TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/082691/0826100.000

Text File | 1992-10-20 | 12.2 KB | 255 lines

                ≡*¥|                                                        ╚NATION, Page 16

WAR ON DRUGS

Day of Reckoning


As Noriega prepares to stand trial, Washington braces for
embarrassing disclosures -- but no one expects Panama's
ex-dictator to go free

By CATHY BOOTH/MIAMI -- With reporting by Ricardo Chavira/
Washington


    It is just after 8 a.m. on Sept. 23, 1985. Ken Kennedy,
assistant special agent in charge of Miami's Drug Enforcement
Administration office, is cruising down I-75, the Everglades
Parkway, in his big blue Olds Delta 88. Over his two-way radio,
Kennedy hears the squawk of an Air Force Black Hawk helicopter
that is tracking a drug-laden plane from Colombia. The dope
runner decides to land his plane on an unfinished section of
I-75, not far from where Kennedy happens to be. "The copter guys
are yelling, `We have him!' " recalls Kennedy. "And I'm looking
everywhere trying to find this guy."

    Kennedy snaps on his blue roof light and hits the gas.
Within minutes, he reaches the Cessna 441. Its props are still
turning, but the pilot has fled into the dense, swampy
undergrowth. Dressed for the office in a suit and loafers,
Kennedy pulls a Walther PPK from his ankle holster and gamely
wades in, immediately losing a shoe to the muck. Reinforcements
soon join him, and the search goes on for hours. Though the
pilot manages to evade them, Kennedy and his colleagues seize
nearly a ton of cocaine from the abandoned plane.

    They didn't know it then, but that was the start of one of
the most remarkable episodes in the history of U.S. law
enforcement: the capture and prosecution of General Manuel
Antonio Noriega, head of the Panama Defense Forces and "Maximum
Leader" of his country. The Cessna's pilot, captured four months
later, provided the first testimony linking the strongman to
drug running. On Sept. 3, almost six years after that steamy
chase, Noriega will walk into downtown Miami's federal
courthouse to face a 12-count indictment. He is charged with
taking $4.6 million in payoffs between 1981 and 1986 and turning
Panama into the ultimate full-service center for Colombian drug
lords, offering everything from secure landing strips and labs
to money laundering and passports for dealers on the run. If
convicted on all 12 counts, Nori ega faces 145 years'
imprisonment and $1,145,000 in fines.

    Noriega's court appearance will be all the more amazing
because few expected to see him stand trial when the indictments
first came down in 1988. The State Department, with President
Reagan's approval, tried to negotiate his quick departure from
power by offering to drop charges. But Noriega wouldn't budge.
On Dec. 20, 1989, in what was probably the most destructive and
expensive manhunt in history, George Bush launched a full-scale
invasion of, Panama. Two weeks later, wearing a nondescript T
shirt and handcuffs, Noriega was whisked to Miami, where his
pockmarked face and glassy-eyed gaze were captured in a police
mug shot of Prisoner No. 41586. For the first time in history,
the U.S. was about to try the leader of a foreign country.

    For the past 20 months, Noriega has been awaiting trial in
what has been dubbed the Dictator's Suite, a two-room cell
behind rows of barbed wire at the Metropolitan Correctional
Center, south of Miami. In accordance with the Geneva
Conventions, he is considered a prisoner of war and thus
receives 80 Swiss francs (U.S.$50) a month from the U.S.
government -- more than enough to pay for a steady supply of his
favorite cookies, Oreos. He spends his time studying classified
documents, talking on his government-tapped phone and watching
Spanish-language soap operas. Like many a cornered scoundrel,
he claims to have undergone a sudden religious conversion.

    On the face of it, bringing Noriega to justice seems to be
an unqualifiedly good idea. Who wouldn't applaud the downfall
of an odious dictator and the return of Panamanian democracy
after 21 years of military rule? Unfortunately, things are not
that simple. From Noriega's seizure in Panama to his long
incarceration without bail, the U.S. government's relentless
pursuit of the general has been a cause for concern to civil
libertarians and constitutional experts.

    "By the time Noriega gets done with the system, this case
will do more damage to American justice than he could possibly
have done as a dictator," complains New York University law
professor Burt Neuborne, former legal director of the American
Civil Liberties Union. Justice Department officials insist that
the deposed tyrant will be tried strictly on the merits of the
indictment, but some in Washington admit that the trial is
profoundly political. "The guy was a de facto head of state,"
says an Administration official. "So how can you say the trial
isn't political?"

    That is precisely what the defense team, headed by
Noriega's flamboyant lead counsel, Frank Rubino, has been saying
all along. Rubino, one of Miami's savviest drug-case lawyers,
claims the charges were manufactured because of Noriega's
refusal to commit Panamanian soldiers to an invasion of
Nicaragua at the request of the U.S. "Just a drug case, huh? Do
you believe in the tooth fairy too?" says Rubino. "Like it or
not, General Noriega has been an asset of the CIA, the National
Security Agency and other government agencies for 20 some
years."

    Especially troubling to the government is the defense
strategy of dredging up Noriega's role in covert U.S. operations
just as the Iran-contra scandal is re-emerging. Where the trail
will lead no one knows. Noriega was an important player in the
training and resupply of the Nicaraguan rebels. An earlier
investigation into Noriega's gunrunning was discouraged by
Washington, primarily because of former White House aide Oliver
North's involvement; but rumors of drug running by CIA pilots
to pay for contra guns have persisted. "The story has never been
proved or disproved, but there is the nagging wonder," says a
former Central American diplomat. "If it proved true, the mess
could end up on George Bush's back."

