced a reality Marte frequently confronted: society often speaks of rehabilitation while maintaining barriers that make reintegration financially and socially fragile.

The physical transformation of the Lower East Side runs parallel to the human stories in the documentary. Luxury apartment towers replaced older tenement buildings, and commercial rents surged. Real estate marketing promoted the area as a place “at the intersection of grit and glamour,” while longtime residents and small businesses faced displacement.Conbody itself was forced to relocate after its lease was not renewed.

In one sequence, Marte and his team walk through vacant storefronts where monthly rents ranged from $20,000 to $30,000, figures that placed long-term survival in constant doubt.The documentary also captures one of the decade’s stranger symbols of urban branding: Conbody running a prison-themed fitness pop-up inside Saks Fifth Avenue, complete with chain-link fence imagery and staged “mug shots” for clients.

The luxury retailer reportedly viewed the concept as a way to increase foot traffic and encourage shopping through experiential fitness.For Granik, these moments illustrated gentrification not as an abstract policy term, but as a daily accumulation of notices, rent increases and quiet removals. She said the neighborhood’s transformation became inseparable from the story of re-entry because economic displacement and criminal stigma often reinforced each other.

Politics also entered the family story. Marte’s younger brother, Christopher Marte, became active in organizing against displacement and privatization, later winning election to the New York City Council in 2022 after years of grassroots activism and involvement in Black Lives Matter protests.

Coss Marte, initially more focused on private entrepreneurship than public protest, gradually expanded his own advocacy beyond business. By the end of the documentary, he is visiting prisons across the country, leading fitness classes and speaking directly with incarcerated people about life after release.

He argues that meaningful justice begins not at sentencing reform but at re-entry through immediate work, housing and income rather than symbolic second chances.“I feel like what we’re doing is real justice,” Marte said. “It’s a different justice when you get out and you have a check in week one, instead of $40 and a bus ticket.”In New York, about 188,000 people are released from prison each year, a figure cited throughout the documentary.

Conbody and Marte’s cannabis business, Conbud, employ only dozens of them, but he sees each job as a direct challenge to a system built around permanent exclusion.The team now works with youth in juvenile facilities, trains people inside Rikers Island and continues hiring formerly incarcerated workers. Marte says the goal is not simply employment, but changing how people view those leaving prison.“If they’re seeing somebody come out of the system,” he said, “look at them different and change perceptions.”

Kyrgyzstan has reaffirmed its commitment to abolishing the death penalty following a period of intense public debate triggered by a high-profile criminal case, with authorities and international partners emphasizing prevention and rule-of-law reforms as more effective responses to violent crime.

The debate emerged after the rape and murder of a young girl in September 2025, which prompted widespread public outrage and calls for the reinstatement of capital punishment. The issue quickly gained political traction, culminating in a formal proposal by President Sadyr Japarov to seek a constitutional review of whether the death penalty could be reintroduced.

The Constitutional Court delivered its ruling on 10 December 2025, concluding that reinstating capital punishment would violate Kyrgyzstan’s international treaty obligations, which are embedded within its constitutional framework. The decision effectively blocked any immediate return to the death penalty and reinforced the country’s legal commitments under international law.

Kyrgyzstan has maintained a moratorium on executions since 1998 and formally abolished the death penalty in 2010 following its ratification of the Second Optional Protocol to the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. The protocol obliges signatory states to take all necessary measures to prevent the reintroduction of capital punishment.

The United Nations human rights office played a consultative role throughout the process. According to Matilda Bogner, Regional Representative for Central Asia, the office engaged with both executive and judicial authorities to provide guidance on international legal standards and treaty obligations.

“It is positive to see that despite an initiative that appeared to have strong public backing but did not comply with international obligations, the rule of law approach ultimately prevailed in Kyrgyzstan,” Bogner said.The episode has also prompted broader discussions within the country about the nature of justice, particularly in cases involving serious violent crime.

