F.B.I.: No Birthday at 100
The Federal Bureau of Investigation (the FBI)--the united states' federal police-- has just celebrated its 100th year of existence. It would be expected, then, for there to have been a birthday present on that 26th of July. The outcome of a seven year long case would finally be announced, one which had been embarrassing the investigators and staining the institutions reputation even further. One team of agents went to Bruce Irvin's house--a microbiologist for the army at Fort Detrick, in the city of Frederick, Maryland--to announce that the scientist would be formally accused for the anthrax terrorist attacks. In 2001, shortly after the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, letters containing the poisonous powder were sent to members of Congress and of the media leaving a trail of 17 sick and 5 dead.
The shine of the FBI's centennial celebration, however, was to be tarnished. On the 29th, Irvins committed suicide. A tsunami of suspicion and criticisms descended upon the Bureau. Reporters, scientists, friends and relatives of the scientist all demanded concrete evidence of his involvement, and accused the investigators of forging incrimination through dubious means. Until then, the only evidence relating to the case was purely circumstantial. The director of the world's most famous police agency, Robert Mueller, claimed that he would only publicly announce conclusive documents after communicating the findings with the victims relatives. This would not be until August 6th. And it was seen as a collection of pertinent, but contestable incriminations.
It has been pointed out that the scientist had started spending a lot of time after work, in addition to his normal practice, without giving any convincing explanations for this. He sent emails to friends, alerting them on the dangers of chemical attacks against Americans and Jews in a tone similar to that contained in the contaminated letter. He supplied investigators with defective examples of the substance he was working with. He frequently wrote to the media and would travel long distances to change the letter's return address. Marks on the envelopes which contained the anthrax revealed that they were all bought in the local Frederick post office. After a search through his home the scientist got rid of an important book on DNA codes, while he was being watched. And, the gravest: examples of the substance came from the RMR1029 batch, which was under Irvin's exclusive control.
"None of this can guarantee a victory in the courts" evaluates Marlon Ascott, a professor at the University of California, who specializes in penal law. "In the U.S.A., a person is only condemned when proof that does not allow for a shadow of a doubt is presented against them. That which was presented by the F.B.I. leaves these doubts. A good trial layer could beat these accusations"
The jurist also pointed out that the very same F.B.I. is accused of having used coercion to obtain information from friends and family of the accused.
"The agent's procedure was so brutal that it drove the scientist to suicide. He was fragile, had mental problems, was an alcoholic and couldn't take the pressure. All the techniques used during the investigation would come to light in court, which could make much of the evidence inadmissible. Furthermore, when people talk of the case being closed we forget that Ivins was not indicted for anything. The case is not over." sentenced Ascott.
Similar investigative tactics were employed on more than 20 American scientists in this case. One of them, Steve Hatfull, appointed by the Department of Justice as a "person of interest." The notoriety exerted so much pressure on the microbiologist, also from Frederick, that he decided to counter-attack. After it became clear that the F.B.I. did not have strong enough evidence against his person, Hatfill sued then-Secretary of Justice John Ascroft in August of 2003. Last year, on the 27th of June, a tribunal sentenced the Department of Justice to pay damages to the tune of $5,8 million to Hatfill.
It was concrete proof that the F.B.I. had, once again, messed up. One more case of incompetence would be added to the centenary history of a police agency which has a record fat with nonsense.
The shine of the FBI's centennial celebration, however, was to be tarnished. On the 29th, Irvins committed suicide. A tsunami of suspicion and criticisms descended upon the Bureau. Reporters, scientists, friends and relatives of the scientist all demanded concrete evidence of his involvement, and accused the investigators of forging incrimination through dubious means. Until then, the only evidence relating to the case was purely circumstantial. The director of the world's most famous police agency, Robert Mueller, claimed that he would only publicly announce conclusive documents after communicating the findings with the victims relatives. This would not be until August 6th. And it was seen as a collection of pertinent, but contestable incriminations.
It has been pointed out that the scientist had started spending a lot of time after work, in addition to his normal practice, without giving any convincing explanations for this. He sent emails to friends, alerting them on the dangers of chemical attacks against Americans and Jews in a tone similar to that contained in the contaminated letter. He supplied investigators with defective examples of the substance he was working with. He frequently wrote to the media and would travel long distances to change the letter's return address. Marks on the envelopes which contained the anthrax revealed that they were all bought in the local Frederick post office. After a search through his home the scientist got rid of an important book on DNA codes, while he was being watched. And, the gravest: examples of the substance came from the RMR1029 batch, which was under Irvin's exclusive control.
"None of this can guarantee a victory in the courts" evaluates Marlon Ascott, a professor at the University of California, who specializes in penal law. "In the U.S.A., a person is only condemned when proof that does not allow for a shadow of a doubt is presented against them. That which was presented by the F.B.I. leaves these doubts. A good trial layer could beat these accusations"
The jurist also pointed out that the very same F.B.I. is accused of having used coercion to obtain information from friends and family of the accused.
"The agent's procedure was so brutal that it drove the scientist to suicide. He was fragile, had mental problems, was an alcoholic and couldn't take the pressure. All the techniques used during the investigation would come to light in court, which could make much of the evidence inadmissible. Furthermore, when people talk of the case being closed we forget that Ivins was not indicted for anything. The case is not over." sentenced Ascott.
Similar investigative tactics were employed on more than 20 American scientists in this case. One of them, Steve Hatfull, appointed by the Department of Justice as a "person of interest." The notoriety exerted so much pressure on the microbiologist, also from Frederick, that he decided to counter-attack. After it became clear that the F.B.I. did not have strong enough evidence against his person, Hatfill sued then-Secretary of Justice John Ascroft in August of 2003. Last year, on the 27th of June, a tribunal sentenced the Department of Justice to pay damages to the tune of $5,8 million to Hatfill.
It was concrete proof that the F.B.I. had, once again, messed up. One more case of incompetence would be added to the centenary history of a police agency which has a record fat with nonsense.
Next article![]( "Washington Is Playing With Fire")
