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“Benny Sugg” has his name on boxes throughout all of the three sea services. Benny—slang for Beneficial Suggestion—has resulted in the adoption of many good ideas, but the Benny of this story got involved in a very bad idea.
It rivals a multinational corporation in that, every day of the week, every week of the year, it employs thousands of people, hundreds of vessels, and the latest in equipment technology and sophistication. Its operations are protected by intelligence and counterintelligence networks around the globe. The business is drug smuggling.
Each year, at least ten thousand tons of marijuana are smuggled into the United States by sea. Twice daily, a “mother ship” carrying a multi-ton cargo of marijuana departs Colombia for the U. S. market. The vessels making this profitable journey include everything from sailing yachts to oceangoing freighters. About one out of five will be seized by the U. S. Coast Guard.
The Coast Guard operates about 50 82-foot patrol boats. Each is powered by twin turbocharged diesels, mounts two 50 caliber machine guns, and carries a crew of nine commanded by either a lieutenant (junior grade) or a master chief boatswain’s mate. Each boat is assigned to a par' ticular geographic patrol area. The USCGC Point Warcle (WPB-82368) is one such boat. Homeported in San Juan, Puerto Rico, her patrol area includes the Caribbean Sea and portions of the Atlantic Ocean east of the Haitian/ Dominican Republic border. The area also includes the Turks and Caicos Islands. Just southeast of the Bahamas, this handful of barren, windswept cays has been a favorite operating base and frequent transshipment point for smuggling organizations.
Since a U. S. Air Force tracking station, with a sturdy Pier and a ready supply of diesel fuel, is located on Grand Turk Island, the Point Warde can operate in the area despite her 300-mile distance from San Juan. Thus, on 1 June 1982, the cutter pulled into the Air Force station, took on a full load of fuel, and set out to enforce the law at sea.
For two days, the Point Warde prowled the waters north and south of the Turks Islands, but the cuttermen encountered only some large freighters off of the Dominican RePublic coast and a solitary Chinese longliner fishing well j"ast of the Bahamas. Even so, the crew was kept busy battling the rough seas. By the end of Wednesday, the first bay, the Point Warde was fighting her way through ten- toot seas, which lifted half of her hull out of the water on bead sea courses and rolled her 40° each way on beam sea fadings. Consequently, the crewmen, grasping whatever they could as they carried out their duties, were combating growing fatigue. Everyone on board was looking forward to the third day’s scheduled Grand Turk refueling stop. By the time Friday’s midwatch had settled into its preawn underway routine, it seemed this patrol might end in isappointment. The crew had not boarded any vessels, Jtor had they made any significant intelligence sightings.
oreover, it was unlikely that the cutter would surprise “toy smugglers that evening since she was not steaming at arkened ship, which was her usual patrol practice. The eavy seas and high winds had reduced visibility enough at the Point Warde was forced to cruise with her stan- aJjd navigational lights set and burning brightly.
herefore, a somewhat skeptical bridge watch altered radfSe shortly after m>dnight to identify an intermittent ar contact approximately 15 miles southeast of the
larger Turks Islands. Although the target had appeared on the cutter’s scope at a range of only four and a half miles, the cuttermen could not visually spot her. By the time they closed the mystery target to just about a mile, however, the crew spied a shadowy form apparently dead in the water. Since the navigational chart indicated there were shoals in the vicinity, the Point Warde's searchlight was energized and directed at the phantom. A set of navigational lights appeared at once. What was more, a second contact, apparently headed for the heretofore darkened ship, appeared on the cutter’s radar scope. Hoping they had stumbled upon a clandestine offshore rendezvous, the Coast Guardsmen quickly doused all of the Point Warde's lights and hauled off to a safe distance. Interestingly, as soon as the cutter’s lights were extinguished, the first contact’s also disappeared.
For the next 90 minutes, the anxious Point Warde crewmen watched. The second vessel, a medium-sized freighter, approached and then passed the first without stopping. When it was clear the two were not going to meet, the Coast Guardsmen energized the cutter's lights, opened the throttles on both engines, and raced for the still-drifting initial contact. Within one mile of their quarry, the cuttermen spotted her navigational lights once again, and at 500 yards, they were finally able to illuminate the vessel. A rusty 60-foot converted fishing vessel riding low in the water, drifting with bedsheets apparently rigged as sails, filled the Point Warde's searchlight beam. Although the vessel had no home port displayed, a tattered Honduran flag flew from a flagstaff aft. A hand-lettered name was scrawled on both bows. She was the motor vessel Benny.