    Four years ago, in fact, when Bush was running for the
presidency, questions about what he knew of Noriega's
drug-running activities while he headed the CIA and while
serving as Vice President dogged his campaign. Some cynics
believe the Administration will cut a secret deal with Noriega
to avoid explosive disclosures at a trial that is likely to drag
on into the 1992 presidential campaign. Others, like former
Panamanian President Ricardo de la Espriella, disagree. "I don't
think Noriega has anything on Bush," he says. "It's a bluff. It
will be Noriega's word against Bush's. [Noriega] is
destroyed."

    Hoping to expose Noriega's links to Washington, defense
lawyers have been battling all summer behind the closed doors
of U.S. District Court Judge William Hoeveler's ninth-floor
chambers in Miami. Their goal: winning the release of classified
documents. But many of the texts already made available have
hardly proved revealing. Censors have taken a giant white-out
brush to entire pages on Noriega's dealings with Bush, North and
the late CIA Director William Casey. In a 41-page order that is
still secret, Hoeveler this month gave the defense access to
classified documents that Rubino claims will help him prove that
Noriega dealt with drug traffickers as part of a
Washington-sanctioned arrangement. "Many of the things General
Noriega did," Rubino argues, "he did for and on behalf of the
U.S. government."

    The government has already admitted that Noriega was paid
$320,000 by the CIA and the Defense Intelligence Agency for
information that ranged from "incidental" to the Panamanian
government's stance in the canal negotiations in 1976. The
defense, however, claims that the general also had control of
an $11 million slush fund from which, on Washington's behalf,
he allegedly supplied the Nicaraguan contras and spied on
Castro. Prosecutors are braced for any such bad-news revelations
and expect the CIA, DEA and DIA to have some dirty laundry
aired.

    Leaked debriefings from Noriega's inner circle shed
considerable light on his many shady dealings, from arms
transactions with Libyans and North Koreans to
intelligence-sharing with the Cubans. But none of his former
high-ranking officers say Noriega ever moved drugs or even
formed a partnership with the Colombian drug lords. Former Major
Felipe Camargo did confirm that Noriega received a
multimillion-dollar bribe from Colombian drug lords in 1984 in
exchange for safe haven in Panama. But Camargo also said the
only bid by the general's men to get into the drug business in
a major way was an unsuccessful attempt by Colonel Julian Melo
to process cocaine at Darien in Panama.

    Though Noriega may disclose embarrassing details about his
ties to Washington, his chances of beating federal case
88-79-CR look dim. The Justice Department and the DEA have
launched a full-court press against him, with at least a dozen
federal prosecutors and 25 DEA agents working on the case for
the past year and a half. Although the State Department long
viewed the Noriega indictment as a handy political stick with
which to oust a greedy and unsavory ally, the Miami prosecution
team sees it as a pure and simple drug case. "The alpha and
omega of this case is narcotrafficking and personal enrichment,"
says Tom Cash, special agent in charge of the DEA's Miami
office. "This case will be based on what Joe Friday in Dragnet
used to say, `Just the facts, ma'am.' "

    To assemble those facts, DEA agents have tracked down more
than 1,000 leads in Texas, Mexico, Chile, Canada, Germany,
France, Belgium and even South Korea. Prosecutors have lined up
a formidable rogues' gallery of drug dealers, dope pilots, shady
businessmen and former Noriega military cronies to testify
against him. The star witness will be Panamanian pilot Floyd
Carlton Caceres, who claims he was the general's point man with
the Medellin cartel. In addition, six of the 15 men indicted
along with Noriega have been convicted and have turned state's
evidence in exchange for a promise of leniency.

    "General Noriega," grouses Rubino, "has been the greatest
get-out-of-jail card ever." Rubino estimates that the government
cut as many as 70 special deals to get testimony against the
general. Tony Aizprua, the pilot whose plane landed on I-75,
served no time at all, while Noriega's trusted bagman Lieut.
Colonel Luis del Cid got his 70-year sentence reduced to a
10-year maximum. Another defendant who is presumably trying to
cut a deal is Ricardo Bilonick, a Tulane-educated lawyer who was
whisked back from Panama last week to face charges of running
cocaine on his Panamanian cargo airline, Inair.

    To a number of legal experts, the prosecutors' zeal in
pursuing the case has raised troubling questions about America's
justice system. Judge Hoeveler has said he is "deeply concerned
about the image that this case seems to be acquiring, that the
defendant is not going to be able to get a fair trial." Two
issues in particular have prompted delays in the proceedings:
Nori ega's inability to pay lawyers because his bank accounts
were frozen, and the taping of his attorney-client phone calls
from prison.

    The civil liberties aspect of the Noriega case is
"unprecedented and somewhat disturbing," says Charles Maechling
Jr., a specialist in international law. Lawyers point
specifically to Noriega's long pretrial incarceration without
an opportunity for bail. Some experts are also worried that
Noriega's lawyers haven't fully explored his POW status or the
jurisdictional question of kidnapping him and bringing him to
Miami to trial. "How would we feel about Libyan squads coming
to the U.S. to extract Islamic justice?" wonders Alfred Rubin,
professor of international law at Tufts University.

    No doubt Bush would have preferred Noriega to follow the
Duvaliers and Marcoses into a disgraced if opulent retirement.
Instead the Administration will have the general trumpeting his
accusations in court for at least the next six months and then
through a lengthy appeals process. If there's any consolation
for Bush, it is that no one expects Noriega to go free.