Berenson: from terrorist to baker

"It was only when we had a terrorism problem [in the US] ourselves that we began to look at it differently." As a society, he says "the US has now gone as overboard in dealing with it as we once accused Peru of doing." Jett points, by way of comparison, at the way another young American terrorist, John Walker Lindh, the "American Taliban," was treated by American media and public opinion. "We rallied for Lori - we threw the book at Lindh," he points out.

Mr. Lindh was given a 20-year sentence after he pleaded guilty in 2002 to charges of aiding the Taliban and carrying a rifle and two hand grenades while fighting against the US-backed Northern Alliance in Afghanistan. Last week, his lawyers petitioned the Justice Department to reduce his sentence.

"The US had a double standard for a long time," weighs in Admiral Luis Giampietri Rojas, former commander of Peru's Navy seals and one of the embassy hostages in 1996. "If [Berenson] had done such a thing in her own country she would have gotten a much stiffer punishment."

Mark Berenson, a professor at the Montclair State University School of Business in New Jersey, is dismayed by this hardening of opinion towards his daughter - and charges the Inter-American court was influenced by this mood when it turned down her appeal. "The court capitulated to pressure that they would be soft on terrorism. We are in the middle of fighting a global war on terrorism - so, who, at this time wants to be called soft?" he asks.

Anibal Augusto Apari Sanchez, an MRTA member who was released 3 years ago after serving a 13-year sentence met Berenson in jail when he was going to the dentist, and she was on exercise hour on the prison patio. The two married soon after. He shrugs when as asked about the shift in attitude in post-9/11 world and the resurgence of terrorism in the country. He has a simpler explanation for the dwindling of interest in his wife's case: time.

"Lori worries that people think she is a monster," he says, speaking softly. "But the strange thing I found when I got out of jail was that people didn't know who she was anymore, or if they did, they weren't bothered," he says. "Life moves on. There are other problems now, more pressing ones."

Mr. Apari visits his wife once a month, taking a 15-hour bus ride in each direction from Lima to reach Huacariz, in the northern city of Cajamarca. Her parents, who have spent their life savings trying to free her, also take turns coming to visit, three times a year each. But otherwise, days are routine and dull for the American prisoner.

Berenson works 12-hour shifts in the prison bakery, making panetones, an Italian-style fruitcake popular in Peru in the Christmas season. She is becoming an expert cake decorator, her father says, and talks about studying nursing when she gets out. She would like to have a family still, he says, and "I would so much like to be a grandfather."

Reached at the bakery during the daily hour she is allowed to receive phone calls, Berenson declined to be interviewed.

"She does not want to draw attention to herself," explains Apari. "She is just getting by day by day. Being out of the spotlight is OK."

Page: 1 | 2