Mexico Testing ‘Moral Renovation’ Policy : Durazo and System: Both on Trial

In the course of a rare corruption trial, Mexico is learning as much about the difficulties of pinning down official wrongdoing as about the unsavory activities of some of its law enforcement officials.

On trial is a former Mexico City chief of police, Arturo Durazo, nicknamed “El Negro,” or, loosely, “Blackie.” He was extradited recently from Los Angeles to face charges of extorting $700,000 from officers under his control, illegally stockpiling 150 weapons and possessing valuable imported goods in violation of customs laws.

Durazo allegedly acquired an illicit fortune while he was chief of police from 1978 to 1982. A luxurious house he built here, complete with private hippodrome and discotheque, has been taken over by the government and turned into the National Museum of Corruption. As chief of police, he was paid $300 a month.

The Durazo trial is considered an important test of President Miguel de la Madrid’s campaign for “moral renovation” of his government to eliminate corruption. Many Mexicans already regard the campaign as a lost cause; failure to convict Durazo could set it back even more.

Official Embarrassment

In one way or another, the trial is producing little but embarrassing news for the Mexican law enforcement system.

A number of witnesses have retracted their accusations against Durazo. Statements by these witnesses, all either former or current police officers, had been instrumental in getting Durazo extradited from the United States.

The statements focused on charges that police officers under Durazo’s command were forced to make payoffs to him. The officers allegedly handed over a portion of bribes they accepted routinely from motorists and other citizens.

The officers now say that officials in the attorney general’s office forced them to make the statements against Durazo. If this is so, the attorney general’s office coerced witnesses. If it is not, the officers must be lying.

So far, 15 witnesses have retracted earlier statements, and the judge hearing the case has ordered them investigated for perjury.

Eight other witnesses have admitted passing on bribes to their superiors but deny they did so under threats from Durazo, as charged by the prosecution.

‘Many Falsehoods’

Recently, the former head of the Federal District Auxiliary Police told the judge, Maria de Jesus Medel, that his written testimony contained “many falsehoods.” The former officer, retired Gen. Raul Perez Arceo, said, “I only signed it because in the main office of the federal district attorney general, they threatened that if I didn’t do it I would stay in detention.”

Along with Durazo, Perez Arceo is accused of taking money from officers under his command. The Auxiliary Police, known in Mexican slang as “avocados” because of their greenish-brown uniforms, issue parking tickets on city streets. By giving a small bribe to the avocados, motorists can double-park or leave their cars in no-parking zones.

In another retraction, a former vehicle-licensing officer took back a statement he had made about making payments to an assistant of Durazo’s. The officer said the payments were part of the tips his subordinates received for expediting drivers’ licenses. He said that agents from the attorney general’s office told him “things could get worse” if he refused to sign a damaging statement against Durazo.

Three other witnesses said they were kept in jail three days without food, water or sanitary facilities until they signed statements against Durazo. In their statements they had charged that a subordinate of Durazo’s made them turn over $100 a week and make annual gifts of four gold coins worth about $1,800 each.

Some Stand by Charges

A few witnesses have stood by their statements. One, a motorcycle policeman, said he had been forced to make unspecified payments every eight days for “office expenses.”

An employee of the drivers’ license department said officers there adjusted the tips according to the price of Mexican gold coins.

Some of the witnesses who stood by their statements said they handed over money with the understanding that it would be used to finance “police festivities” on such holidays as Mother’s Day. These witnesses said that such parties had been held but that no one seemed to have an accounting of how much anything cost.

The collections are taken not from the policeman’s pay but from the bribes he accepts. Besides taking bribes from motorists for traffic violations and parking infractions, it is widely believed that some Mexican police officers take money from thieves and permit them to operate freely in the officers’ neighborhoods. All such bribes, tips and payoffs are known, in street slang, as la mordida , “the bite.”

The Durazo trial is expected to last several months. For now, the proceedings involve a review of earlier testimony. The defendant is permitted, if directly accused, to question the witness, a legal face-off known as the careo.

The trial is taking place in a complex of small courtrooms adjoining the prison where Durazo is held. Considering its importance, the trial is remarkably informal.

The judge, dressed in stylish leather jackets, sits at a Formica-topped table across from the witnesses, who are flanked by prosecution and defense attorneys. Behind them, reporters strain to hear the testimony. Durazo, dressed in Windbreaker and open shirt, watches the proceedings from a small cell set behind the judge.

At one point recently, the judge interrupted the proceedings because she had to pick up her children at their school. At another point, chanting judicial workers campaigning for their union leadership barged into the trial waving placards.

Despite the retraction of statements, the trial seems to be moving in no clear direction. Even if the charges against Durazo fail to hold up, the government can bring other charges against him and the appeal process could mean years before there would be any final disposition.