Operation Massacre

by Rodolfo Walsh

  Signed Hueyo, Rodríguez Moreno, secretary Paladino, page 58 and following in criminal case number 3702 tried before the Eighth Criminal Court of First Instance in the city of La Plata.

  This, then, is the document that the Liberating Revolution needs to answer to, and never will.

  It proves everything that I claimed in my articles for Mayoría and in the first edition of this book: that a group of men were arrested before martial law was instated; that they were not given due process; that their identities were not verified; that they were not told what their crime was; and that they were massacred in an open field.

  Judge Hueyo dives right into this gaping hole in the State’s disavowal. The ink of Rodríguez Moreno’s signature is still fresh when the court gives its orders:

  1) To summon the second-in-command at the Mar del Plata District Police Department, Commissioner Benedicto Cuello, to offer a statement on Monday the 21st at 10:00 a.m.; 2) To summon the medic of the Moreno Police Precinct, Doctor Chiesa, to offer a statement that same Monday at 9:30 a.m.; 3) To establish the court on Tuesday the 22nd in the San Martín District Police Department to collect statements from the department staff; 4) To appear at the polyclinic of said city immediately to collect statements from the doctors, nurses, and other personnel, and to proceed to examine the institution’s books; 5) To authorize non-working days and non-working hours in order to continue with this investigation from the 22nd of the month onwards.

  The judge’s urgency was justified. Fernández Suárez, feeling cornered because of Rodríguez Moreno’s confession and the rumor (which took La Plata by storm) that his preemptive incarceration was imminent, went looking for help at the highest echelons of the Liberating Revolution. On the morning of Monday, January 21, 1957, accompanied by Colonel Bonnecarrere—the Province authority appointed by the Liberating Revolution—he requested a hearing with General Aramburu and was received in the presence of General Quaranta. Once there, he asked for and received assistance from the President of the Nation.

  That same night, Bonnecarrere called an emergency meeting, which Fernández Suárez attended. A special airplane was chartered to bring the president of the Supreme Court of the Province, Judge Amílcar Mercader, from the town of Ayacucho, which is where he was at that time. Discussed at length during this meeting were: the José León Suárez executions, the danger that the judge’s obvious determination to establish the truth posed to the Liberating Revolution, and the means that the Executive Power had at its disposal to avoid it.

  The following information about these desperate maneuvers leaked to the papers:

  Upon returning from our city, after interviewing the provisional president of the Nation in the early hours of the morning, State authority Colonel Bonnecarrere . . . is said to have met with his ministers and the Chief of Police around 8:30 p.m. in the Government House . . .

  This coincided with a visit from the head of the Supreme Court of the Province, Judge Amílcar A. Mercader.

  In both instances there was allegedly discussion of . . . issues connected to the workings of the Police Department of the Province of Buenos Aires, regarding recent events that are public knowledge, were discussed. (El Argentino from La Plata, January 22, 1957.)

  The Buenos Aires periodical La Razón also alluded to the proceedings in a text box with the heading “A Meeting,” reporting a discussion of “the events that took place last year in the region of San Martín.” These euphemisms were the extent of the freedom of the press that the country so enjoyed: the public was never informed about the existence of the Livraga file.

  It’s possible that the way things are going influences the tone of Commissioner Cuello, the ex-second-in-command of the San Martín District Police Department, when he gives his statement on Monday the twenty-first. His gives a defiant, at times furious testimony. It begins with a lie that, albeit easily disproven, shows that Fernández Suárez and his henchmen now understand what the core of the issue is: Cuello says that “at approximately 2300 hours on June 9, he was informed that the establishment of martial law had been broadcast over the radio.”

  This is false. State Radio played music by Bach at 10:31 p.m.; Ravel at 10:59 p.m.; Stravinsky at 11:30 p.m., and ended its programming at 12:00 a.m. with a marching song as usual. At 12:11 a.m. on June 10 it resumed its broadcast unexpectedly on all State Radio stations at once, aired light music for twenty-one minutes, and at precisely 12:32 a.m. began to read the text of the martial law.

  Cuello goes on:

  that at approximately 0030 hours on the 10th, or rather closer to midnight, a group of individuals was driven to the District Police Department. It was said that they were being held incommunicado and under the command of the Chief of Police, who had allegedly carried out the procedure of apprehending them . . . Asked by Your Honor if the intake of these prisoners was recorded in the department’s books, he states: that it was not done because they were being held incommunicado and under the Chief of Police’s command, so it was understood that they were stopping there briefly and would then be driven to headquarters. Asked by Your Honor if the regulation is not that prisoners are to be registered as soon as they arrive at the station, he responds: that the San Martín District Police Department does not have stations designated for holding prisoners, and when a few do come through, they stay only temporarily . . . Asked by Your Honor if the prisoners were questioned, the witness states: that he cannot quite recall if they were questioned, that they might have been asked a question or two because the reason for their arrest was unknown, but he does not remember if this was recorded in writing . . . Asked by Your Honor if he can provide the names of those who were arrested, he remembers Rodríguez and thinks he remembers a last name like Brión. Actually he thinks the last name was Lizazo, and he also remembers distinctly that Giunta was there; as for Juan Carlos Livraga, he does not remember him . . . Asked by Your Honor what happened next, he states: that at approximately five o’clock in the morning his chief, Rodríguez Moreno, stated that he had received, via direct communication over the police radio between himself and the Chief of Police, an order to execute the group that the Chief of Police had arrested in Florida, that in compliance with said order he made all the prisoners get into an assault car, each prisoner with his respective guard. Asked by Your Honor whether it was covered with the appropriate curtains, the witness states: that he is almost certain that it was; that said vehicle set out followed by the Department van, which was being directed by the chief of the District Department, who was accompanied by the declarant and perhaps another officer or another person, he does not recall; that they arrived at an open field, the precise location of which the declarant cannot affirm. He can only say that it was in the jurisdiction of San Martín, that the assault car came to a stop there and was lit up by the headlights of the van. They then proceeded with the execution of the prisoners and, upon completion, or rather upon establishing how many individuals had been executed, they realized that there were only five instead of the twelve or thirteen who had been driven there, and at that moment they realized that some of the prisoners had escaped.

  —When was that? —asked the judge.

  Cuello doesn’t know. He participated only “as a witness and as moral support [sic] for the chief, who had taken command of the execution.”

  It seems obvious that, when giving oneself to a moral task of this caliber, you cannot get too hung up on the details. But the escape, Cuello explains, “happened before the execution.”

  the judge. —How many were left dead?

  cuello. —Five.

  the judge. —Is it possible that, of those who faced the firing squad, some were left unharmed?

  cuello. —I don’t believe so.

  the judge. —How were these five executed?

  cuello. —I don’t recall, I think it was done in two groups.

  At this point, the commissioner takes a polemical turn that the judge records
on the back of page 62:

  “At this moment the witness says he considers it necessary to explain that he does not see the reason for the investigation that is being conducted regarding these executions, that they had been ordered in compliance with martial law, that he seems to recall that it was instated on the night of the ninth between 10:30 p.m. and 11:00 p.m., and is almost certain that all the prisoners knew it had been put into effect, because he even seems to recall that the District Police Department acquired knowledge of these circumstances based on statements made by the prisoners themselves.”

  It’s funny what this commissioner “seems to recall” considering how forgetful he is about other things (including the testimony he gave half an hour prior). First he says that “at approximately 2300 hours on June 9, he was informed that the instatement of martial law had been broadcast over the radio.” Then he said that the prisoners arrived “at approximately 0030 hours on the tenth, or rather closer to midnight.” And now he is saying that it’s these same prisoners who gave the news to the District Police Department, and therefore to him. But if they arrived at midnight, how could they have told him the news at eleven?

  Asked by the judge what they did with the bodies, Cuello says “that he does not know if it was immediately or by way of a subsequent order that they were driven to the morgue at the San Martín polyclinic.”

  Judge Hueyo shows him Livraga’s receipt and asks him if he recognizes it. Cuello admits it is “possible that this form was filled out at the District Police Department.”

  Does he recognize the signatures?

  He does not recognize them.

  Does he know that Livraga was subsequently arrested at the Department?

  He does not.

  Does he know that Livraga was in Moreno?

  He has no idea.

  Does he know if the executed men received a coup de grâce?

  He can’t say for sure.

  Does he know if the men who were executed were told what their crime was?

  He doesn’t know.

  His testimony is a web of inaccuracies and evasions. As opposed to Rodríguez Moreno, this officer believes that the dead are completely dead and that there is no reason to go around asking so many questions.

  On Tuesday, January 22, the judge goes to Florida in search of the “third man,” Horacio di Chiano. He doesn’t find him. He is in hiding and will only appear twenty days later when Enriqueta Muñiz and I manage to speak with him. Judge Hueyo questions Di Chiano’s wife, who confirms Giunta’s testimony and provides a new description of Fernández Suárez, “a large person who was wearing a military jacket with sand-colored gabardine pants, a person with dark hair and a mustache.”

  The judge asks what’s become of her husband. She responds that “the declarant has not seen her husband since the night in question either; she suspects that he is still alive, but he has not been home since.”

  On page 69 and following, two guards from the Florida precinct state that they participated in the raid. Their testimonies add nothing to the case.

  From Florida, the judge headed to the San Martín District Police Department, where he intended to establish the court. Waiting for him there was an urgent radio message from Police Headquarters, informing him that the judge’s presence was needed in the capital of the Province. Once he arrives in La Plata, the judge sits down to talk with the president of the Supreme Court of the Province.

  What was said during that meeting was never reported, but the game being played was plain to see. Advised by the best in the business, Bonnecarrere and Fernández Suárez figured out the magic formula for saving themselves: to get a military court to claim jurisdiction over the case.

