Today, I received a letter from Rebecca that tells how her sentence was applied and the ramifications going forward. Read her letter below:
For the blog... "Rebecca Roth... Prisoner in Paradise"... an open letter from Rebecca Roth
In Mexico crimes are separated into two categories…Common and Federal. Common crimes include robbery, rape or murder. One is eligible for consideration of early release with a Common crime after 30% of the crime is served. For example, a murder sentence of 30 years with the 30% rule applied would be reduced to 9 years like this: 30 x .30 = 9.
Now a Federal crime such as drug trafficking or arms possession has a factor applied of 60%. So a sentence of 15 years could have a release date of 9 years or 15 x .60 = 9. There are also benefits for 1st time offenders, which according to the papers in my case have already been applied, thus “lenient” minimum sentences of 5 years (400 bis) and 4 yeas (Art 13). However due to the political climate and the rhetoric regarding organized crime Article 13 carries with a provision that there can be no benefits. In addition, the stacking of the sentences is an irregularity: first the 5 year charge…Operations of resources from illegal sources. With a 5 year minimum Federal sentence, this could be paid with bail. However, since it is stacked (paired) with the unpardonable crime one loses the benefit of paying 60% of the time on that charge also. Meanwhile, people charged with 2,3,4 crimes are paying their time simultaneously.
For example, a 4 year sentence and a 5 year sentence of different charges would be paid (without benefits) in 5 years maximum. So instead of falling into the normal guidelines of parole eligibility at 60% for Federal and 30% for Common, this crime falls outside of the guidelines. Added to that the stacking effect and this minimum sentence of 9 years becomes equivalent of a 15 year sentence (Federal) or a 30 year sentence (Common).
This analysis is based upon the charges and sentences only and is done without regard to the question of innocence or guilt. Now having done this analysis, I can also tell you that the SubDirector of the prison told me that the institution was going to write to Mexico City to find out what benefits could be granted in this case. The Judicial department here at the institution calculated a date two years from now in which I was told that I would be eligible for benefits to be released.
According to my attorney, these dates and promised correspondences are “feel good” lies that will not change the imposition of the 9 year sentence.
So based upon this information, the remaining options are Amparo, and the prisoner transfer program, both time consumers. The Amparo one year or maybe a little less.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Letters, Stories and Justice... Oh My!
It has been a while since I have posted anything. While waiting for Rebecca's Amparo (next stage in the appeals process) to be submitted, many of us have been writing letters to Senators, Congressmen and to the Consulate in Mexico. As usual, these letters have fallen on deaf ears and eyes and attitudes. The rhetoric and insensitivity are running rampant. Senators continue to reply to individual letters with copy and paste responses and new Consulate representatives replying with the usual canned lines, their heads in the clouds and hopes that if they simply make a statement that it will be true. When called upon to back up the claims made, no response is made. Maybe they think we'll just go away.
So, the point is that the same ol' same ol' continues in spite of our reaching out to those in a position to help.
In the dark ocean of indifference, there is a shining star, however. Margie Boule of The Oregonian, has been given the go ahead to do some front page articles that go beyond her column limitations. Margie has her nose deep in research and is conducting interviews right now, so we will see a much greater expose' coming soon!
Several of us have written to the Mexican President, as well. Those letters are being translated and will be presented to him in both the original English version and the translation, as well. Our hope is that he will see the need for his intervention and oversight as the Amparo is reviewed.
Today, I am proud to present a short story, written by Rebecca from her Mexican prison cell. In it, she gives us an idea of how our dreams are a part of our reality.
SHORT STORY by
Rebecca Roth
August 11, 2009
Two full-grown Bengal Tigers were at my front door. I felt safe from my vantage point, a small balcony on the second floor, because I had a gate of iron bars in front of the front door for security. I felt safe that is, until one of the tigers used his great paw as a can-opener and folded the iron door with little effort.
Now as I watched from my second story perch, I was terrified! I backed into the second floor bedroom, turned and immediately began to round up my two children and our pets, a cocker spaniel (Scooter I), a squirrel (where did he come from?!?), my beloved Obie Juan Kanobe, his wife Scooter II (who seemed more nervous than normal under the pending circumstances), and their tremendous accomplishment, the so-called freak-of-nature Don Juan, my family of 3 mini Rat Terriers. It was boundless chaotic fear as this menagerie and I tried to climb to safety.
