AND THEN THERE WERE NONE

An Informant Says The DEA Is Breaking Its Promise To Protect His Family

As the crusading editor of the nation's largest Spanish-language newspaper,
Manuel de Dios Unanue had vowed to expose the inner workings of the Cali
cartel, the world's most notorious drug ring. Cartel members lost no time
in silencing him. On March 11, 1992, a teenager in a hooded sweatshirt
walked into a Queens restaurant where de Dios was drinking a beer, calmly
put a 9mm pistol to the back of the journalist's head and fired twice.

De Dios died in a pool of his own blood.

De Dios wasn't the only one who paid dearly for unmasking the Cali cartel.
Among those convicted in the journalist's murder was Colombian drug dealer
John Harold Mena, who admitted to helping recruit the triggerman, then cut
his prison sentence by fingering the boss who hired him. Called a "premier
prosecution witness," Mena revealed valuable details of the cartel's
operation, leading to the conviction of nearly a dozen members.

In exchange for Mena's help, the Drug Enforcement Administration promised
to protect his family back in Colombia from harm. Today, however, Mena and
current and former law enforcement officials say the DEA has reneged on
that pledge-even as the cartel is apparently making good on a cruel promise
of its own.

Family Bloodshed

Since Mena first testified, five members of his family have been
murdered-execution style-and three more have been the targets of murder
attempts.

In 1994, according to court documents, Mena's uncle was shot 20 times by
unknown assailants. A month later, his aunt was shot in the head while she
walked near her home. And the following year, Mena's 77-year-old father was
killed by five gunshots to the head.

The DEA, while not commenting publicly, has said it has found no evidence
linking the killings to Mena's testimony.

Yet, following the first three murders, prosecutors said the cartel had
sent out a "hit list" of Mena's relatives-including those already
killed-and that they believed the killings were retribution for Mena's
cooperation. The DEA then allowed some relatives to enter the federal
witness protection program. But the body count continued to rise. In 1998,
Mena's cousin took a bullet in the head while he worked in the small
restaurant he owned. This summer, a group of gunmen killed a second Mena
cousin. Another of Mena's cousins narrowly escaped a kidnapping, as well as
a bomb thrown into her home. A cartel member attempted to kill a fourth
cousin before his gun jammed.

A fifth was shot outside his house but survived.

Despite the escalating violence, the DEA continues to fight Mena's tearful
request that up to 20 members of his remaining family be safeguarded,
insisting it still has no proof the slaughter has anything to do with
Mena's cooperation. But other current and former law enforcement agents say
no other conclusion can be drawn. "For the killings to be anything else,"
says one former official who worked on the case, "this would have to be the
unluckiest family in the history of drug trafficking." A senior police
official agreed, calling the murders "a message that even 10 years later we
will kill these people and we will get you."

Because talkative informants are the DEA's best tool for busting drug
cartels, insiders say they are perplexed at the agency's stand, and they're
privately taking it to task. There's no evidence that Mena's relatives are
criminals, say people familiar with the case. "They are good people, not
gangsters," says the police official.

And the cost of protecting them doesn't appear to be high. Although witness
protection can mean giving informants new identities, money, and even jobs,
Mena is asking only that the DEA supply his family with entrance documents
and airfare to the United States.

The DEA is expected to deliver its "threat assessment" on Wednesday, when
U.S. District Judge Edward Korman will rule on the fate of Mena's
relatives. Whatever he decides, Korman's ruling may come too late to repair
the DEA's reputation among those it depends on most. "It's very difficult
to make a major drug trafficking case without accomplices," says Eric
Friedberg, a former prosecutor who handled the de Dios case. "You always
see the government agents on TV saying, 'We will protect you.' That is both
what witnesses expect-and what has to happen."