By Jared Chausow
By Katie Toth
By Elizabeth Flock
By Albert Samaha
By Anna Merlan
By Jon Campbell
By Jon Campbell
By Albert Samaha
On Tuesday, a federal grand jury indicted suspected "dirty bomber" Jose Padilla, a U.S. citizen from Chicago who has been held as an enemy combatant since 2002. Padilla spent two of those years incommunicado.
By indicting Padilla to another ongoing case, the Bush administration avoids a potential showdown with the U.S. Supreme Court over how long it can hold suspects in its war on terror without charges.
NBC reported it this way:
In a surprise legal development, suspected "dirty bomber" Jose Padilla has been indicted on criminal charges in Miami and as a result will no longer be an enemy combatant in Pentagon custody, according to an indictment unsealed Tuesday.
Padilla was indicted on charges that he conspired to murder, kidnap and maim people overseas.
A federal grand jury in Miami added Padilla to a pre-existing indictment against four others. While the charges allege Padilla was part of a terrorism conspiracy, they do not include the governments earlier allegations that he planned to target the United States by using a radioactive dirty bomb and blowing up apartment buildings using natural gas.
Back in 2003, award-winning legal reporter Chisun Lee filed the following seminal article on the Padilla saga. It's worth remembering today.
A Lifetime in Limbo
Why the Dirty Bomber Case Threatens Everyone's Rights
By Chisun Lee
He disappeared down the rabbit hole.
A year ago this week Jose Padilla, nabbed while on a visit to Chicago, was taken into military custody and sealed off from the rest of the world. To date, the government continues to deny the Brooklyn native a right all Americans take for granted: to tell his side of the story.
The public was told back then that his banishment was their salvation. Attorney General John Ashcroft, the nation's top law enforcer, revealed in a dramatic announcement via satellite from Moscow, "We have disrupted an unfolding terrorist plot to attack the United States by exploding a radioactive dirty bomb." The day before, June 9, 2002, President George W. Bush had deemed Padilla so grave a threat to national security that he ordered him held incommunicado until the war on terrorism was over.
The administration says it needs absolute authority when so much seems to be at stake. This is typical of presidents in wartime. But in this war the number and origin of the enemy is unknowable, and decisive victory almost impossible to envision. Padilla could be looking at a lifetime in limbo, deprived of rights that Americans consider fundamental. On the anniversary of his spectacular detention, the battle to get Padilla any kind of hearing, or even access to a lawyer, continues. Meanwhile, his case goes largely unnoticed.
Yet a year of developments in other terrorism-related cases has produced more reasons than ever to question whether the chief executive must simply be trustedseemingly indefinitely, in this new era of warto know best. While Jose Padilla, a violent ex-con, may not inspire much empathy, his predicament matters to everyone. If he never gets his day in court, it will mean any American could be jailed for life, without the chance to defend himself, on the president's say-so.
The "illegal enemy combatant" is a despicable foe, one who ignores international rules of war and fights for an outlaw outfit, like Al Qaeda or the Taliban, rather than for a recognized nation. Unlike the two other U.S. citizens, John Walker Lindh and Yaser Hamdi, who have been put in this category, Padilla was not captured on a foreign battlefield fighting with rogue forces. He was arrested on May 8, 2002, unarmed and carrying a genuine ID, getting off a plane at Chicago's O'Hare Airport.
Nor was he immediately labeled an enemy combatant. Federal agents had tracked him for weeks based on tips from informants, and at first they detained him as a material witness. They wanted his testimony for a grand jury convened in New York to investigate the 2001 terrorist attacks. Padilla was taken to a high-security federal prison in Manhattan and put in solitary confinement. U.S. district court judge Michael Mukasey appointed Donna Newman, a little-known criminal defender, to represent him. She recalls meeting with him for a total of 20 hours.
It is difficult to put a sympathetic shine on Padilla, though Newman tries. Born in 1970 to a working-class Puerto Rican family in Brooklyn, Padilla grew up in Chicago, where he joined a gang and committed crimes including aggravated battery and armed robbery. He served time in Florida for handgun possession and is said to have converted to Islam in prison.
"He was very confused," Newman remembers. "He was not angry or outraged. He was very calm, quiet. He made a great effort to understand what was happening and had great confidence in me." She says Padilla did not express his reportedly radical Muslim views to her.
Padilla's mother calls her frequently, says Newman, who claims he had gone to Chicago to visit his son. His family are "very concerned and very warm," she says, but they refuse to speak to reporters. Unlike the family of John Walker Lindh, who spoke with anguish about the misguided youth to Katie Couric and other national outlets, Padilla's kin are "very press-shy," says Newman. "But that doesn't mean they love him any less."