snow, wind, and a glimmer of light...

note: This is my March 2007 newsletter
In mid-January, winter finally arrived here in Western New York, with ice, wind, snow, and breath-defying temperatures.
The ice made the bare tree branches glow with the prism of fractured colors on a sunny day. During that time, I returned to Columbus, Georgia, for trial for stepping through a hole in the Fort Benning fence.
I visited the Riverwalk along the Chattahoochee River for a few peaceful walks. The air was not frigid, as it was in Western New York, but it was cold.
I looked deep into the water, and saw that it flowed gently and seemingly endlessly. Ducks floated by on the surface of the water. I walked past patches of violas, those hardy plants that bloom brightly in temperatures that would kill other flowers. I bent down and photographed the plants.
It was during those quiet moments that I looked inward for the words that I would say in court to answer the question: why did I cross that fence for a third time? Why did I risk another six-month sentence in federal prison?
The ducks and violas had reminded me of the quiet joy of being alive. I was free to enjoy a peaceful walk along a river. Despite the cold and the bare trees, the experience was life-affirming. And affirming life is what led me to the Fort Benning fence. I was not there just to say no to torture and to assassination but to say yes to human rights and to life.
Originally, I chose to cross the Fort Benning fence as a means to express my horror that my language school classmate, Sister Dianna Ortiz, had been tortured by military who had been trained in their violent acts right here in the United States. I was horrified by what had happened to her. But she survived and is now the executive director of the Torture Abolition and Survivors Support Coalition International (TASSC International).
Many others who were tortured by U.S. trained military did not survive. Many of them disappeared without a trace. They had friends, too who can never have closure. I think of the mothers and the grandmothers (abuelas) of the disappeared who continue to stand with photographs of their loved ones in Plaza de Mayo in Argentina.
When I learned about the 1,000 Grandmothers group that Cathy Webster started for the Fort Benning protest, I thought about the ladies of the Plaza de Mayo. And so, I chose to cross again, to affirm life and to remember those who had died as a result of my government's policies. When I stepped through that hole in the Fort Benning fence, I carried with me a cross inscribed with a man's name. The Salvadoran man had been 105 years old when he was killed. I remember being shocked that someone who was old suffered such a violent death.
I was able to carry only one cross through that hole in the fence but, in my heart, I carried many others. I remembered the judicial anti-drug squad who had been massacred by the Farallones High Mountain Battalion of the Colombian Army's Third Brigade in May 2006. I remembered the eight members of the San Jose de Apartado Peace Community of Colombia who had been killed by members of the 17th brigade, led by SOA graduate Brigadier General Hector Jaime Rincon, in 2005.
I chose to make a stand for the human rights that had been denied to these individuals. I wanted to say that these folks' lives had meaning and that the world had not been made safer by their violent deaths. By crossing the fence, I used my body to say that I valued life and human rights more than my personal freedom. I talked about my motivations in court.
"I came to petition my government for a redress of grievances. I was welcomed by fences, barbed wire, no trespassing signs, and hordes of police. I was welcomed by the sight of no governmental official willing to listen to my concerns or to accept my petitions. I felt lost in a security state that I could not understand..."
I also read in Spanish and English part of Archbishop Oscar Romero's final homily before he was assassinated by an SOA-trained death squad. He talked directly to the soldiers, begging them to end the violence that was consuming his country. I chose to speak those words because I felt that Archbishop Romero's words came from the perspective of someone who had the strength to speak truth to power, even though he knew that he was placing his own life in danger.
"Hermanos, vienen de neustra gente estan matando a sus propios hermanos. cualquier orden a matar, ha de ser coforme a la ley de Dios, el caul dice, no maten!
Nadie tiene que obedecer ninguna orden que sea inmoral.
Es tiemo que obedezca a su conciencia y no las ordenes inmorales.
La Iglesia no pueda mantenerse en silenci antes dicha abominacion...
En el nobre de Dios, en el nombre del pueblo sufrido cuys gritos leegan cada dia mas fuerte al cielo, les pido, les ruego, les ordeno, para la represion!
"Brothers, you come from your own people. You are killing your own brothers. Any human order to kill must be subordinate to the law of God, which says, 'Thou shat not kill.' No soldier is obliged to obey an order contrary to the law of God. No one has to obey an immoral law. It is high time you obeyed your consciences rather than sinful orders. The church cannot remain silent before such an abomination... in the name of God, in the name of this suffering people whose cry rises to heaven more loudly each day, I implore you, I beg you, I order you: stop the repression."
After I finished, the prosecutor, Stuart Alcorn, asked Judge G. Mallon Faircloth to sentence me to six months in federal prison because this was "the third time that she's crossed in five years." Judge Faircloth agreed with the prosecution and he sentenced me to six months in prison.
At the end of my six month sentence, I will regain my freedom and will go home. I see it as a small sacrifice when I think of the friends and families of the disappeared, who may never know what happened to their loved ones and who have to live with that pain for the rest of their lives.
I will begin my six-month sentence on Wednesday, March 21, at the federal prison camp in Danbury, Connecticut.
Thank you for all of your support and for the work that you do to say yes to human rights and to life!

