--- Begin Message ---
http://www.progressive.org/0901/amc1201.html
You're in the Hole A CRACKDOWN ON DISSIDENT PRISONERS
by Anne-Marie Cusac
It was September 19, 2001. Elizabeth McAlister had not heard from
her husband, Philip Berrigan, in more than a week. Such silence on
Berrigan's part was "most unusual," she says. Convinced that
something was wrong, she telephoned the Federal Correctional
Institution in Elkton, Ohio, where the seventy-seven-year-old peace
activist is serving a sentence of a year and a day for hammering
on a military aircraft while on probation for a similar action in
another state.
"It took ten phone calls to the prison to get them to admit to me
that he was in segregation," she says. McAlister also learned that
Berrigan was being denied all phone calls and visits, even from
family members. "I was not told why or for how long."
So McAlister telephoned the office of her Senator, Maryland Democrat
Barbara Mikulski. Mikulski's office called the prison and, according
to McAlister, was told "that Phil was put in segregation on September
11, 2001, as a direct consequence of the attacks on the World Trade
Center and the Pentagon, [and] that this was done 'for his protection.'
"
But that explanation did not ring true. "If Philip is in segregation
'for his protection,' why the punitive denial of visits from his
family?"
McAlister wrote to Mikulski.
On September 20, Mikulski wrote her own letter--to Kathleen Hawk
Sawyer, Director of the Federal Bureau of Prisons. "I would appreciate
being advised of Mr. Berrigan's status and an explanation as to
the reasoning for that status," the Senator said.
The reason Mikulski received differed markedly from the information
her own office had obtained several days earlier. The October 1
letter, from Michael B. Cooksey, Assistant Director of the Federal
Bureau of Prisons, said that Berrigan had been placed in administrative
detention "for security reasons, pending a review of his case." It
added, "The Warden may occasionally restrict certain privileges
afforded inmates, such as visiting and telephone calls, to ensure
the orderly running of the institution and to protect the public."
The letter also in-formed Mikulski that Berrigan's "case has been
reviewed, and he was released to general population on September
21, 2001.
Additionally, his visiting and telephone restrictions have been
lifted."
In a letter to The Progressive dated October 25, Berrigan describes
his experience. "On September 11, I watched appalled as the second
tower of the WTC came down. The guards called me out, took me to
the lieutenant's office, shackled and handcuffed me, and took me
to solitary. I inquired several times as to why. One guard grunted,
'Security!' During twelve days in segregation, no further daylight
was provided. One lieutenant came to announce, 'No phone, no
visitors!' And no stamps. I was locked down ten days before mailing
out letters. The result? Limbo-incommunicado."
It was "perhaps Ashcroft's idea. Lock up all the naysayers," he
says.
Berrigan's hunch about Attorney General John Ashcroft may have been
right.
On October 31, the Department of Justice published new rules,
"effective upon publication," that "impose special administrative
measures with respect to specified inmates." The document, entitled
"National Security: Prevention of Acts of Violence and Terrorism,"
was signed by Attorney General John Ashcroft on October 26 and
published in the Federal Register.
Under the new rules, the Department of Justice, "based on information
from the head of a federal law enforcement or intelligence agency,"
will select certain prisoners for "special administrative measures."
These "may include housing the inmate in administrative detention"
(another term for isolation) and denying that inmate "correspondence,
visiting, interviews with representatives of the news media, and
use of the telephone, as is reasonably necessary to prevent the
disclosure of classified information."
Prior to these new rules, the amount of time an inmate could be
held under such conditions was limited to 120 days, although the
Department of Justice had the authority to renew the stay in
isolation. The new regulations authorize the Bureau of Prisons to
hold an inmate incommunicado for a "period of time designated by
the Director [of the Bureau of Prisons], up to one year." In
addition, "The rule also allows for the Director to extend the
period for the special administrative measures for additional
one-year periods, based on subsequent certifications from the head
of an intelligence agency."
The Attorney General's rationale for these actions? "Where the head
of an intelligence agency has certified to the Attorney General
that there is a danger that the inmate will disclose classified
information posing a threat to the national security, there is no
logical reason to suppose that the threat to the national security
will dissipate after 120 days," explains the document.