Now I could hear that these two magnificent specimens of giant felines were inside my house. Why my house? I felt that they had come for me, to destroy me and my family. But Why? Why do they want to destroy me?
I thought with self-criticism, “Why don’t I have better, stronger defenses? I should have seen this coming.” But the crisis had arrived – literally at my door and I must deal with it NOW!
I could hear them down on the first floor breaking the breakable along with the unbreakable. I fabricated a courageous face and urged my children, toddlers clad only in diapers, up the stairs. My children seemed even more vulnerable due to their state of attire. I tried to blot out the image of them, cast in the role of just two mouths full for these voracious carnivores. Of course tigers don’t mind if you are fully dressed – naked, raw or well-done.
Then as I scrambled from one hiding place to another, evaluating first one, then another and find them wanting, my panic rose like magma surfacing in a dormant volcano. “Don’t cry!” I commanded myself sternly, yet hot tears sprung and stung my eyes disconnected from any emotion. Unruly and disobedient! This is not the time to feel!
I was snapped back to the impossible scenario, from the mental philosophies to the here and now, by the barking frenzy coming from my valiant Scooter. I realized this barking was coming from downstairs and that she was not with us. She fought bravely to protect us, but of course she was no match for these giant beasts. Although I didn’t witness her end with my eyes, her sacrifice will remain with me as vivid and real as her sweet motherly nature was.
“GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER.” I MENTALLY DEMANDED TO MYSELF. This won’t do. With everyone in front of me we climbed to the third floor, aided by time granted by the distraction Scooter I gave us with her death and subsequent fight over her remains.
I placed everyone (including that damned squirrel) upon a narrow ledge above my closet. One of the tigers began to climb the stairs. Probably lost the coin-toss for the cocker-spaniel meal. We had little time left and I was not convinced at all that the height of the narrow ledge we were on was sufficiently out of the range of those demonic claws of this devil to protect us…
The birds! He (or she) was now tearing up the second floor and we wouldn’t have long to wait for the answer. The squawking was now focusing its attention on them. They’re on their own I thought, unable to contemplate their fate or my role in it.
I looked at my children Aaron and Evan who were silently screaming, eyes wide and a thought came to me. The spiral stairway! That narrow – too narrow, to tightly wound annoying staircase to the roof terrace; our savior, our escape, our hope! I remembered the terrible time the dogs had getting used to the open treaded, treacherous looking, impossibly steep and twisting stairs of this often maligned staircase. I told the boys, “we have one chance, but we must get down from here, go out into the hall and climb the spiral stair case.” Evan holding the nameless squirrel close to his chest and sucking his thumb shook his head. I knew that what I said next had to change his mind. “Honey, we won’t make it out alive if we stay here, and I insist that we, all of us, get out alive and beat these – demons.” My gaze had purpose and this was said with more confidence and authority than I felt within my liquefied body. His shaking head turned into a silent nod.
I heard the bird cages on the 2nd floor being batted around and realized this was our opportunity to move.
“All right.” I said quietly, “Aaron you grab Obie Juan, Evan had his squirrel. “I’ll take Scooter and Don Juan. We must be very quiet.” I actually thought I saw Scooter nod. I lowered myself from the ledge and Aaron handed me the dogs. Lastly Evan and Aaron were helped down by me.” So far so good.” I mused. I paused to locate the two tigers with my ears. The one was still on the first floor and the second seemed to be growing frustrated with its game of cat and bird.