The Trial of the Century

At the end of January, it was time to return to Columbus, Georgia, for me and for fourteen of my co-defendants. One of my co-defendants, Margaret, never left Columbus. On November 19th, which we found out was her birthday, she made the decision to go to jail, instead of posting bond so that she could be released from custody pending her trial.
On Monday, January 29, the fifteen of us and our supporters lined up at the Howard Johnson's to march to court. We carried crosses bearing the name of people who had been killed by graduates of the School of the Americas. Virginia Ward, mom of our co-defendant Grayman Ward, chanted the names of the dead, and we responded "presente," just as we had on November 19.
It was a cold morning but the sky was bright and clear.
At the steps of the courthouse/post office, we held a press conference. Five of us shared brief statements about what brought us to the other side of the Fort Benning fences.
Then it was time to enter the court for our trials.
The trials lasted just one day. All of us had a chance to say what we felt that we needed to say about WHINSEC/SOA. Grayman chose to sing his commentary about the judge. Judge Faircloth then commented on the singing... but, well, newspapers and magazines probably won't be calling or mailing him offers to take on the job of music critic. He also tried on the role of stand-up comedian. When he told us that we would have to pay a $10 assessment fee, he commented, "I don't know what that's for. Maybe it's for the entertainment of being here today." OK, that was a little bit funny. The debate between the the prosecutor, the defense attorney, and the judge about sentences for a few of the defendants, who had expired ban and bar letters, was somewhat entertaining, too, but I think that we might have been overcharged with that $10 admission fee. I would suggest to Judge Faircloth that he isn't ready to quit his day job. I chose not to offer that recommendation in court, however... or my fee for the entertainment might have been increased to $20!!!
Popcorn, anyone???
Not all of the time in the court involved light entertainment, musical performances, and bad jokes, however. The court statements were serious and moving. Some of my co-defendants talked about personal experiences. Margaret Bryant-Ganer discussed the hardships of life in West Virginia, where mining companies have run amuck, and compared it to life in Latin America, where U.S.-trained military have run amuck. Tina Busch-Nema described an incident in Honduras, where she had been a missionary. She had come face to face with a death squad, quite accidentally. The death squads had guns and did not seem hesitant to use them. They did not use them that day. Tina talked about the fear that she experienced, both during the incident and after it. Val Fillenwarth talked about her grandson, Ben, who died in a car accident. She related the grief of a grandmother and the feelings of helplessness that her family experienced when Ben died. But, she said, that was an accident. In Latin America, U.S.-trained military kill people's children and grandchildren, and that is no accident.
My own court statement focused on the issues of freedom vs. security. I talked about losing my freedom to petition my government for a redress of grievances. Instead of speaking directly to governmental officials, in this case, the people who run the Western Hemisphere Institute of Security Cooperation, I was faced with barbed-wire-topped fences and police. When I tried to exercise my freedom of religion by placing a cross with the name of a 105-year-old Salvadoran man who had been killed on the grounds of Fort Benning, I was arrested. I concluded by reading a portion of the late Archbishop Oscar Romero's final homily in both Spanish and English.
Take a look at the SOA Watch website for information about the SOA 16, which includes biographical stuff, court statements, and sentences.
Margaret was released from jail following her trial. She related that her fellow inmates in the Muscogee County Jail told her that they enjoyed having her there with them but now it was time for her to go home. I was especially happy to see her in the courtroom for my trial.
I would like to express my thanks to my supporters, the attorneys, the SOA Watch staff, everyone who helped prepare us for the trial, for the food preparation crew, and to my co-defendants. In addition to the ones named above, I would like to mention Cathy Webster, Don Coleman, Phil Gates, Nathan Slater, Martina LeForce, Mike Vosburg-Casey, Melissa Helman, Julienne Oldfield, Whitney Ray, Josh Harris, and Sister Sheila Salmon. I am very grateful to all of my co-defendants for their witness.
The pictures and stories below are of trial preparation activities and are posted in no particular order. The red rose pictured above represents life. We all hope for a life in Colombia, Iraq, Afghanistan, and elsewhere that is free of war, violence, and repression.
For more pictures and stories about my Georgia trip, please take a look at my Alice's Grand Adventures blog by clicking onto the link on the left-hand side of this page.