But the segregation measures are not the end of it.
In a provision that National Lawyers Guild attorney Scott Fleming
calls "frightening and entirely new," the new rules direct the
Bureau of Prisons to eavesdrop on conversations that such prisoners
have with their attorneys.
"In any case where the Attorney General specifically so orders,
based on information from the head of a federal law enforcement or
intelligence agency that reasonable suspicion exists to believe
that a particular inmate may use communications with attorneys or
their agents to further or facilitate acts of terrorism, the
Director, Bureau of Prisons, shall . . .
provide appropriate procedures for the monitoring or review of
communications between that inmate and attorneys or attorneys'
agents who are traditionally covered by the attorney-client
privilege," the rules state.
Under these rules, not only is the prisoner a threat "but the
attorney as well," says Fleming, who has worked on the cases of
several prisoners with political backgrounds. The rules, he says,
characterize the attorney "as disseminating information for a
prisoner who's been deemed a national security threat."
Until now, federal prisons have had a separate, untapped phone line
for attorneys. Attorney-client privilege "is usually held sacred,"
says Donna Wilmott, litigation coordinator for the San Francisco-based
Legal Services for Prisoners with Children. Phones aren't listened
to; mail is not read.
"It's a basic right because, if you are trying to develop a defense
strategy, you need to have confidential conversations with your
attorneys."
But now, says Wilmott, "They're basically saying there's a whole
category of people they don't have to honor attorney-client privilege
with."
Usually, such changes in government policy involve an extensive
public comment period. Not in this case. As the Department of
Justice explains this unusual maneuver, "The immediate implementation
of this interim rule without public comment is necessary to ensure
that the Department [of Justice] is able to respond to current
intelligence and law enforcement concerns relating to threats to
the national security or risks of terrorism or violent crimes that
may arise through the ability of particular inmates to communicate
with other persons."
Amnesty International is concerned about the new developments.
"Prompt and regular access to counsel for detainees is a fundamental
human right under international standards, even during emergency
situations," says Curt Goering, senior deputy executive director
of Amnesty International USA.
"These standards provide for the right 'to be visited by and to
consult and communicate, without delay and with full censorship
and in full confidentiality with his legal counsel.' "
These regulations may serve as a post-facto justification for prison
actions that occurred after September 11.
In the hours following the terrorist attacks on the World Trade
Center and the Pentagon, leftwing prisoners like Berrigan were
singled out from the general population and taken to Secure Housing
Units. Some were denied access to legal counsel.
"These are all people who were or are leftist political militants,
but hardly Islamic fundamentalists," says attorney Robert Boyle,
who is based in New York City. "These people have no connection
whatever to this."
The new regulations, says Boyle, are "the formalization of what
they've been doing for the past six weeks."
"The decision to segregate inmates without explanation or access
to counsel appears to be driven by certain policies which have not
been made publicly known," William Goodwin, legal director for the
New York-based Center for Constitutional Rights, wrote in an October
18 letter to Attorney General John Ashcroft. "Ultimately, these
policy directives flow from the Department of Justice through the
Federal Bureau of Prisons to penitentiaries throughout the U.S."
Goodwin estimates the number of leftwing prisoners who were segregated
at between ten and fifteen. Some of these prisoners say that others
were locked down, as well, including Arabs, militia members, and
abortion clinic attackers.
"Immediately after the events of September 11, there was a group
of people, who, in different institutions across the country, were
singled out," says Diana Block, funding coordinator for the Jericho
Movement, which represents prisoners with political backgrounds.
The Jericho Movement issued an open letter in response to the
detentions, calling them "another step toward criminalizing dissent
in the United States."
Since 1973, Sundiata Acoli has been serving a life sentence for
the murders of a police officer and a fellow Black Liberation Army
member in a shootout in which Acoli drove the getaway car. Shortly
after the September 11 attack, he found himself in the hole.
Soffiyah Elijah, a clinical instructor at Harvard Law School's
Criminal Justice Institute, is one of several lawyers who represent
Acoli. "None of us have had access to him," she says.
