Site Presented By
Sunday, Nov 22, 2009
The U.S. maintains that Fischer's radio appearances, incendiary though they may be, have absolutely nothing to do with his detention in Tokyo. They insist that it was his 90-day visa to visit Japan (a document snagged by a vigilant paper pusher in Washington, no doubt) that finally placed Fischer on their radar and set the wheels of justice in motion.
A more likely explanation is that Bobby is being proffered as a bargaining chip by Japan so that it can hold onto its very own celebrity American expatriate, a 64-year-old U.S. Army sergeant named Charles Jenkins. The North Carolina native allegedly fled to North Korea while patrolling the demilitarized zone between North and South in 1965 (Jenkins claims he was abducted). Then, after spending almost four decades as Kim Jong Il's prized mantelpiece trophy, Jenkins finally arrived in Tokyo this week, just several days after Japanese immigration officials nabbed Fischer. The timing of these two pending extradition cases is enough to give pause to even the most somnambulant Fox News viewer.
Like Fischer, Jenkins faces serious criminal charges back home. Unlike Fischer, however, Jenkins has been wanted by American officials for years. For allegedly deserting his military post, yes. But also because he made numerous anti-American propaganda films and radio broadcasts while living in Pyongyang, with a captive audience surely more receptive to propaganda than Fischer's radio listeners in the Philippines. The U.S. Army does not want to send the message during wartime that military deserters will be tolerated.
But Japan's Prime Minister Koizumi is understandably reluctant to deport Jenkins to the U.S. because he is married to Hitomi Soga, a Japanese woman who was abducted by North Korean spies in 1978. Soga was just one of hundreds of Japanese citizens kidnapped by the North Korean government over the years. Jenkins met Soga and they eventually married; the couple raised two daughters together and made their home in Pyongyang, but the family was separated two years ago when a softening of relations between North and South allowed Soga to return home as a repatriated Japanese citizen. Fearful he would be deported to the U.S. to face criminal charges for desertion if he accompanied his wife back to Japan, Jenkins remained behind with his two children.
In the process, Soga's thwarted romance with Jenkins has become a media sensation in Japan. Two weeks ago in a Jakarta hotel room the estranged family was finally reunited in Indonesia -- and it was covered live on prime-time television. (Note to Bobby: Unlike Japan, Indonesia does not have a bilateral extradition treaty with the United States.) This profound gesture of compassion was no doubt expedited when Koizumi met with Kim Jong Il during a 90-minute summit in May and agreed to inject 250,000 tons of food and $10 million worth of medical supplies and humanitarian aid into the anemic communist state. "In other words," a story in Japan Today concludes, "the Soga family reunion was orchestrated as a 'present' from Kim Jong Il to prop up Koizumi."
It was a gift-wrapped bauble that Korea was only too happy to part with. With increasing tensions between Pyongyang and Washington concerning nuclear proliferation, the tiny tyrant's attachment to Jenkins has ebbed appreciably. When the opportunity presented itself, he was glad to send Tokyo both Jenkins and the sticky matter of his unresolved deportation. And considering that Koizumi's Liberal Democratic Party did poorly in the election for parliament's upper house, held earlier this month, is it any wonder that he would try to cut a Fischer-for-Jenkins swap? Likewise, it makes perfect sense politically for the U.S. to extradite and prosecute Bobby. Suffice it to say that saving face isn't exclusively an Asian concept.
Meanwhile, media executives are gearing up for their very own version of the three-ring Milosevic trial. Those familiar with Fischer's courtroom manners know all too well that United States of America vs. Robert James Fischer will make for great theater. Before fleeing his homeland, Bobby was no stranger to litigation. In each instance, he dismissed his lawyers, convinced they were working against his best interests (i.e. they were either Jews, FBI spies, commies or some combination thereof), and represented himself, in propria persona, though none of these cases progressed past the preliminary stages. When a judge in one case set the deposition time at 10 a.m., Bobby interjected, "No, that's too early. I'll still be sleeping at 10. Make it later."
An attorney who represented Fischer for six months said Fischer is ill-equipped to function in a courtroom setting: "Bobby absolutely refuses to answer questions he doesn't want to answer, whether they're relevant or not," he says. "He's going to do it his way, and he's going to lose."
With each passing day the story just gets stranger. A posting on Fischer's Web site, written at Fischer's behest by Watai, the president of the Japanese Chess Association and Bobby's unofficial spokesperson, claims that he was "viciously attacked brutalized seriously injured and very nearly killed" while in custody at Narita. Allegedly the beefy 6-foot-2-inch Fischer put up a struggle and had to be restrained by several Japanese security guards.
The posting goes on to say that Fischer has vowed to fight the extradition and is reaching out to "friendly third countries" for political asylum because he "does not wish to return to the Jew-Controlled USA where he faces a kangaroo court" or "remain in a hostile brutal and corrupt U.S.-controlled Japan." The posting concludes, "This is a matter of life and death for Bobby. Thank you!" In an effort to secure his freedom, Fischer has even procured legal counsel, a Japanese attorney who hasn't the slightest idea what lunacy awaits him.
