Showing posts with label Extradition. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Extradition. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

The Vatican Gets Tough

Wow—strong stuff.
True, the Vatican announced recently that Jozef Wesolowski, the former Papal Nuncio to the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico who is the highest-ranking official in the Catholic Church to be charged with child sexual abuse, won’t be extradited either to Poland or the Dominican Republic. Why? Because he’s in the diplomatic corps of the Vatican, which doesn’t permit extradition.
This was announced a few days ago and discussed in Geneva, Switzerland, in what The Telegraph called “an unprecedented grilling” by the United Nations. Instead, he will face trial in the Vatican. And, assuming he’s found guilty, he’ll serve time there.
Very convenient, because... Dominican jails? Well, Puerto Rico got an earful about them when a journalist ventured off to the Dominican Republic and got herself into some trouble over a little cocaine deal. So the island stood on its ear for months and watched as she got tried and convicted.
I’ve tried to google “Dominican Republic jails” but guess what? The Internet is off somewhere in a meeting—presumably on how to be capricious, willful, and completely unreliable, as well as maddening—so this account of Laura Hernández is completely from memory.
But if memory serves, the Dominicans start with the presumption of guilty until proven innocent—a nice little Caribbean twist on things. And unlike the United States, which according to today’s edition of The New York Times is seeing a surge in request for Kosher meals (which are better and four times more expensive than regular prison fare), Dominican jails tend to offer a more basic experience. Which is to say that the family has to bring in the food, personal hygiene items, and pretty much everything else. And as I remember it, the floor was dirt. Nor was there a bed….
And so for a period of several years, the island was treated to pictures of Hernández, who was reliably sobbing, and the inhumane, awful treatment she was receiving. And then, one day—presumably after some pressure from the United States—Hernández was freed.
Well, Wesolowski had a habit of drinking beer—very Caribbean—and walking the MalecónCaribbean, yes, but, in this case, an area associated with kids who provide services not encouraged by the Catholic Church. Officially, that is.
So the top guy in the church went off and told the new pope—whom we’re all in love with—that the Dominican press was about to out Wesolowski and another Polish priest. And what happened? Did the Vatican follow its own rules—which as I remember require the offending clergy to be turned over to local authorities and jurisdiction? Nope—the Polish priest returned to Poland, and Wesolowski was recalled to the Vatican. And also, if memory serves, there were rumors swirling about false travel documents.
Well, whatever the Vatican is going to do, it has acted swiftly and decisively in at least one action. And that would be? They photoshopped him out of an official picture. Here’s the Telegraph on the subject:
In the original picture, he appears smiling in the second row, wearing a dog collar, black vestments and a heavy crucifix.
But in the re-touched photograph, his head has been replaced by that of an emeritus bishop, Francisco José Arnáiz.
The Huffington Post, writing of Wesolowski, said this:
His case has raised questions about whether the Vatican, by removing him from Dominican jurisdiction, was protecting him and placing its own investigations ahead of that of authorities in the Caribbean nation.
Raised questions?
Not for me!