The Point Warde's crew later learned that the Benny had a long and colorful history. Though it is unclear when and where the craft was built, she was probably at least 20 years old. For the last ten of those, she had been rented to various organizations in the smuggling trade, sailing as either the Benny or the Gala. In 1977, she was seized by the Colombian Navy for smuggling marijuana. Three years later, she was spotted in the Caribbean heading for the United States with what one intelligence report indicated was a ten-ton load of marijuana. The Benny managed to elude capture on that voyage and did not surface again until March 1981, when she was seen in Baran- quilla, Colombia, being readied for another smuggling trip to the United States. A year later, she was photographed in Colombia moored alongside a former U. S. Coast Guard cutter as both awaited large cargoes of contraband. Here, in 1982, she was drifting under a bizarre improvised sailing rig on a windswept sea south of the Turks and Caicos Islands.
The Point Warde radioed the Benny, but she did not answer. Therefore, the Coast Guardsmen were forced to communicate with her by shouting. The resultant conversation, conducted alternately in English and Spanish, identified the Benny's captain and produced some curious answers to the Coast Guardsmen’s questions. The vessel’s master claimed the Benny was registered in Honduras but, when pressed for a home port, could not come up with one. He claimed his last port of call had been in Honduras but was unable to remember exactly which port it had been. As for his next port of call, he first stated he was headed to Nassau to tow a disabled boat to Honduras. Moments later, however, he said he was on his way to Long Island in the Bahamas to deliver a cargo of coffee. Finally, the master claimed that the Benny had been broken down for the past four to five hours and would be under way again within the next three.
Throughout this encounter, he asked for his vessel’s position, which was provided. In the meantime, through a quick radio check with the U. S. Justice Department’s El Paso Intelligence Center in Texas, the crew of the Point Warde learned that the Benny and her crew were suspected
of smuggling marijuana and that the vessel’s last known position had been off of the Colombian «'oast.
The Benny's ramshackle appearance, improbable location, and her master’s conflicting reports all fit the textbook profile of a marijuana “mother ship.” Still, without clear indication that the vessel was bound for the United States, the master’s claim of Honduran registry raised a serious jurisdictional challenge to a U. S. Coast Guard boarding on the high seas. Yet, international law has no prohibition against boarding a foreign ship with the master’s permission. In fact, these high seas “consensual boardings” are routine for Coast Guard cutter operations.
Therefore, the captain of the Point Warde asked the shabby vessel’s master for permission to board to verify her registry and cargo. The master granted his permission. But the words were scarcely uttered before he was pulled aside by another crewman on the vessel. After a brief interchange, the captain returned to the rail and rescinded his permission, saying the United States had no jurisdiction over the Benny. In response, the cuttermen called the Coast Guard’s San Juan Operations Center and initiated a request for a Statement of No Objection to board the Benny.
The Coast Guard uses the Statement of No Objection process to coordinate its actions in various nonmilitary incidents involving foreign vessels. In this case, verification of the Benny's registration with the government of Honduras and a subsequent determination of U. S. jurisdiction based upon the result of that check would first be sought. Once such a determination was made, an ad hoc group of representatives from a number of U. S. Government departments and agencies would seek a course of action consistent with U. S. diplomatic, military, and law enforcement policies. Having reached a consensus, the group would determine whether a boarding should be conducted. Finally, a message would be sent to the Point Warde's commanding officer. With luck, that message would state that the Commandant of the Coast Guard had “no objection” to the Point Warde's boarding party searching the vessel in question. The process seems complicated, but it is conducted with relative ease almost daily by the Coast Guard and the other actors involved. At times, the process can be concluded in a matter of hours; at other times, it has required as long as a week.
Having initiated the Statement of No Objection process, the Point Warde's captain once again tried to obtain permission for a consensual boarding. This time, the Benny's crew first claimed their captain was asleep and could not be awakened, then literally turned their backs on the Coast Guard cutter. But on this particular downwind approach to the freighter, the cuttermen smelled the unmistakable odor of marijuana. Further attempts at communication proved futile; thus, the Point Warde merely circled her curious find and awaited the Commandant’s message.
By 1030, the Benny's crew was finally willing to resume the previous evening’s conversation. A crewman claimed that the still-drifting freighter’s captain had departed the vessel two days earlier in search of repair parts. Since smugglers anxious to avoid responsibility for the contraband on board their vessel commonly employ this “absent master” tactic, the Coast Guardsmen’s suspicions were raised even more than they already were. Still, permission for a consensual boarding could not be obtained. As an alternative, the Benny's spokesman was persuaded to read the vessel’s registration number from what he claimed was the freighter’s official Honduran document. This also proved suspect, since the number given was inconsistent with the Honduran vessel numbering scheme.