  On that same day, January 22, Fernández Suárez deigns to respond to the judge’s requests for the first time. His response appears on page 71 and is stamped “Confidential.” It reads as follows:

  In response to His Honor’s official requests dated the 24th and 31st of December, 1956, and the 10th and 11th of the current month of January, related to Case Number 3702 entitled “Livraga, Juan Carlos – report,” I have the pleasure of addressing the judge and informing him of the following:

  1) Juan Carlos Livraga was condemned to death by the June 9, 1956 Decree 10.364 of the National Executive Power, the punishment to be carried out at the site of the events, in the district of San Martín, in accordance with martial law; it was not possible to complete the sentence regarding the person in question due to his having escaped moments before the execution.

  2) The corresponding records of this decree can be found in the Decree Office Archives of the President of the Nation.

  3) Due to the escape of the condemned, the execution could not be carried out at the time, and it was even less possible to complete it subsequently, after arresting him, as martial law had been lifted.

  4) As a result, since there had been a definitive ruling on the case, it was then also impossible to have any other authority intervene, given that he had already been tried for these charges.

  5) Instead, by Decree Number 11.219, he was put under the command of the National Executive Power and held in custody at the Olmos jail.

  Furthermore, I would like to inform Your Honor that martial law was instated by Decree-Law 10.362, of June 9, 1956, and put into effect by Decree 10.363, also on June 9, 1956.

  This latter decree establishes the following, in short:

  1) While martial law is in effect, the stipulations of Law 13.234 regarding the governance of the Nation during times of war will be applied.

  2) Every active officer of the armed forces carrying out his military duties will be able to call for a summary trial and have the power to apply a death sentence by execution to any disturber of the peace.

  3) Any person carrying weapons, disobeying police orders, or exhibiting suspicious behavior of any kind is considered a disturber of the peace.

  Since the case seems to originate with an alleged execution under abnormal circumstances, I think it fitting to note, as far as legality is concerned, that in every instance the application of these decrees requires only an oral order (Art. 138 of the Military Justice Code).

  In any event, given the press scandal that, with rather unclear motives, has been unleashed regarding this issue, it is appropriate to stress that the accountability of the authorities or of those in charge of applying a military decree can only be decided effectively by military courts and not by civil magistrates (Art. 136 of the Military Code of Justice).

  Remaining very sincerely yours, Your Honor.

  D. A. Fernández Suárez

  Lieutenant Colonel Chief of Police.

  So everything was legal. Livraga had been executed in compliance with a decree. There is just one tiny detail: the decree does not exist. Or rather, it exists, but it does not affect him at all, because it is a list of military personnel condemned to death, and it does not include Livraga.

  Fernández Suárez’s argument is one more blatant lie to add to all the previous ones.

  As for the “press scandal”: it was an exaggeration to give such a label to the articles I had printed out on a little sheet of paper that was hardly even circulated—articles which constituted the only reference to the matter that could be found in the press at the time.

  Judge Hueyo understood that the issue of jurisdictional competence had already been established by F. Suárez’s note, but he did not pass up the opportunity to tear apart the latest fabrication of this cornered military man. On page 74, he orders the following:

  With the purpose of resolving the issue of jurisdictional competence that has been established, to send an official letter to the judge currently presiding over the criminal court of the Capital asking him to demand from wherever necessary, and as a matter of urgency, authenticated copies of decree numbers 10.362, 10.363 and 10.364, as well as the date and exact time that they were in effe
ct.

  The June 14, 1956, Official Bulletin with the three decrees appears as page 82 of the file. 10.362 and 10.363, which establish and stipulate regulations for martial law, are dated June 9, without any mention of the time, and support Fernández Suárez’s version of the events. But 10.364, dated June 10, says that considering “their involvement in the military uprising that occurred one day prior . . . the following individuals are sentenced to death by execution: (RET) Colonel Alcibíades Eduardo Cortínez, (RET) Colonel Ricardo Salomón Ibazeta . . .” and goes on to list five more men from the military. Of course neither Livraga’s name, nor those of the other executed men, appear among them.

  As a result, the court rules on January 28:

  To add issue number 18.171 of the Official Bulletin, published June 14, to the investigation and, based on this document, to conclude that the National Executive Power ordering the execution of Juan Carlos Livraga does not fit the facts, as the Chief of Police asserts in his note dated the 22nd; to inform the aforementioned civil servant of said circumstance, and to request, in the event that such a decree does exist, that he report its exact number . . .

  . . . To resend the official letters cited on page 74 and to let it be known that the original text of the decrees is not of interest but rather, as a supremely urgent matter, the date and exact time of their enactment and announcement.

  From Judge Hueyo to Fernández Suárez, page 83:

  I have the pleasure of writing to you, Dear Sir, regarding the report offered by Juan Carlos Livraga. I am hereby making it known to you that your note dated the 22nd of this month states “that Juan Carlos Livraga was condemned to the death penalty by the National Executive Power’s decree number 10.364 dated June 9, 1956,” and informing the undersigned that in the aforementioned decree-law, published in Official Bulletin Number 18.171 on the 14th of last June, the name of the declarant, Livraga, does not appear; I have addressed this letter to you, Dear Sir, to inform you of the erroneous information, and request that, in the event that such a decree does exist, you report its exact number.