Meanwhile, progress was slow on the Noriega problem — though matters were far from a standstill. Washington had been negotiating with the Vatican, and those negotiations continued. We had made suggestions to Monsignor Laboa about keeping Noriega's misery level as high as possible, and Laboa was cooperating. Noriega was not getting special privileges. Laboa had ordered his room's air-conditioning to be turned off, and Noriega, a vegetarian, was served the same food as everyone else. Of course, Laboa had also been a major factor in getting the women and children out.
At the same time, General Thurman was pursuing initiatives with Panama's Catholic leadership. Archbishop Marcus McGrath, the senior Catholic prelate, took a witchcraft-and-voodoo tour of the residence and "dollhouse"; and he also had laid out for him the pornography, the torture photos, and the poster listing several of the Catholic priests in Panama and Central America, with "X" s marked next to names.
Afterward, the archbishop convened a bishops' conference, resulting in a letter from the bishops to the Pope, asking for an order to release Noriega to U.S. custody.
Movement from that direction came on December 29, when the Vatican newspaper reported: "The Vatican had never intended to hinder justice by granting Noriega refuge." On New Year's Day, Monsignor Berlocco, the Vatican's expert on Central America, arrived to help Laboa with Noriega. The next day, he confided to Cisncros that he hoped for a speedy and just resolution to the problem.
About that time, I had an idea: Back at the October 3 coup, when Noriega was being held in the Comandancia, we had pretty good evidence that he'd called Miss Vicki and asked her to get hold of the troop commanders who'd come in to rescue him.
If she was useful then, why wouldn't she be useful now?
I told Downing to have Miss Vicki brought in so we could talk to her. We picked her up that night, then sat her down and told her how she could help save her lover's life.
Vicki was a very strong woman and at first refused to cooperate, but as the night wore on, she began to talk about her thirteen-year-old daughter. The girl had a mild heart condition (it required medication, but was not life-threatening). It was obvious Vicki loved the girl very much, and had somehow gotten the impression that we "had" her; we didn't tell her any different. In fact, during the night we were able to locate her daughter — and ensure her safety.
At daybreak, Miss Vicki agreed to cooperate — with the condition that we let her see her daughter. We brought the daughter in, along with clean clothing for Vicki, and then let her take a shower and have a nice breakfast with her daughter.
After that, we gave her our message for Noriega: He had only two options. One was to come out feet first. The other was to come out with dignity — wearing his general's uniform — and surrender.
In the meantime, we were setting up for her a special phone link to the Nunciatore, which of course Wayne Downing could monitor.
We gained a tremendous amount of intelligence listening to these conversations. The lady turned out to be better informed than we thought, and laid things out straight.
She led off by explaining to Noriega that his support infrastructure had totally crumbled, the people were against him, and Del Cid had surrendered. Then it got personal. She was deeply worried about him. He was trapped in a corner with very few options, and it was obvious she cared a lot about him and wanted him to stay alive.
At first, Noriega steadfastly refused to consider surrender, but as the next couple of days passed, he began to waver.
On January 1, Panamanian radio announced that a large anti-Noriega demonstration would take place the afternoon of the third on the avenue that passed the Nunciatore. The demonstration was advertised as a "show of support for U.S. actions in Panama." On January 2, we received intelligence that anti-Noriega groups might take matters into their own hands and try to "deal with Noriega" during this "friendly" demonstration.
Security was increased. Two additional infantry battalions took up positions along the demonstration route, snipers were posted on every local high-rise roof, Sheridan tanks and a battalion of military police were brought in to establish a roadblock two hundred yards from the Nunciatore (demonstrators could not pass beyond it), and an AC-130 gunship and Apache helicopters would overwatch.
The snipers were given orders to shoot anyone who fired on the demonstration, as well as any demonstrators attempting to storm the Nunciatore; but no one was to fire on the crowd without my approval.
Early on the afternoon of January 3, thousands of people marched toward the Nunciatore, beating pots and pans and waving banners proclaiming support for the United States.
As the crowd was beginning to move, Cisneros was on the way to a meeting with Downing and Monsignor Laboa in Downing's elementary school headquarters. As he drove past the demonstrators, several of them were shouting "We want Noriega!"
Many of the demonstrators knew Cisneros, and one group stopped him: "Let us have him," they called out, "and we can solve this problem very quickly."
"No," he told them. "That's not the way to go. We're much better equipped to handle the problem. Don't look for a confrontation, or you may become casualties yourselves."
Shortly, the crowd had grown to several thousand (some estimates put it at 20,000) and could be heard from the Nunciatore a mile away.
Near the Nunciatore, Cisneros and Laboa discussed the demonstration. "Do you know about Mussolini's final days?" Cisneros asked the Nuncio.
Laboa was familiar with the story. A mob had lynched the Italian dictator, then hung him upside down, naked.
"If this mob gets hold of Noriega," Cisneros continued, "they will most certainly lynch him. But if he surrenders, we will protect him."
That seemed to motivate Laboa in a way we hadn't seen before. With a very worried look on his face, he leapt up and dashed across the street to the Nunciatore. Moments later, he had a talk with Noriega. We don't know what they said, but the Nuncio surely mentioned that Noriega's countymen out there in the streets were in a killing mood.
Miss Vicki also had a talk with him at about that time. Their conversation lasted about ten minutes. "The decision is in your hands," she concluded.
The demonstration outside grew ever noisier, but remained "peaceful"; no shots were fired. Thousands were chanting, "Assassin! Assassin! No more! Down with Noriega! Out of the Nunciatore!" A Noriega mannequin in military uniform with a pineapple head was hung in effigy.
An hour before dark, a light rain began to fall and fog was moving in. At about the same time, we sent the demonstrators a message over our loudspeakers that it was time to break up and go home. And they did.
We'll probably never know who influenced Noriega more — Miss Vicki or the Nuncio. However, we were asked to bring one of Noriega's uniforms to the Nunciatore. Marc Cisneros had confiscated three uniforms from his Fort Amador office. We sent over one of these.
At 8:44 P.M. on the evening of January 3, 1990, "General" Noriega, accompanied by Father Vilanueva, another priest at the Nunciatore, and Monsignor Laboa, walked out of the gate and into the street, where Downing was waiting. Downing had never seen Noriega in person, but judging from pictures, had imagined he was a robust, roly-poly guy. That did not turn out to be the case. The man was small and shriveled-up. "Have they substituted another guy?" Downing instantly asked himself. "Did Noriega slip out the back gate?"
Downing grabbed Lieutenant Colonel "Jerry," his man in charge of security. "Make sure they're watching the rear," he said urgently. "This isn't Noriega."
Meanwhile, another Embassy official, standing beside Cisneros, remarked, "Don't worry, that's him."