With pets in hand we opened my bedroom door (a squeak?) “That damned hinge. Too late! Get moving!” I shouted with my eyes. Maybe he/she/it hadn’t heard. Evan made it to the accursed/blessed stairway and with squirrel on chest began to climb. Next went Aaron with Obie Juan. I took up the rear with two wriggling mini dogs in my hands. I remember thinking Scooter isn’t barking – why she’s as silent as the tomb. Apparently the second floor tiger did hear the squeaky hinge or perhaps it simply smelled the scent of fear emanating from us, like scared prey. As I heard a growl and realized there was a giant tiger looking up at us from the base of the stairs. With a reverberating growl I was almost knocked off of the stairs, but shakily I stumbled up higher and shouted, “Go!” Evan had reached the top and was opening the metal door. Thank God it wasn’t locked, I though with relief! Then the tiger extended his paw and slammed it into the far side of the stairwell cage. Aaron let out a wail, but he held onto the catatonic Obie Juan and God bless him, he didn’t give up. He kept climbing and somehow so did I. We made it to the top, to the terrace, through the door and I shut it firmly behind me. The tiger now had thoroughly lost its temper and was pummeling the staircase with its enormous paws and roaring with anger. I heard the staircase come loose from its aging solder and fall upon the tiger. As near of a sound to a whimper came from the tiger and apparently after considering his options, he retreated back down the stairs to join his companion.
As we huddled together in stunned silence, traumatized and soaked in sweat, tears and blood, my parrot flew through the door to the roof terrace lit briefly on a make-shift perch, considering us, and then took off into the sky heading first west toward the sea, then east toward the mountains. I examined Aaron’s leg which had sustained a nasty wound from sharp talons that had breached the caracole stair, but we would all survive…
Yesterday, August 9, 2009, the President of the United States, Barack Obama, the President of Mexico Felipe Calderon, and the Prime Minister of Canada, Stephen Harper met in an attempt to project renewed solidarity in Guadalajara, the city nearest to where I’ve been held captive for over 3.5 years. As I listened to the press conference, the dream I had of the two tigers came to mind and I realized my two tigers are the governments of the United States and Mexico. Prime Minister Harper and the Canadian Government by extension are not and have not bee a threat to me or my family which explains why there weren’t 3 tigers. Canada seems the very face of neutrality while tiger 1, who stayed back and did nothing, is the US government, and tiger 2, the aggressor Mexico tries to destroy me. This dream represents for me my struggle for acquittal and freedom, as well as the damage that has been done to my home, business and family. I heard President Calderon inviting proof of Human Rights violations to be brought to his attention, while I sit in one of his overcrowded jails with people whose basic Mexican Human, Constitutional and Legal rights have been ignored and violated. Hopefully, Presidente Calderon, we will be bringing you an example of injustice soon.
I heard Barack Obama reacting to criticism he called hypocritical regarding his weak approach in helping the Honduran President return as that country’s President. He called it ironic that the same critics who attack U.S. political priorities for meddling in the affairs of sovereign nations are now criticizing him for not taking a stronger position with regards to Honduras. Mr. President, criticism such as this occurs when 1) the problem isn’t fully understood, or 2) when political priorities are mixed-up, or 3) lack of communication between the ones criticizing and the ones being criticized.
Whatever the source, this statement made by Barack Obama, sums up the origins of the inaction, impotence, defensiveness and overall lack of help offered by the US government, including the State, Department, Secretaries of State, Politicians from the President, Senators, Governors, Congressmen on down, in regards to my imprisonment.
It may also represent the apathy and disinterest by most members of the press, in my case, which if fired-up, would have forced the U.S. Government Officials to action, as has happened recently in several cases similar to mine.
Finally, the statement made by President Calderon regarding the Ministereos Publica, in which he declared that they – the MP – do not go after innocent people with a vengeance is simply not true.
The MP or district attorneys in Mexico are a reign of terror, who even threatens Judges. This cancer is comparable to Robespierre and the guillotine wielders of the French Revolution with their spread of fear and the destruction of the lives of most all who come in contact with them. Only they do not attack the rich bourgeois, they go after the poor, ignorant and defenseless masses. Why? They want to appear to be great crime-fighters, while their own peers infiltrated by the real members of Organized Crime for generations continue with their impunity, intricately woven into the social fabric of Mexico. How can President Calderon or any President defeat this kind of social disease? This is the question?
Rebecca Roth
August 11, 2009
Two full-grown Bengal Tigers were at my front door. I felt safe from my vantage point, a small balcony on the second floor, because I had a gate of iron bars in front of the front door for security. I felt safe that is, until one of the tigers used his great paw as a can-opener and folded the iron door with little effort.