I talked to Elijah on October 25. The day before, she said, was
her first opportunity to speak with Acoli in nearly six weeks. She
said she made so many calls that she lost count. "I was constantly
on the phone to the lawyers of the B.O.P. [Bureau of Prisons],"
she said.
Elijah gave me a copy of a letter on U.S. Department of Justice/Bureau
of Prisons stationery. It is dated September 26 and is signed Jake
Mendez, Warden of the U.S. Penitentiary in Allenwood, Pennsylvania,
where Sundiata Acoli (whose former name, used on all Bureau of
Prison records, is Clark Squire) is incarcerated.
"Dear Ms. Elijah," says the letter, "I am in receipt of your letter
wherein you request Inmate Clark Squire be permitted a legal
telephone call. . . .
Inmate Squire is currently not authorized telephone privileges,
including legal telephone calls. This has been enacted for security
reasons. Moreover, my review indicates Inmate Squire does not have
legal action pending at this time. Accordingly, I am denying your
request to allow Inmate Squire a legal telephone call."
Elijah says that the order for Acoli's segregation did not come
from the individual prison, but from Washington.
"He was told by the warden a couple of weeks after he was thrown
in the hole that there was an order from the Justice Department
and the FBI to keep him in the hole," she says. "One lawyer from
the Bureau of Prisons told another lawyer who's been working with
us that the decision came from Ashcroft's office. I know I was told
that it came from higher up than the B.O.P. I had at least two
different lawyers from B.O.P. tell me that."
As this story was going to press, on November 2, Acoli remained in
segregation.
Marilyn Buck is serving eighty years for several crimes that include
assisting in the 1979 prison escape of Assata Shakur and a 1981
Brinks armored car robbery that resulted in the deaths of two police
officers. She was also convicted of the 1983 bombing of the U.S.
Capitol. Buck is housed at the Federal Correctional Institution in
Dublin, California.
Elijah is her attorney, as well, and she was also denied legal
access to Buck. "No calls, visits, or mail. They told me that
specifically," she says.
"Even in my pessimistic view of the B.O.P., they have sunk below
my expectations," she says. Elijah has never before been denied
access to a client. "Sometimes it may take a day or two, but being
flat-out told I couldn't talk to my client--never. I've never been
told that my legal mail wasn't going to be given to my client or
that I couldn't visit my client."
After her release from segregation, Buck said in a letter, "I had
never been held incommunicado." It was "a new nightmarish experience."
Jan Susler is an attorney for Puerto Rican independentistas. She
says two of her clients were held in segregation. Antonio Comacho
Negron, imprisoned at the Federal Correctional Institution in
Allenwood, Pennsylvania, was held in a Secure Housing Unit from
September 11 until October 2. Comacho Negron was sentenced in 1989
to fifteen years and $100,000 for conspiracy to rob a bank, then
re-arrested and returned to prison in 1998 for violating parole by
returning to the Puerto Rican independence movement. Comacho Negron
could not communicate with anyone outside the prison during his
isolation. "He didn't get any ingoing or outgoing mail. No phone
calls," says Susler. "He asked to receive a legal call and was told
he couldn't have that. He was on medication that they refused to
give him. He has a stomach ulcer. He says he lost fifteen pounds."
Susler says that she wrote the Bureau of Prisons about Comacho
Negron on October 2. As of October 30, she had yet to receive a
response.
Another of Susler's clients, Carlos Torres, the national leader of
the Puerto Rican nationalist group FALN, was convicted of seditious
conspiracy for an attempted robbery of an armored vehicle in
Evanston, Illinois, in 1980. He is currently incarcerated at the
Federal Correctional Institution in Oxford, Wisconsin. As compared
to others in the days after September 11, Torres's stint in the
Secure Housing Unit was relatively easy. Though segregated, says
Susler, "He was allowed regular visits from family, allowed mail,
would have been allowed legal visits, got his medication."
The prison employees at Oxford, says Susler, "told me that they
were totally puzzled by his placement in administrative detention,
that they had nothing to do with it," and that they were waiting
for orders from Washington.
Susler wrote the Federal Bureau of Prisons and received a letter,
dated October 1, from Cooksey. "This placement was for security
reasons, pending a review of his case, and should not be considered
'harassment' or 'punishment,' " wrote Cooksey. "In this case, the
Warden has determined Mr.