While public sentiment in the aftermath of the incident favored harsher punitive measures, international human rights officials have argued that such approaches are not supported by evidence as effective deterrents.UN High Commissioner for Human Rights Volker Türk said that while the crimes cited by authorities were “clearly appalling” and required accountability, there is no empirical basis to conclude that capital punishment reduces the incidence of serious offenses.

He called instead for responses grounded in prevention, victim protection, and institutional strengthening.Türk emphasized the need for a “well-resourced, victim-centred approach” to tackling violence, particularly sexual and gender-based violence.

This approach, he said, should focus on improving access to justice and ensuring that systems are capable of responding effectively to early warning signs.Bogner echoed this perspective, noting that a predictable and consistent rule-of-law framework is more effective in preventing violence than reintroducing capital punishment into a system that may lack uniformity in enforcement. “A rule of law process that is predictable is a better form of prevention of egregious cases,” she said.

The focus on prevention has translated into ongoing institutional reforms. The UN human rights office is working with Kyrgyzstan’s Ministry of Internal Affairs to develop a new risk assessment system aimed at strengthening early intervention in cases of gender-based violence. The system is intended to enable law enforcement agencies to identify potential risks, monitor evolving situations, and take timely action to prevent escalation.

Authorities in Kyrgyzstan have also reiterated their commitment to upholding international legal standards following the Constitutional Court’s decision. Officials, including representatives from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, have emphasized the importance of maintaining adherence to the rule of law while addressing public concerns over safety and justice.

The case highlights the challenges faced by governments in balancing public demand for punitive measures with international legal obligations and evidence-based policy approaches. It also underscores the broader shift in international human rights discourse toward prevention-focused strategies, particularly in addressing gender-based violence.

Efforts to strengthen legal and institutional frameworks are seen as critical to improving outcomes for victims. This includes ensuring that police and judicial systems are adequately resourced, capable of responding promptly to complaints, and equipped to handle sensitive cases involving women and girls.

The UN human rights office has indicated that its engagement with Kyrgyz authorities will continue, with a focus on building systems that prioritize accountability and prevention. The approach aligns with broader international efforts to address gender-based violence through structural reforms rather than punitive escalation.

The developments in Kyrgyzstan reflect an evolving policy stance in which adherence to international obligations and evidence-based approaches are being prioritized over retributive measures, even in the face of strong public pressure following serious criminal incidents.

The suspect, Park Wang-yeol, was serving a 60-year sentence for the murder of three South Koreans when he was transferred to Seoul for investigation.

Authorities said the extradition was arranged after President Lee Jae Myung requested cooperation from Philippine President Ferdinand Marcos Jr during a summit earlier.

Officials from South Korea’s foreign and justice ministries said the transfer was conducted under a temporary clause that suspends the inmate’s sentence in the Philippines to allow prosecution at home. Park arrived in Seoul under police escort and was immediately placed in custody.

Authorities allege that Park, believed to be 47, orchestrated a drug trafficking operation from prison, coordinating with accomplices in South Korea to smuggle and distribute large quantities of illegal narcotics.

Justice ministry and police officials declined to confirm details regarding the scale or financial value of the operation. However, some local media reports have estimated that the network distributed up to 60 kilograms of methamphetamine per month, with a street value of around 30 billion won (about $20 million).

South Korea has reported a steady rise in illegal drug use in recent years, despite stringent enforcement measures and crackdowns targeting imports and domestic distribution networks.

Security concerns over prison operationsOfficials said Park had escaped from Philippine custody twice, citing lapses in prison supervision that allegedly allowed inmates access to smuggled mobile phones to continue criminal activities.

In a statement, South Korea’s foreign ministry said bringing Park to trial domestically was necessary to prevent similar cases of criminals directing illegal operations while incarcerated abroad.

President Lee also expressed gratitude to Marcos, stating that authorities would pursue individuals harming the country “to the end of the earth.

”Philippine officials were not immediately available for comment.