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Upon reaching the forward hold, the sweep team Opened the unlocked hatch cover. A cargo of 40-pound ^uflap bales filled the space to the hatch coaming. A quick le d test of the vegetable matter inside confirmed the pres- Ce °f THC, the active ingredient in marijuana. Within b lnufes, the Benny was seized and each of her crew mem- ers individually arrested, handcuffed, searched, and ad-
Shortly after noon, the freighter’s crewmen once again denied permission for a boarding. By now, their story had expanded. They claimed their master was due back with the repair parts soon. Still, though all agreed that a white “yacht” had transported their leader, none could remember the yacht’s name or exactly when she was due to return. The Point Warde resumed her frustrating waiting game.
Fortunately, the wheels of policy and diplomacy had been turning in Washington, D.C., and Tegucigalpa, Honduras. By 1300, it was determined that Honduras had no registration on file for the Benny. Consequently, the vessel could be legally ‘‘assimilated to statelessness” and was therefore subject to the law enforcement jurisdiction of the United States. The various agencies and departments consulted (ranging from the Immigration and Naturalization Service to the White House Situation Room) in the Statement of No Objection process supported a policy of board- lng the errant freighter and, for enforcement purposes, Seating her as a U. S. vessel. The word was passed to the unxious Point Warde crew. Within five minutes, at 1506, a four-man boarding party led by the cutter’s executive Petty officer headed for the Benny.
The Coast Guardsmen, covered by machine gun and r'fle marksmen in the Point Warde and the cutter’s small °°at, immediately mustered seven Benny crewmen on the reighter’s fantail. A two-man Coast Guard team then made a quick ‘‘security sweep” of the vessel to ascertain whether any others were on board. In so doing, the pair Were almost overwhelmed by the strong odor of marijuana I roughout the vessel. Moreover, in a trip through the pi- mhouse, they found a few pieces of Benny's navigational ^harts scattered on deck; the charts had been shredded and bearded over the side. Also, all but one of the vessel’s radios had been removed from their mounts and placed in ^ardboard boxes. In short, the freighter’s crew had already feen busy covering their tracks and readying their vessel l0r seizure.
As the crew members of the Benny learned when they were apprehended by Coast Guardsmen, opposite page, and later when more than 21,000 pounds of marijuana were removed from their vessel, drug smuggling is a high-risk, high-stakes, high-seas game of cat and mouse—one in which, in the words of our author, below, “the losers go to jail.”
vised of his Miranda rights.
What remained now was the formidable task of getting seven prisoners, at least ten tons of marijuana, a 60-foot disabled freighter, an 82-foot patrol boat, and nine proud but exhausted Coast Guard sailors safely to San Juan. Moreover, since the Point Warde had postponed her refueling stop to resolve the Benny case, the cutter was desperately low on fuel. Thus, the cuttermen were a bit concerned to learn that diplomatic and jurisdictional considerations precluded tanking up in Grand Turk once the seizure had been made. Instead, the Point Warde was directed to rendezvous with an unnamed U. S. ship for underway refueling as soon as the arrangements could be made. In the meantime, the cuttermen secured the prisoners in their berthing area in the Benny, sent several days’ worth of supplies to the seized vessel’s three-man custody crew, and took the heavily laden freighter in tow for the journey home.
Several hundred miles to the south, the USS Edward McDonnell (FF-1043) was receiving a phone patch from Commander, Second Fleet. The frigate had just completed her final day of refresher training at Guantanamo, Cuba. Now, she was being sent to sea earlier than planned to deliver fuel to the Point Warde. Within hours, the ship was under way. By 0330 Saturday, she was steaming alongside the Coast Guard cutter as both struggled against the persistent ten-foot seas. Shortly after first light, the actual transfer operation began. The Point Warde had no highline fittings to facilitate the evolution, and only three men were available to haul on lines. Nevertheless, an improvised rig was quickly devised, and a healthy supply of food and fuel was transferred to the grateful cuttermen.
Then, the Point Warde'% needs satisfied, the transfer rig was broken, the Benny towed on station 40 yards off the frigate’s quarter, and fresh-baked donuts, steak, eggs, and milk were delivered to the custody crew. This transfer was more difficult than the first, since one custody crew member was needed to steer, a second to guard the prisoners, and only the third was available to haul on lines and receive the supplies. The entire episode took less than four hours. By noon, the Edward McDonnell had steamed away. The Point Warde and her increasingly fatigued crew continued alone.