Torres should remain in administrative detention at this time."
The Bureau of Prisons denied my request to interview Torres "based
on safety and security concerns right now."
Raymond Levasseur is incarcerated at the U.S. Penitentiary in
Atlanta.
Levasseur and his co-defendant, Richard Williams, each received
forty-five-year sentences for bombing buildings, including courthouses
in the 1970s and 1980s. Attorney Jamila Levi says Levasseur was
held in solitary confinement from September 18 until October 23.
Levi says she received a letter from the prison advising her to
contact the Office of the U.S. Attorney General if she had questions.
But when she did call the Attorney General's office, she was unable
to get any information regarding Levasseur, says Levi.
Williams has been imprisoned for seventeen years and is currently
incarcerated at the U.S. Penitentiary in Lompoc, California. Boyle,
his attorney, says that Williams was not only segregated but denied
legal visits, legal calls, and legal mail. In an October 17 letter
to Sawyer of the Federal Bureau of Prisons, Boyle wrote, "I was
told that those restrictions were ordered by Washington and were
occasioned by the 'events of September 11.' "
It was not until September 24, claims Boyle, that he was told he
could have a phone call with his client, a conversation that took
place two days later.
In a letter dated November 1, Williams writes that on September
11, "A guard came to my cell and said follow him. He took me out
of the block and down to a locked corridor. Within half an hour,
there were ten of us in there. When we asked why we were locked
up, they said we were terrorists and we hate the government."
As of October 31, Williams had not been released from administrative
segregation, according to Boyle.
"The complete prohibition on contact with his attorneys, as existed
for some twelve days, was an egregious violation of Mr. Williams's
Fifth and Sixth Amendment rights," he wrote to Sawyer.
"Being held incommunicado even from your attorney--that, to me,
was unprecedented," says Boyle. "They feel that in this environment,
they have carte blanche to do whatever."
In denying the inmates contact with their lawyers, says Boyle, the
government is, in effect, labeling the lawyers themselves as under
suspicion. "I kind of felt that in saying that he couldn't write
to me and I couldn't write to him, they were accusing me of being
involved," he says.
"If there was a conspiracy, I was part of that conspiracy."
"In the aftermath of September 11, we can't address specific actions
we took to ensure the safety and security of our institutions,"
said Traci Billingsly, a spokesperson for the Federal Bureau of
Prisons. "All the institutions took appropriate actions."
What about denying inmates access to their lawyers? Billingsly
claimed that such things didn't happen. "All inmates are afforded
access to their lawyers while they are in Secure Housing Units,"
she said.
The Department of Justice was also less than forthcoming. A
spokesperson referred me back to the Federal Bureau of Prisons,
assuring me that Linda Smith, a spokesperson there, would answer
all my questions.
"Were they terrorists?" asked Smith. She told me all she could say
was that individual institutions may segregate inmates for several
reasons, including misbehavior, pending investigation, and before
transferral to another institution.
As for the lack of access to lawyers, "To the best of my knowledge,
that is untrue," she said.
The new regulations, in combination with the detentions, bode ill
for our democracy. "It's really a moment the people have to wake
up and put the government in check," says Susler.
Wilmott is concerned that the segregations in the federal prisons
may be a sign of the future. "To me, when the state does things
like this, it's a trial balloon to see how much of preventive
detention will be tolerated,"
she says. "What they do to prisoners they can visit on the general
public. I think it has repercussions for everyone who has a dissenting
voice."
McAlister put Berrigan's treatment in larger context. "It has all
the texture of reprisal and vindictiveness--a punishment for thinking
outside the consensus and acting against our nation's love affair
with weapons of mass destruction," she wrote to Mikulski. "If any
of the attitude I feel and fear is present, it is the absolute end
of all that we say we value as a nation."
_______________________________________________ In accordance with
Title 17 U.S.C. section 107, this material is distributed without
charge or profit to those who have expressed a prior interest in
receiving this type of information for non-profit research and
educational purposes only.
_______________________________________________ prisonact-list
mailing list [EMAIL PROTECTED]
http://prisonactivist.org/mailman/listinfo/prisonact-list
--- End Message ---