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Death of a Rich Canadian

Every evening at seven or eight, most of the women (and some of the men) on the island plant themselves in front of a television and gorge themselves on several hours of steamy romance, diabolical intrigues, crimes of passion combined with greed, incest, infidelity, and virtually every other crime or vice that you can imagine. They’re watching las novelas, technically las telenovelas, or the soaps.
There are, however, occasions when life imitates art, and one of them is unfolding today on the island. Because yesterday, Áurea Vázquez Rijos was arrested in Madrid when arriving at the airport from Italy, where she had been living.
Why was she arrested?
Well, the FBI is curious to know what really happened sometime on the night of 22 September 2005, when Vázquez and her husband, Adam Joel Anhang Uster, were brutally attacked. OK—Anhang was murdered, she sustained a head injury that required surgery, and was hospitalized. And the murder was not a particularly well thought out affair: it took place in the old city slightly after midnight, and was witnessed by several people.
Murders in Puerto Rico usually take place for only a couple of reason: drugs and passion. But this case was interesting because it featured that very well worn but still very powerful motivator…money.
Lot’s of it.
Anhang was Canadian, 32, an entrepreneur who had been CFO for Dr. Ho Casino (an on-line gaming operation) and the CEO of CWC Gaming, as well as being a part owner of a luxury hotel on Vieques, a small island off the coast of Puerto Rico. Apparently, he was well liked, very intelligent, and, as one business partner said, “frail and nerdy.” Not, in short, a difficult man to kill.
The couple met in 2002, began dating, going out to the movies, and going to parties. He praised her, she teased him by saying that he would never take her seriously: she was Latina, and so off limits. Well, he called her bluff, and they were soon living together. In 2004, the parents and little sister of Anhang came to Puerto Rico, and stayed with the couple. Here’s what Vazquez says about the visit:
Ellos no aceptaban que yo era latina y que no era judía ortodoxa. Lo más que odiaba el papá era que yo era latina (se ríe al decirlo). Lo odiaba. Pero nunca tuvimos problemas mayores con su familia. Él tenía problemas con su papá normalmente, como todo hijo con su padre. Pero nunca hubo guerra. Yo no podía ir a tantas cosas porque no era judía. Pero ya había conocido primos, algunos tíos, fui a Canadá tres veces con él. Conocí sus amistades.
Loose translation:
They didn’t accept me because I was Latina and not orthodox Jew. The father hated me the most because I was Latina (laughs while saying it). He hated it. But I never had major problems with his family. Adam had problems with his father—normal things like any son with his father. But there was never a war. I couldn’t go to so many things because I wasn’t Jewish. But I had met his cousins, some uncles, I went to Canada three times with him. I met his friends.
The relationship went sour—according to Vázquez, Anhang was under the sway of his business  partner, Roberto Cacho, who hated her because of previous business dealings that had gone west. In the days after the murder, rumors whirled that Vázquez, who had bought a bar in the old city, was having an affair. At any rate, the couple sought marriage counseling, which proved fruitless. Anhang filed for divorce.
 En caso de un divorcio, ella recibiría anualmente entre 126,000 dólares y $180,000 durante dos años, o hasta que volviera a casarse. Si Anghan moría antes del divorcio, la viuda recibiría 23.1 millones de dólares.
Well, the economic incentive is pretty clear—a max of $180,000 for two years after a divorce, or $23.1 million bucks if Anhang died before the divorce. All this from the prenuptial agreement they signed.
In a crime like this, you’d expect some action—money may not talk, but it can whisper very effectively. And Anhang’s father came to the island, to rattle cages and get some justice done. Significantly, nothing happened. Vázquez remained in the hospital for a month, during which she received—according to her—one visit only from the police. That occurred two days after her surgery, when she was sedated with morphine.
If this case is anything, it’s a magnificent demonstration of the colossal ineptitude of our police force. Anhang’s father came right out and said it—the couple was going through a bitter divorce, Adam had no enemies, Vázquez had to have something to do with the murder of her husband. Vázquez, in turn, alleged that she had been the victim of physical abuse at the hands of her husband.
Predictably, the fight about money began. Anhang had a life insurance policy for ten million. Vázquez tried to collect—rumor is that she never did, because Anhang’s father came down and spent a couple of years fighting to make sure she didn’t get her hands on the dough. Also, of course, pressing for justice to be done.
Which it was. Or rather, an appearance of justice occurred in October of 2007, when our local police decided to run down to the seaside slum that lies outside the old city’s walls, La Perla, and arrest one of the boys.
OK—so there was no physical evidence against him. Worse, an eyewitness testified that the man, Jonathan Román, was definitely NOT the guy who had murdered Anhang. But if a grieving and very rich Canadian man needed a trial and conviction—the thinking may have gone—well, not a problem! So the jury declared him guilty, and the judge sentenced him to 105 years in prison.
“Of course he’s being framed,” said Mr. Fernández, about to enjoy his postprandial cigar. “Everybody knows that. The guy probably made a deal, or the street was too hot for him, or they’ll wait until the Canadian is off the island and then he’ll ‘escape.’’
He went on to propose other possibilities, logical and or possible only in the Caribbean.
Then something happened, perhaps related to the nonpayment of the three million dollars that allegedly Vázquez was to pay the real hit man, Alex Pabón Colón, who is known on the streets as Alex el Loco. Letters surfaced in which it was clear that el Loco had conspired with Vázquez and her sister to relieve Anhang of the tedious chore of living. El Loco wanted his money—well, what professional wouldn’t—and also his saxophone, which was at the bar Vázquez owned. He made several not very original threats, and dismissed as unlikely her pleas that she was broke; she had sold her business, after all.
When confronted, el Loco confessed, and that meant that the ostensible killer, who had spent two-and-a-half years in jail, could be set free. Which he was, with everybody declaring that they had never, never believed that he was guilty, and much patting on the back! Justice had been done! The truth—as God ordained it—had come out! The system worked, and the public trust had been restored! (Word on the street, by the way, is that he got half a million not to sue....)
Curiously, this interpretation, which captivated and conquered the warm Latin imagination, was unconvincing to colder temperaments to the north. Anhang pere said, “won’t you please the hell get involved,” or words to that effect, to the FBI. So the FBI came down and came very soon to the conclusion—as had 3.7 million people of the rest of the island—that Aurora Vázquez, in conspiracy with several others (her sister, et al), had caused el Loco to kill Anhang.
Well, things were looking rather hot for Vázquez, when she decided or discovered that she had a passion for art. (Confession—this is the way I remember it; I can’t be sure that’s what it was). And where do you go to satisfy a taste for art? What country is utterly saturated with art?
Italy.
Which has—good Roman Catholics that they are—an extradition policy that states that no person who might face the death penalty can be extradited. And Vázquez, of course….
So Vázquez had been cooling her heels for five years, having twins by her new Italian lover, working at a travel agency, and dealing occasionally with whatever pesky press bothered her with events long gone.
Then she got careless. She used her American passport to fly to Spain last weekend. And that tipped off the FBI and Interpol, who contacted Spanish authorities. And Spain, which may be just as Catholic, tends to be a bit more bloodthirsty than those merry Italians.
Extradition will take time, but it will take place.
Readers, stay tuned!