South Sea Gold: Chapter Twenty

"What am I charged with?" Jon asked the sergeant, as the two policeman paraded him slowly through the city room, down to the reception area and out to the waiting police car. His hands were cuffed behind his back, and the constable steadied him going down the stairs. Maxine's jaw dropped with amazement as they passed her desk and placed him in the car. She saw a man in the street had a camera, and flashed it in Jon's face just before the door closed.

"Nice orchestration," observed Jon, as the camera flashed a second time. He recognized the camera man from one of the Journal's rival papers. "Are you going to tell me the charges?" he asked the sergeant again, as the car drove away.

"The desk officer will go over all that at the station," the sergeant replied, and that was all Jon could get out of him. He soon realized they were not headed for the local district station. After a five-minute trip across town, the car turned down an alley and parked behind an unfamiliar building. The silent sergeant escorted him up a short flight of stairs to a constabulary office.

"Your name is Jonathan Sinto?" the desk clerk intoned. "You are charged with writing and disseminating material dangerous to the interests of Papua New Guinea. How do you plead?"

Jon stared at him in astonishment. "What kind of nonsense is this?"

"How do you plead?" the clerk repeated.

"Not guilty, of course! I've never heard of such a law or charge in all my years as a news editor."

"You will come before the magistrate tomorrow for arraignment. You are entitled to counsel of law." To the waiting sergeant, the clerk said, "After I catalog his pocket contents, he can go in the holding cell."

Tom located him after a two-hour search. "Are you okay, Jon?" They sat facing each other, separated by bars, with a constable standing by.

"If you mean has anyone beaten me or threatened me, no they haven't. It's humiliating, mostly. Someone had given our competition a heads-up; one of their reporters was there outside the door to photograph me. Where is this place I'm in? They haven't given me any information except I'm accused of being a danger to the country."

"Or more likely to some big man in it," Tom said. "The sign on the front door reads RPNGC Special Investigations. By appointment only.

"I've never heard of it."

"Okay, now that I know where you are, I can get wheels rolling. I'll report to the boss, and Mr. Mobata, the Journal's lawyer, and your wife. What can we bring you?"

"Nothing at the moment."

"Any messages for the crew?"

"Only Sophia's motto, 'Damn the torpedoes; full speed ahead!'"

Tom saw the constable taking notes. "That last is an historical quote, not a threat," he said, as he passed by him. He turned and gave Jon a parting thumbs up and left the constable still writing.

Later that day, the editor-in-chief, James Baird, and Mr. Mobata the lawyer were no more successful in clarifying charges. In the visitor's room, Mobata asked the constable to leave the room. "Do you want your boss to step out, too?" Mobata asked Jon.

"No, he can stay. I've no secrets to hide."

"Now, what's this about your making a terrorist threat?"

Sinto was startled. "I didn't know I'd made any terrorist threats."

"Something about torpedoing a dam, the desk officer said."

"I said nothing of the sort! When Tom asked if I had any message for my staff, I answered with a sea-faring quote from a hundred fifty years ago, 'Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!' meaning keep working on what you are doing, no matter what happens."

Mobata pursed his lips. "Well, Jon, I must advise you to consider before you speak. Remember the old advice: 'anything you say may be used against you.'
"However," he continued, "we'll get you out of here if the paper is willing to post bail."

"Certainly," Mr. Baird said.

But the desk sergeant was firm. "The accused has made a threat about weapons," he said. "Under the circumstances, it increases his alleged danger to the country." And he refused to budge from that position. "The magistrate will hear his case tomorrow morning at nine."

"They want to keep us from making any claims in tomorrow's edition," Mr. Mobata said as he and the chief editor left the building. "The competition won't feel any need for such caution, and we'll see the story on their front page. The rumor will be all over town by the time we can tell our side. I'm sure the magistrate will dismiss all this tomorrow morning."

Tom visited Inspector Kerro later that afternoon, to see if he could get more information on the charge against Jon, or at least where the "Special Investigations" office fit into the rest of the RPNGC.

"It's an old decommissioned jail that's only used occasionally, nowadays," said Kerro. "I'm surprised they opened it up for this. They could just as easily have him questioned at headquarters."

"Why all the secrecy, and this nonsense about being a danger to the country?"

"Let me ask the chief inspector." He tapped out an in-house number on his phone. "Sir? Kerro here. Is there anything going on at the old jail house today?" He listened a moment. "Apparently someone is using it to question a suspect on a charge of disseminating material dangerous to the State. They have the local-news desk editor of the Journal down there . . .No, no, he is the suspect. . . .I've no idea . . . Yes sir, I'll follow up on it and let you know." Kerro put down the phone. "It's news to him, too."

