Yankees Come Home

The largest transfer of convicts begins--but all is not forgiven

In 1969, President Richard Nixon declared an international "war on drugs," then pressed the Mexican government into joining the battle by cracking down on illegal narcotics traffic across the border. Mexico obliged with a vengeance, throwing into jail hundreds of American violators; most of them were "mules," who had been smuggling large amounts of cocaine from South America or marijuana from Mexico. A 13-year sentence--with no chance of parole--was not uncommon for a first offender. "Operation Intercept," as the border crackdown was dubbed, quickly turned into a publicity disaster for Mexico. U.S. prisoners staged hunger strikes to protest medieval conditions in Mexican jails. Relatives of the 577 Americans in Mexican prisons organized "Boycott Mexico" campaigns.

Fed up with bad publicity and worried about the potential loss of tourist dollars, the Mexican government last year proposed a prisoner exchange. The U.S. Senate ratified a new treaty between the two countries, which President Jimmy Carter signed into law on Oct. 31. Among the treaty's terms: Americans now imprisoned in Mexico would be eligible for transfer to U.S. jails, provided they had more than six months to serve on their sentences, had not been convicted of a political offense or breaking immigration laws and, a key condition, would not contest their Mexican convictions in U.S. courts. Parallel provisions would hold for the 1,200 Mexicans locked up in the U.S.

Last week what U.S. Consul General Vernon McAninch billed as the largest transfer of prison inmates in history began. Eight American public defenders had spent three days in Mexico advising the 235 eligible inmates of their rights once they returned to U.S. soil. By week's end two chartered flights had touched down in San Diego, delivering the first 127 American prisoners--including 27 women, one with an 18-month-old baby girl. The rest are expected to arrive in transfers scheduled for later this month and early next year.

On Friday afternoon, a red, white and blue Texas International Airlines DC-9 took off from Mexico City carrying the first group of 61 transfers. Three hours later, when the pilot announced the jet was passing over the border, the cabin erupted with cheering and sobbing. At San Diego's Lindbergh Field, scores of jubilant and tearful relatives, many waving "Welcome Home" signs, shouted prisoners' names as the transfers were whisked aboard a bus. Said Robin Worthington, 31, of San Francisco at a brief press conference: "It was a long battle, but we're home."

All are likely to be haunted by what they left behind. California Congressman Fortney Stark, a prime mover behind Congress's efforts to aid Americans imprisoned in Mexico, has a file of more than 200 horror stories from inmates. One woman arrested on a drug charge claims she was informed that if she refused to confess, she would be tossed into a river and ground up by a nearby power plant. Another charged that officials had ripped off one of her earrings--and her ear lobe. Male inmates reported being tortured with cattle prods while still dripping from a shower. According to Stark, some prisoners told of extortion demands of up to $40,000 by Mexican lawyers promising to get them released. Before he was transferred from Mexico City's Santa Marta prison, Frank Machado, 29, a Californian who has served five years for smuggling cocaine, said, "I got my nose broken and my eyes split open the first week. That was the cons' way of letting me know I had to pay protection."

Even some prison authorities concede life in their jails has been nasty, brutish and sometimes short. Says Juan Antonio Antolin, 31, who became director of Santa Marta seven months ago: "This was a pesthole beyond belief. It was run by drug traffickers, not the guards." Antolin claims a Mexican drug peddler offered him $10,000 a week to allow heroin to be smuggled into Santa Marta; when he refused, an attempt was made to kill him.

But not all Americans are eager to be sprung from Mexican jails. Twenty percent of those eligible for transfer have chosen not to serve out their time in U.S. prisons. Reason: in spite of the corruption, Mexican prisons are less regimented than penitentiaries north of the border. Inmates are allowed to wear their own clothes, prepare their own food and enjoy conjugal visits from wives or girlfriends.

The Yankees most anxious to go home are those with a chance of parole. Since their sentences now come under U.S. law, which allows for parole and mandatory release, about 60 of the transfers are expected to be released soon. Local parole boards are likely to review the cases and release others who have already spent years in Mexico. Still other prisoners are planning to seek their release on writs of habeas corpus, contending that Mexican courts do not have the authority to imprison anyone in the U.S. Some are even expected to appeal on grounds that the U.S.-Mexican treaty forced them to waive their constitutional rights of due process when they pledged not to contest their convictions in U.S. courts. One big problem: if such legal challenges are sustained, there will probably be no more prisoner transfers.

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