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Authors: John Dinges
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transported to Argentina, when in fact the reverse was true.
As important as the facts were the legal justifications. Promising to expand on the presentation later, Garzón stated that the facts presented constituted crimes of genocide and terrorism under the Spanish law designated as article 23.4, which established “Spanish jurisdiction as competent . . .” He therefore proceeded to charge Pinochet for the crimes of genocide and terrorism and to issue a warrant for his arrest and extradition.
Garzón printed out the order and gave a copy to the only staff member still in the office with instructions to fax it immediately to Interpol Madrid, which would transmit it to Interpol London.
Just before 11 P.M. , Sergeant David Jones of Scotland Yard arrived at the London Clinic with a detective, a uniformed policeman, and an interpreter. In accordance with British custom, none of the policemen was armed. On the eighth floor, where Pinochet’s private room was located, they confronted a Chilean army captain who was in charge of Pinochet’s guards.
“You have to leave at once,” Jones said.
“I cannot leave my general,” the captain responded in Spanish. “I’m a Chilean military officer, and I only take orders from my superiors.”
“You can either leave nicely, or you can leave by force,” Jones said through the interpreter. One of the Chilean guards reached in his pocket. There was a moment of wide-eyed tension, which was diffused when it became clear the guard was pulling out nothing more threatening than a cell phone. The guards then mildly allowed themselves to be led outside the building.
A nurse entered Pinochet’s room to wake him and help him sit up in bed. The Scotland Yard officers waited a respectful quarter hour, then entered the room. Pinochet was alert and visibly angry. “Listen to what the sergeant is going to say,” the interpreter said. She translated the order of arrest “for the murder of Spanish citizens in Chile, within the jurisdiction of the government of Spain.”
Sergeant Jones read Pinochet his rights to counsel and to remain silent, but Pinochet was sputtering with rage. “I’m a head of state, I’m a diplomat, I’m not a criminal or a terrorist,” he said, in apparently genuine protest and surprise. Then came a flash of comprehension:
“I know who is behind this,” he growled to the interpreter, “that communist Garcés.”
The arrest was the opening act of a legal drama that would last for sixteen months, with advances and retreats on both sides. The British Court granted extradition in principle, then in March 2000 declared Pinochet to be of diminished mental and physical capacity. He was released to return to Chile. It was a technicality that many considered a thinly veiled deal worked out with the Chilean government. Nevertheless, through it all the legal principal of universal jurisdiction for crimes against humanity survived intact. Pinochet’s arrest was a revolutionary advance in international law not because it created new law; it didn’t. It was revolutionary because it was the first time the principles developed by the victors in World War II were used to prosecute an ally rather than an enemy of the countries bringing the charges. It was the case, arguably, that brought down the curtain on the Cold War, ending its role as spoiler in international human rights law.
On a world stage, the proceedings on Pinochet’s extradition were a total vindication of the Nuremberg principles. As military commander, Pinochetwas being held accountable for crimes against humanity committed by those under his command. He was denied the traditional shelter that heads of state and former heads of state had enjoyed from prosecution by other states. And Spain’s right to put Pinochet on trial was reaffirmed under the Nuremberg principle that his crimes—torture and terrorism—offended all humanity and therefore were subject to prosecution by any state anywhere.
The case
As important as the facts were the legal justifications. Promising to expand on the presentation later, Garzón stated that the facts presented constituted crimes of genocide and terrorism under the Spanish law designated as article 23.4, which established “Spanish jurisdiction as competent . . .” He therefore proceeded to charge Pinochet for the crimes of genocide and terrorism and to issue a warrant for his arrest and extradition.
Garzón printed out the order and gave a copy to the only staff member still in the office with instructions to fax it immediately to Interpol Madrid, which would transmit it to Interpol London.
Just before 11 P.M. , Sergeant David Jones of Scotland Yard arrived at the London Clinic with a detective, a uniformed policeman, and an interpreter. In accordance with British custom, none of the policemen was armed. On the eighth floor, where Pinochet’s private room was located, they confronted a Chilean army captain who was in charge of Pinochet’s guards.
“You have to leave at once,” Jones said.
“I cannot leave my general,” the captain responded in Spanish. “I’m a Chilean military officer, and I only take orders from my superiors.”
“You can either leave nicely, or you can leave by force,” Jones said through the interpreter. One of the Chilean guards reached in his pocket. There was a moment of wide-eyed tension, which was diffused when it became clear the guard was pulling out nothing more threatening than a cell phone. The guards then mildly allowed themselves to be led outside the building.
A nurse entered Pinochet’s room to wake him and help him sit up in bed. The Scotland Yard officers waited a respectful quarter hour, then entered the room. Pinochet was alert and visibly angry. “Listen to what the sergeant is going to say,” the interpreter said. She translated the order of arrest “for the murder of Spanish citizens in Chile, within the jurisdiction of the government of Spain.”
Sergeant Jones read Pinochet his rights to counsel and to remain silent, but Pinochet was sputtering with rage. “I’m a head of state, I’m a diplomat, I’m not a criminal or a terrorist,” he said, in apparently genuine protest and surprise. Then came a flash of comprehension:
“I know who is behind this,” he growled to the interpreter, “that communist Garcés.”
The arrest was the opening act of a legal drama that would last for sixteen months, with advances and retreats on both sides. The British Court granted extradition in principle, then in March 2000 declared Pinochet to be of diminished mental and physical capacity. He was released to return to Chile. It was a technicality that many considered a thinly veiled deal worked out with the Chilean government. Nevertheless, through it all the legal principal of universal jurisdiction for crimes against humanity survived intact. Pinochet’s arrest was a revolutionary advance in international law not because it created new law; it didn’t. It was revolutionary because it was the first time the principles developed by the victors in World War II were used to prosecute an ally rather than an enemy of the countries bringing the charges. It was the case, arguably, that brought down the curtain on the Cold War, ending its role as spoiler in international human rights law.
On a world stage, the proceedings on Pinochet’s extradition were a total vindication of the Nuremberg principles. As military commander, Pinochetwas being held accountable for crimes against humanity committed by those under his command. He was denied the traditional shelter that heads of state and former heads of state had enjoyed from prosecution by other states. And Spain’s right to put Pinochet on trial was reaffirmed under the Nuremberg principle that his crimes—torture and terrorism—offended all humanity and therefore were subject to prosecution by any state anywhere.
The case
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