"The sergeant at the jail told me there will be a magistrate's hearing tomorrow morning."

Kerro jotted a note. "This is interesting. It has all the markings of a smoke screen to take attention away from your investigation of mining practices. The police want to keep our own investigation out of the news for now, but tell Jon's lawyer that I offer to be a character witness in the hearing tomorrow. Then we can watch the show from ringside seats."

Tom arrived at district court in Waigani next morning to find that defense attorney Mobata had not only accepted Jason Kerro's offer, but had also co-opted the Journal's Mr. Baird and Sophia as witnesses, if needed. Tom greeted Mrs. Sinto and Matt Lin, in the spectator's section, and took a seat nearby, next to Jason.

"There are at least three reporters here from our competitors. They've already featured this case in their morning editions. Who's that at the public prosecutor's table?"

"He's a junior member of their staff," said Jason. "I don't know who the other guy is. Looks like they think the case is open-and-shut, or else too ridiculous to waste time with. We'll see in a few minutes."

"All rise!" Conversation in the courtroom ceased as Magistrate Peter Magoro entered, swept his eyes over the room and seated himself.

"This District Court is now in session," he said in a pleasant but firm voice as those in the room resumed their seats. "I note the presence of the news media, and I would remind them that taking pictures is not allowed in my courtroom. Will the clerk call the first case."

The clerk referred to the top sheet of several on his desk. "Mr. Jonathan Sinto."

"Are both Prosecution and Defense prepared?" the magistrate's voice was brisk and firm as he looked at a document before him.

"We are, sir."

"Mr. Sinto," the magistrate proceeded, "this is a preliminary hearing, to see whether a court trial is warranted. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"You are charged with spreading written material dangerous to the nation, and with conspiracy to . . ." he paused, frowning at the document, "destroy a dam? How do you plead?"

"Not guilty on both counts, sir."

"Sir, I wish to move that the prosecution has no case" said Mobata.

"Mr. Prosecutor? What is the basis for these unusual charges?"

"Sir," the young prosecutor said, "a constabulary precinct office received notification that the prisoner attempted to incite dissent against traditional policies of the government in dealing with foreign companies who intend to invest money in Papua New Guinea. Such dissent would prevent proper development of the nation. I present exhibit 'A' in evidence." He handed over a typed sheet.

The magistrate read the page to himself, and looked up. "Mr. Prosecutor, are you aware that this is, with a few misspellings, a copy of an editorial in the Port Moresby Journal of four days ago?"

"No, sir," said the prosecutor, crestfallen.

"And are you aware that Papua New Guinea's Constitution fully protects freedom of the press, and that the defendant here, the acknowledged author, is employed by The Journal to write such pieces? Then why is he under arrest?"

"Sir, the informant was represented to me as a member of the government. When, in addition, the defendant gave an order to a visitor to torpedo a dam, I thought matters urgent enough to demand prompt action."

The magistrate swiveled to face the defense table. "Mr. Sinto, do you have an explanation? Consult with your lawyer, if you wish."

Sinto was smiling with relief. "Sir, what I actually said is not what the constable at the jail apparently wrote down. In the newspaper office, we have a standing joke, quoting a command issued by Captain David Farragut of the American Navy two hundred years ago. When notified of enemy torpedoes, he gave the order, 'Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead!' I believe Mr. Mobata has witnesses to that conversation available to the court. At no time did I advise or order destruction of a dam."

The magistrate silenced a few laughing spectators, and looked as if he might be stifling a smile of his own. He then glared at the young prosecutor who was having a whispered conversation with a uniformed constable sitting behind him. "Mr. Prosecutor, I am familiar with Captain Farragut's frequently quoted order myself. I believe he was promoted to admiral soon afterward. Have you anything further to add?"

"No, sir."

"Mr. Prosecutor. I am aware that you are new in your job, and may have been set up by someone with an agenda which was not brought out into the open here. Rather than lecture you in open court, I shall see you in my office.

"This case is dismissed. Mr. Sinto, you are free to go. Next case."

Tom caught up with Inspector Kerro as they were leaving the court house. "That proceeding raises more questions than it answers, doesn't it."

"It surely does," said Kerro. I think all the publicity will make things safer for you, Tom, but it may interfere with the police case later. Be careful how you and your team report it."