Now as I watched from my second story perch, I was terrified! I backed into the second floor bedroom, turned and immediately began to round up my two children and our pets, a cocker spaniel (Scooter I), a squirrel (where did he come from?!?), my beloved Obie Juan Kanobe, his wife Scooter II (who seemed more nervous than normal under the pending circumstances), and their tremendous accomplishment, the so-called freak-of-nature Don Juan, my family of 3 mini Rat Terriers. It was boundless chaotic fear as this menagerie and I tried to climb to safety.
Now I could hear that these two magnificent specimens of giant felines were inside my house. Why my house? I felt that they had come for me, to destroy me and my family. But Why? Why do they want to destroy me?
I thought with self-criticism, “Why don’t I have better, stronger defenses? I should have seen this coming.” But the crisis had arrived – literally at my door and I must deal with it NOW!
I could hear them down on the first floor breaking the breakable along with the unbreakable. I fabricated a courageous face and urged my children, toddlers clad only in diapers, up the stairs. My children seemed even more vulnerable due to their state of attire. I tried to blot out the image of them, cast in the role of just two mouths full for these voracious carnivores. Of course tigers don’t mind if you are fully dressed – naked, raw or well-done.
Then as I scrambled from one hiding place to another, evaluating first one, then another and find them wanting, my panic rose like magma surfacing in a dormant volcano. “Don’t cry!” I commanded myself sternly, yet hot tears sprung and stung my eyes disconnected from any emotion. Unruly and disobedient! This is not the time to feel!
I was snapped back to the impossible scenario, from the mental philosophies to the here and now, by the barking frenzy coming from my valiant Scooter. I realized this barking was coming from downstairs and that she was not with us. She fought bravely to protect us, but of course she was no match for these giant beasts. Although I didn’t witness her end with my eyes, her sacrifice will remain with me as vivid and real as her sweet motherly nature was.
“GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER.” I MENTALLY DEMANDED TO MYSELF. This won’t do. With everyone in front of me we climbed to the third floor, aided by time granted by the distraction Scooter I gave us with her death and subsequent fight over her remains.
I placed everyone (including that damned squirrel) upon a narrow ledge above my closet. One of the tigers began to climb the stairs. Probably lost the coin-toss for the cocker-spaniel meal. We had little time left and I was not convinced at all that the height of the narrow ledge we were on was sufficiently out of the range of those demonic claws of this devil to protect us…
The birds! He (or she) was now tearing up the second floor and we wouldn’t have long to wait for the answer. The squawking was now focusing its attention on them. They’re on their own I thought, unable to contemplate their fate or my role in it.
I looked at my children Aaron and Evan who were silently screaming, eyes wide and a thought came to me. The spiral stairway! That narrow – too narrow, to tightly wound annoying staircase to the roof terrace; our savior, our escape, our hope! I remembered the terrible time the dogs had getting used to the open treaded, treacherous looking, impossibly steep and twisting stairs of this often maligned staircase. I told the boys, “we have one chance, but we must get down from here, go out into the hall and climb the spiral stair case.” Evan holding the nameless squirrel close to his chest and sucking his thumb shook his head. I knew that what I said next had to change his mind. “Honey, we won’t make it out alive if we stay here, and I insist that we, all of us, get out alive and beat these – demons.” My gaze had purpose and this was said with more confidence and authority than I felt within my liquefied body. His shaking head turned into a silent nod.
I heard the bird cages on the 2nd floor being batted around and realized this was our opportunity to move.
“All right.” I said quietly, “Aaron you grab Obie Juan, Evan had his squirrel. “I’ll take Scooter and Don Juan. We must be very quiet.” I actually thought I saw Scooter nod. I lowered myself from the ledge and Aaron handed me the dogs. Lastly Evan and Aaron were helped down by me.” So far so good.” I mused. I paused to locate the two tigers with my ears. The one was still on the first floor and the second seemed to be growing frustrated with its game of cat and bird.