Late Saturday night, a manacled prisoner on the Benny managed to dislodge an engine room pipe fitting in an attempt to sink the freighter and eliminate the many tons of evidence stowed in her holds. Unfortunately, the incident occurred both when the custody crew’s portable radio failed and when a squall was bearing down on the cutter and her tow. The custody crew sent a hasty flashing light message to the Point Warde, and a rescue detail rushed to their aid in the cutter’s small boat. By the time it arrived, the Benny’s main deck was awash aft, and the engine room was rapidly filling with water. But the weary cuttermen, nevertheless, managed to save the vessel. By 0100, the freighter was patched, dewatered, and secure once again.
In the morning, a Coast Guard helicopter arrived to deliver several fresh custody crew members to the cutter. The operation proved a bit ticklish in the rough seas. An unexpectedly large swell nearly shoved the patrol boat’s highest radio antennae into the helo’s whirling rotor blades. Then, an inflatable cell in the cutter’s Avon small boat was punctured. The cuttermen spent the remainder of the day repairing the damage to the boat and simply trying to endure the final leg of the journey. Unfortunately, most of the fresh custody crewmen were quickly overcome by seasickness and thus the regular Point Warde crew continued to perform the lion’s share of the work.
On Monday morning, the Point Warde reached San Juan. With news coverage from local television and newspaper camera crews, the Benny, her cargo, and her crew were turned over to Customs and Drug Enforcement Administration officials. The exhausted cuttermen immediately met with representatives of the U. S. Attorney’s office to begin plans for the legal battles to follow. After this initial two-hour debrief, the Coast Guardsmen could at last head for home, a hot shower, and some sleep. Before
leaving, however, the crew was given the total figures on the amount of contraband that had been removed from the Benny: 21,920 pounds.
As for the prisoners, each would be charged with a single count of violating Section 955(a) of Title 21 of the U. S. Code (possession of a controlled substance with the intent to distribute). Their bail was set at $300,000 apiece. None could meet that amount. Even as some of the group were telling television reporters that they were innocent sailors who honestly believed their cargo was coffee, it was discovered that two of their number were fugitives from the Bahamas. Also, the master and engineer had been arrested three months previously on another smuggling vessel and had jumped bail to make their most recent trip.
The trial followed six weeks later and lasted three days. The master pleaded guilty at his arraignment thus was not present at the trial proceedings. The remaining six defendants, one Cuban and five Colombians, protested their innocence, using the standard “mere presence” smuggling defense. The defendants claimed they were “merely present” where the marijuana was located and had never actually known about it or possessed the contraband at all. They repeated their earlier claim that they thought they had been carrying coffee. Their coffee-carrying story was hardly convincing, however, because of the crew members’ vague and often contradictory testimony. Moreover, a trip by the entire court—judge, jurors, recorder, etc.— to the Benny made the already tenuous defense even more implausible. It became clear to the jurors that spending almost two weeks (by the defendants’ own admission) in the freighter’s cramped spaces and still not realizing the cargo was marijuana was a dubious story.
Thus, the jury took an average of only 15 minutes per defendant to find each guilty “beyond a reasonable doubt.” The judge sentenced the master to three years of confinement, the engineer to five, and each of the remaining crewmen to four years in jail. A subsequent defense appeal to the First Circuit Court of Appeals led to a reaffirmation of the lower court’s guilty verdicts.
Today, the Benny’s sailors are all serving time in the federal penitentiary in Atlanta, Georgia. The Benny herself sits alongside a handful of other forfeited smuggling vessels in San Juan. As for the Point Warde, she was back on the beat in short order. Less than two weeks after seizing the Benny, the cutter intercepted the Sante Fe, a 70- foot stateless shrimper with an 18-ton cargo of marijuana, near the island of Antigua. And the story continues. Other vessels have replaced the Benny, just as other smugglers have filled her crewmen’s shoes. In the meantime, Coast Guard cutters and aircraft continue to prowl the seas, searching for the unwary or unlucky practitioners of the smugglers’ illicit trade. Both are participants in a high- risk, high-stakes, high-seas game of cat and mouse. And the losers go to jail.
Lieutenant Abel, a frequent contributor to Proceedings, graduated from the U. S. Coast Guard Academy in 1979. His tours of duty include communications officer in the USCGC Reliance (WTR-615) and commanding officer in the Point Warde. He is currently the senior instructor at the Coast Guard’s Maritime Law Enforcement School in Yorktown, Virginia.