Fugitive From U.S.
Justice Leads Panama’s
Assembly
By MARC LACEY, The New
York Times
PANAMA — The hand that
Pedro Miguel González
Pinzón extends in
greeting — the one that
wields the gavel during
proceedings of the
National Assembly, the
one that waves to rural
constituents and signs
legislative documents —
may have blood on it.
He insists otherwise. He
says he was not the one
who opened fire on two
American soldiers,
killing one and severely
wounding another, on the
eve of the first
President Bush’s visit
to Panama in June 1992
after the 1989 invasion
by the United States. In
his favor, Mr. González
has the not-guilty
verdict a Panamanian
jury reached in 1997.
But he remains in the
cross hairs of American
law enforcement
officials, who would
cuff his hand rather
than shake it. A United
States grand jury
indicted Mr. González on
murder and other charges
shortly after the
killing. As for the
Panamanian jury’s
verdict, those still
pursuing Mr. González
contend that the trial
was deeply flawed.
The world is full of
fugitives. But Mr.
González is different.
His face appears both on
wanted posters and
campaign fliers. His
whereabouts are widely
known: the luxurious,
wood-paneled offices of
the president at the
Legislative Palace.
In September, after two
successful campaigns for
legislator, Mr. González
raised his profile even
higher by winning the
National Assembly’s top
job. His colleagues
elected him by a wide
margin but not without
creating political
turmoil that extends
from Panama City to
Washington.
Before the vote, on
Sept. 1, the American
Embassy quietly made
clear its opposition to
Mr. González’s elevation
to president of the
assembly. In private
meetings, American
officials pointed out
that the free trade
agreement between the
United States and Panama
pending in Washington
might be imperiled.
Since then, crucial
members of the United
States House and Senate
have refused to support
the pact because of Mr.
González.
His supporters,
particularly those in
the populist,
anti-American wing of
the governing
Revolutionary Democratic
Party, have turned the
affair into a debate
over Washington’s
interference in
Panamanian affairs,
which indeed has a long
history.
In an interview in
November, Mr. González,
42, said the lingering
indictment and the
intense opposition by
American officials to
his new job had created
a political crisis here.
“The pressure has been
great,” he said. “It’s
been a very difficult
time.”
He mentioned other
difficult times as well:
the moment he learned he
was a suspect; the long
spell he spent in hiding
— he says in Panama, but
others say in the
Dominican Republic or
Cuba; the years he was
detained while awaiting
trial, albeit in a
rather luxurious holding
center by Panamanian
prison standards.
Then came the not-guilty
verdict for Mr. González
and two people accused
of being accomplices.
“I’m a free man,” was
how he described his
feelings at the time.
But he has not really
been free. The American
indictment that still
hangs over him has
restricted his movements
outside the country
considerably.
As for why he ran and
hid for more than two
years, he said the
reason was fear, not
guilt.
“I didn’t want to be
grabbed and put on the
next plane to the United
States,” he said, adding
that he still took
considerable precautions
to make sure that would
not happen. His ample
security team is on the
lookout not just for
attackers, but for
bounty hunters.
Mr. González portrays
his personal legal
jeopardy as a matter of
national pride, an
argument that has
divided the country. In
a recent poll, most of
the Panamanians surveyed
said he should step down
for the good of the
country. But his backers
say that would amount to
Washington’s dictating
Panamanian affairs.
“We are owners of our
destiny,” he said. “It
is a decision that
should be up to us.”
But Guillermo Endara,
who was the
American-backed
president when the crime
was committed, views Mr.
González’s legal
problems as his own.
“In my opinion, Pedro
Miguel is guilty of what
he is charged with in
the U.S.,” said Mr.
Endara, who opposes the
free trade pact and, as
a result, is not overly
concerned about the
effect the controversy
has on it.
In a sense, Mr. González
remains on trial. During
a recent discussion of
his case on the popular
television program “Open
Debate,” Mr. González’s
lawyer, Carlos E.
Carrillo, sparred with
Jaime O. Abad, who led
Panama’s detective force
at the time of the
shooting.
Mr. Abad laid out the
evidence against Mr.
González, including the
facts that the car
involved in the shooting
was found on the
González family ranch
and that various guns
were discovered buried
at Mr. González’s
sister’s workplace.
Mr. Carrillo offered a
fierce rebuttal.
Ballistic tests, for
instance, were
inconclusive, he said.
The F.B.I. identified an
AK-47 that Mr.
González’s sister buried
as the weapon in the
shooting. But Scotland
Yard and tests by the
police in Panama did not
match the gun to bullets
recovered from the
scene, an isolated
country road outside the
capital, where Sgt. Zak
A. Hernández Laporte,
the American soldier,
was killed on June 10,
1992.
“Everything you can
think of to detract from
a fair trial was done,”
said William J. Hughes,
the American ambassador
at the time of the
trial. “It was a
manipulated trial.”
Mr. Hughes cites the
circumstances of Mr.
González’s surrender as
the first sign that this
would be no typical
trial. In an enormous
political spectacle, Mr.
González’s father,
Gerardo González, the
president of the
governing party at the
time, as well as
legislative leader,
arranged for his son to
turn himself in to the
president, the attorney
general and the police
chief, among other
government officials.
In an interview, Mr.
Carrillo, the defense
lawyer, jabbed his
Montblanc pen firmly
into a legal pad when
asked about the fairness
of the trial. He said
that Americans had been
deeply involved in the
prosecution of the case
from beginning to end.
Only when the verdict
was issued, he said, did
they complain.
Ernesto Pérez Balladares,
who was president at the
time of the trial, had
this response then to
American criticism of
the verdict: “Very
frankly, I didn’t like
the result of the O. J.
Simpson trial either.”
Although Mr. González
insists that he had
nothing to do with the
attack on the American
soldiers, he does
acknowledge that he was
part of the
antioccupation protests
at the time.
President Bush visited
on June 11, and
protesters were doing
everything they could to
make his arrival a
fiasco. Days before
Sergeant Hernández was
killed, someone sprayed
bullets from an AK-47 at
the entrance to Albrook
Air Base. When Mr. Bush
did arrive, riot
policemen fired tear gas
at demonstrators. Some
of the gas reached the
president. Mr. González
was among those in the
crowd.
“Zak Hernández was a
soldier of the invading
army,” Mr. González
said. “Who killed him?
It could have been any
Panamanian angry about
the visit of President
Bush.” |
