Camilo Mejia Goes to Prison for His Stance Against the War in Iraq...

Camilo Mejia Goes to Prison for His Stance Against the
War in Iraq, While a Campaign to Free Camilo Begins

by Medea Benjamin

"Where is the justice?" cried Maritza Castillo, whose
28-year-old son Camilo Mejia was found guilty of
desertion on May 21 for refusing to return to Iraq.
"The American soldier who tortured Iraqi prisoners was
sentenced to one year in prison and my son, who
denounced these abuses and followed his conscience, was
also sentenced to one year in prison. Is that fair? Is
that just?"

At a court martial trial in Ft. Stewart, Georgia on May
19-21, Staff Sergeant Camilo Mejia Castillo, known by
friends and supporters simply as Camilo, was sentenced
to the maximum penalty of one year in prison, reduction
in rank to private, and a bad-conduct discharge for
refusing to return to Iraq.

"What an incredible irony that we’re prosecuting
soldiers in Iraq for violations of international law
and we’re prosecuting a soldier here because he refused
to do the same things," said former Attorney General
Ramsey Clark, a member of Camilo’s defense team.

Camilo’s stellar team of lawyers and experts, including
West Point graduate and Vietnam conscientious objector
Louis Font and international law professors Francis
Boyle and Jules Lobel, threatened to make the trial an
explosive indictment of the entire war. And given the
global outrage against the torture of Iraqi prisoners,
the defense planned to show that months before the
abuses became public, Camilo had already spoken out
against the cruel treatment of prisoners, as well as
the slaughter of civilians and the needless deaths of
American GIs.

But military judge Col. Gary Smith quickly squelched
those plans, ruling out issues related to the legality
of the war, the abuse of prisoners, and Camilo’s
conscientious objector claim. By denying all the
defense motions, the judge denied Camilo the
possibility of a fair trial. The defense was forced to
argue the case on the narrow technical grounds that
Camilo thought he was not under military jurisdiction
because he had already fulfilled his 8-year commitment
and because as a Costa Rican citizen, he could not be
forced to involuntarily remain in the US military. The
8-person military jury saw no merit to these claims and
ruled that Camilo had illegally abandoned his platoon.

The military was determined to make an example of
Camilo to stop other soldiers from refusing to fight.
His commander in Iraq, Capt. Tad Warfel, a man Camilo
accused of unnecessarily endangering the lives of his
soldiers to further his career, gloated after the
trial. He said the guilty verdict would send a message
that "deserters are punished, regardless of their
excuses."

Camilo Mejia’s journey from obedient soldier to fierce
opponent of the war was an 8-year ordeal. He spent
three years in the Army before joining the Florida
National Guard, and was deployed to Iraq in April 2003.
During his six-month deployment, Camilo received a
promotion to squad leader and commendations for his
courage and commitment. He was, according to his
commanding officers and the men under him who testified
at his trial, an exemplary and popular soldier.

But unbeknownst to the other soldiers, Camilo was
changing as he experienced the horror of war-the
firefights, the ambushes, the excessive use of force,
commanders who put glory over good strategy, soldiers
who were untrained and underequipped. He watched the
Iraqis quickly turn from welcoming to hostile, "At
first they were happy to see us. Then we started
setting up roadblocks, raiding their homes, killing
civilians, and their attitude changed," he recalled.
"The people didn’t want us there any more, and we
didn’t want to be there."

He was also deeply disturbed by the abuse of Iraqi
prisoners he witnessed. In fact, months before the
appearance of the Abu Graib photos, Camilo complained
to his superiors about conditions at a makeshift
detention camp near the Baghdad airport where Iraqis
were arbitrarily arrested and detained, and where he
and his men were directed by three unidentified
interrogators to "soften up" prisoners for questioning.
They were taught to stage mock executions, clicking
pistols near the ears of hooded prisoners, or to bang
on metal walls with sledgehammers to keep prisoners
awake for up to 48 hours.

In October 2003 Camilo went home on a two-week leave to
deal with his immigration status. It was during that
leave that he had a chance to reflect on all he had
seen and done in Iraq. He realized that the war was
based on lies about weapons of mass destruction and
ties with Al Qaeda, and that the subsequent claims of
saving Iraqis from a brutal dictator were a cover up
for the real aim of this war: controlling the country’s
oil and other resources, and gaining a permanent
military foothold in a strategic part of the world. He
decided he could not, in good conscience, continue to
participate in an "immoral, oil-driven war".

On March 15, 2004, surrounded by his family and
supporters from the anti-war movement, Camilo
surrendered to military authorities and filed for
discharge as a conscientious objector. He became the
first veteran from Iraq to publicly challenge the
morality of the war and refuse to fight. "Acting upon
my principles became incompatible with my role in the
military," Camilo declared as he turned himself in. "By
putting my weapon down I chose to reassert myself as a
human being,"

Camilo maintained that stance of courageous resistance
throughout his court martial trial. Both his testimony
and his statement before sentencing were riveting.
Poised, articulate and charismatic, he talked about how
innocent Iraqis were killed "as if they had no names,
no family, no feelings." He spoke about the
unacceptable loss of US lives by commanders who put
their troops at risk for medals and promotions. He
claimed that he was responding to a higher authority,
his conscience. "I will sit behind bars a free man,
knowing that I did the right thing," he declared. "I
have no regrets."

In the coming weeks, Camilo will get a hearing on his
application for conscientious objector. The outcome of
that hearing, however, does not directly affect his
prison sentence, although an approval might enhance his
appeal prospects.

While Camilo’s case did not get the kind of press
attention it deserved, he has put a public face on the
widespread disillusionment among the soldiers in Iraq
and among many in the military leadership. According to
the Pentagon’s own survey, morale among the troops in
Iraq is perilously low, and some 600 troops have failed
to return from their furloughs. Since the start of the
war, thousands of soldiers have called the GI hot-line
that gives soldiers legal advice about military
discharges and conscientious objector status.

"Camilo will be remembered in the history books as the
first in a long line of soldiers who rose up and helped
bring an end to the occupation of Iraq. He will not be
remembered as a deserter, but as a hero," said Gael
Murphy of Code Pink, a women’s peace group that has
been supporting Camilo and his family. Code Pink held
vigils outside the base during the trial, and even
protested on the base itself when the guilty verdict
was delivered.

Daniel Ellsberg of Pentagon Papers’ fame agreed that
Camilo is a hero. "Sergeant Mejia served his country
bravely and well in Iraq; but he is serving his country
better, and just as bravely, in his refusal to
participate further in what he correctly identifies as
an illegal war using illegal means."

Meanwhile, Martiza Castillo-a woman of tremendous
strength and resolve despite the fact that she barely
speaks English and is desperately short of funds-is
spearheading a campaign on her son’s behalf. She is
asking Amnesty International to consider him a Prisoner
of Conscience, she is raising money for his appeal, she
is pushing the Costa Rican government to advocate for
his release, and she plans to speak out to the press
and the public. "I will not rest until my son is free
and the US troops are out of the Iraq," said Maritza
defiantly. "This is not the end of my son’s case; this
is just the first battle."

Medea Benjamin is co-founder of Code Pink and the human
rights group Global Exchange.

To help the Free Camilo Campaign (needs include putting
up a website, raising funds, translating to and from
Spanish, contacting the press, and doing public
outreach), contact Code Pink at info@codepinkalert.org
or call 415-575-5555.

by CommonDreams.org