With pets in hand we opened my bedroom door (a squeak?) “That damned hinge. Too late! Get moving!” I shouted with my eyes. Maybe he/she/it hadn’t heard. Evan made it to the accursed/blessed stairway and with squirrel on chest began to climb. Next went Aaron with Obie Juan. I took up the rear with two wriggling mini dogs in my hands. I remember thinking Scooter isn’t barking – why she’s as silent as the tomb. Apparently the second floor tiger did hear the squeaky hinge or perhaps it simply smelled the scent of fear emanating from us, like scared prey. As I heard a growl and realized there was a giant tiger looking up at us from the base of the stairs. With a reverberating growl I was almost knocked off of the stairs, but shakily I stumbled up higher and shouted, “Go!” Evan had reached the top and was opening the metal door. Thank God it wasn’t locked, I though with relief! Then the tiger extended his paw and slammed it into the far side of the stairwell cage. Aaron let out a wail, but he held onto the catatonic Obie Juan and God bless him, he didn’t give up. He kept climbing and somehow so did I. We made it to the top, to the terrace, through the door and I shut it firmly behind me. The tiger now had thoroughly lost its temper and was pummeling the staircase with its enormous paws and roaring with anger. I heard the staircase come loose from its aging solder and fall upon the tiger. As near of a sound to a whimper came from the tiger and apparently after considering his options, he retreated back down the stairs to join his companion.
As we huddled together in stunned silence, traumatized and soaked in sweat, tears and blood, my parrot flew through the door to the roof terrace lit briefly on a make-shift perch, considering us, and then took off into the sky heading first west toward the sea, then east toward the mountains. I examined Aaron’s leg which had sustained a nasty wound from sharp talons that had breached the caracole stair, but we would all survive…
Yesterday, August 9, 2009, the President of the United States, Barack Obama, the President of Mexico Felipe Calderon, and the Prime Minister of Canada, Stephen Harper met in an attempt to project renewed solidarity in Guadalajara, the city nearest to where I’ve been held captive for over 3.5 years. As I listened to the press conference, the dream I had of the two tigers came to mind and I realized my two tigers are the governments of the United States and Mexico. Prime Minister Harper and the Canadian Government by extension are not and have not bee a threat to me or my family which explains why there weren’t 3 tigers. Canada seems the very face of neutrality while tiger 1, who stayed back and did nothing, is the US government, and tiger 2, the aggressor Mexico tries to destroy me. This dream represents for me my struggle for acquittal and freedom, as well as the damage that has been done to my home, business and family. I heard President Calderon inviting proof of Human Rights violations to be brought to his attention, while I sit in one of his overcrowded jails with people whose basic Mexican Human, Constitutional and Legal rights have been ignored and violated. Hopefully, Presidente Calderon, we will be bringing you an example of injustice soon.
I heard Barack Obama reacting to criticism he called hypocritical regarding his weak approach in helping the Honduran President return as that country’s President. He called it ironic that the same critics who attack U.S. political priorities for meddling in the affairs of sovereign nations are now criticizing him for not taking a stronger position with regards to Honduras. Mr. President, criticism such as this occurs when 1) the problem isn’t fully understood, or 2) when political priorities are mixed-up, or 3) lack of communication between the ones criticizing and the ones being criticized.
Whatever the source, this statement made by Barack Obama, sums up the origins of the inaction, impotence, defensiveness and overall lack of help offered by the US government, including the State, Department, Secretaries of State, Politicians from the President, Senators, Governors, Congressmen on down, in regards to my imprisonment.
It may also represent the apathy and disinterest by most members of the press, in my case, which if fired-up, would have forced the U.S. Government Officials to action, as has happened recently in several cases similar to mine.
Finally, the statement made by President Calderon regarding the Ministereos Publica, in which he declared that they – the MP – do not go after innocent people with a vengeance is simply not true.
The MP or district attorneys in Mexico are a reign of terror, who even threatens Judges. This cancer is comparable to Robespierre and the guillotine wielders of the French Revolution with their spread of fear and the destruction of the lives of most all who come in contact with them. Only they do not attack the rich bourgeois, they go after the poor, ignorant and defenseless masses. Why? They want to appear to be great crime-fighters, while their own peers infiltrated by the real members of Organized Crime for generations continue with their impunity, intricately woven into the social fabric of Mexico. How can President Calderon or any President defeat this kind of social disease? This is the question?
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