Washington—The adversary process in criminal courtrooms is a device designed, however clumsily, to penetrate puzzles; but so far Oliver North’s trial has mainly served to thicken the clouds around the riddle of just who he was.
Special Prosecutor John Keker’s North was subordinate to no one’s wishes except his own, while defense counsel Brendan Sullivan’s North was the pure instrument of his president’s will. Government says that North’s works were his alone; and his lawyer insists that they were all the government’s.
Witness Robert Owen has come and gone, a North devotee like most of those called to testify against him and, like just as many, a deepener of his mystery. Owen recalled an afternoon in August of 1985, when he sat in the office of Benjamin Piza, Costa Rica’s minister of security, with CIA Station Chief José Fernandez; together they planned the construction of an airstrip for ferrying supplies to the exiguous operations of the Nicaraguan contras at the border.
This enterprise would be managed by Colonel José Montero Quesada, who had promised to show his gratitude for this commercial opportunity by designating the airfield as a military zone, assigning Costa Rican troops from his command to guard it, and rounding up a sufficient quotient of “peones” to lend artistic verisimilitude to its camouflage as a cattle ranch.
Then Owen was off to check the property, taking CIA Station Chief Fernandez with him as chauffeur and photographer. He returned to favor Lewis Tambs, the US ambassador to Costa Rica, with a briefing on the plan.
There may be those who have trouble with the special prosecutor’s suggestion that Oliver North was not a proper representative of the government of the United States. No such doubts need detain us about the status of Robert Owen. He had no credentials at all; he was a private citizen uncleared for classified information, let alone any transactions as covertly covert as this one.
In a few months, Owen would establish a tenuous official tie as a consultant to the State Department’s program for humanitarian aid to the contras, a responsibility to which he was welcomed by his new boss, Robert E. Duemling, with a churlish greeting as “Oliver North’s boy” and at which he busied himself most zealously when he was borrowing planes to ferry weapons after they had unloaded medical supplies and reporting back to North on the war’s lack of progress.
Until then Owen had traveled without visible trace of a portfolio; and yet, on a single day, he had negotiated with a Costa Rican cabinet minister, done the ambassador to Costa Rica the courtesy of an update on developments in diplomatic relations between the United States and his host country; and all the while the CIA station chief was in attendance as guide and bearer.
There come to mind in these tableaus the old stories about Soviet espionage that never so started the hairs as in the scene where the KGB courier proves his authenticity to his American contact…
This article is available to online subscribers only.
Please choose from one of the options below to access this article:
Purchase a print premium subscription (20 issues per year) and also receive online access to all all content on nybooks.com.
Purchase an Online Edition subscription and receive full access to all articles published by the Review since 1963.
Purchase a trial Online Edition subscription and receive unlimited access for one week to all the content on nybooks.com.
Copyright © 1989 Newsday, Inc.