Daily Mail

As America’s revenge for exposing its dirty secrets

Julian Assange faces ‘a living death sentence’ of 175 years in a concrete coffin cell – with a window just 4 inches wide

- By Sarah Oliver

JUST days from now, WikiLeaks boss Julian Assange could be standing shackled on a British airfield preparing to board a plane to the U.S. Once he disembarks and the soundproof­ed door of a supermax prison cell closes behind him, the man who’s made himself America’s most wanted will — finally — be silenced.

Lawyers fear the 52-year- old could be confined alone in a ‘concrete coffin’, a 12ft by 7ft chamber with a window 3ft high but just four inches wide, designed to ensure that the inmate has no view other than sky or wall. Inside it, his bed, desk and stool will be made of poured concrete too.

Under this regime, meals are passed through a slot in the door and inmates use a stainless steel sink, toilet and shower inside their cell, meaning they don’t even leave to eat or wash.

Once every 24 hours, they are allowed out for an hour to exercise in a small, individual­ly caged space, often sunken, like an empty swimming pool, to prevent them getting any sense of their bearings within the prison complex.

A 2012 class- action lawsuit brought against America’s Federal Bureau of Prisons revealed how a sentence in this sort of facility tests the sanity of the toughest inmates. They ‘interminab­ly wail, scream and bang on the walls of their cells. Some mutilate their bodies with razors, shards of glass, sharpened chicken bones, writing utensils or whatever other objects they can obtain.

‘A number swallow razor blades, nail clippers, parts of radios and television­s, broken glass and other dangerous objects.’

Security is, of course, paramount. Both prisoners and their cells, which are constantly monitored by CCTV, are searched frequently. Outside, 12ft-high walls topped with razor wire, turreted guard towers, floodlight­s, motion censors and dog patrols mean the likelihood of escape is minute.

Most notorious of all is ADX Florence, an institutio­n in Colorado nicknamed the Alcatraz of the Rockies, described by one former warden as ‘a clean version of hell’.

It was the possibilit­y of Assange being entombed there, under what are known as special administra­tive measures (solitary confinemen­t and the severest restrictio­ns), that temporaril­y halted his extraditio­n back in early 2021.

NOW it’s back on and in its endgame following two climactic days of hearings in London’s High Court this week. Two judges, Dame Victoria Sharp and Mr Justice Johnson, yesterday reserved their judgment pending further submission­s from both sides.

They are expected to rule on whether the extraditio­n, originally agreed by former Home Secretary Priti Patel in 2022, can go ahead, or whether Assange has the right to another appeal, some time next month.

If he loses, his lawyers could try to take his case to the European Court of Human Rights (ECHR). In theory, however, it would be possible for the British Government to facilitate his handover to America before the ECHR is able to order any stay on his extraditio­n.

Assange is wanted in America for trial on 17 charges under the Espionage

Act and one of conspiracy to commit computer intrusion for publishing hundreds of thousands of confidenti­al military documents and exposing multiple atrocities committed by American service people during the course of the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanista­n.

If convicted, he could face up to 175 years in prison — ‘a living death sentence’, according to his wife Stella, the mother of his two youngest children, Gabriel, six, and five-year-old Max.

‘It would be catastroph­ic,’ she said yesterday. ‘Our children are British, they are in school, their stability is here. Our contact with Julian would be severely restricted, potentiall­y to one 15-minute call once a month. He would face barbaric conditions even before trial. He will not survive extraditio­n to this kind of torture.’

It’s the first time the 1917 Act has been used against a publisher or journalist, turning the Assange case into a litmus test of Press freedom in the 21st century.

The publisher’s supporters also believe it poses serious questions about British sovereignt­y. His prosecutio­n, they say, is politicall­y motivated and should not therefore be subject to the terms of the UK- U. S. extraditio­n treaty.

Currently, Britain is only acting as jailer for the Americans, holding Assange in London’s maximum security Belmarsh prison.

He was locked up there in 2019 after spending seven years in the Ecuadorian Embassy, where he had been granted asylum by the country’s Left-wing then-president Rafael Correa. (He entered the embassy after being accused of sex crimes, including rape, by two women in Sweden.)

He denied the allegation­s, believing the bid to prosecute him in Stockholm was part of an American plot to secure an early extraditio­n. Swedish prosecutor­s dropped the case for the third time in 2019.

I was the first journalist invited into the embassy for an interview to mark his first 100 days inside.

I would return several times over the years and, when Assange and Stella wanted to reveal their engagement and the existence of their two secret sons, they asked me to break the story.

The day I met him in 2012 he was wearing an embroidere­d Ecuadorian shirt and eating a celebrator­y lunch of ceviche (raw fish cured by lime juice and chilli) with embassy staff. He likened his life to living in a space station and joked about the bookmaker Paddy Power offering odds of 100-1 on him escaping with a jetpack, like some Bond villain. But his world was already closing in.

BY THE time I went to see him ahead of the second anniversar­y of his asylum in 2014, he was clearly finding life harder. He had grown a snowy beard to help people mark the passage of time, he said, but under it he looked pale and weary.

By then his distance vision was failing, he had a chronic lung condition exacerbate­d by the permanentl­y air conditione­d atmosphere, heart problems and soaring blood pressure.

He had rigged up a blue sky lamp which shone on to his ceiling and worked on a timer. ‘Like a battery hen,’ he said. He longed to see sunshine and feel grass under his feet ‘but I can’t even keep a pot plant alive in here’.

When Metropolit­an Police officers finally dragged him out in 2019, Assange looked wild-eyed, desperate and dishevelle­d.

The extraordin­ary TV images which captured the moment were beneficial to the White House and CIA because they kept the world focused on one polarising individual, not the principles of free speech and British sovereignt­y.

He bore little resemblanc­e to the

cyber-world superstar who told me how, in a bid to stop looking so pale beneath his ice-white hair during his embassy appearance­s, he’d tried to tan his face with a UV lamp. he’d emerged beetroot and had to borrow a female friend’s make-up ‘so that I didn’t look like a Chernobyl victim’, he’d said, laughing at himself and his new and peculiar circumstan­ces.

In Belmarsh, he is locked in a nine square metres cell for up to 23 hours a day. During one cold snap, he was reduced to boiling his kettle continuous­ly to keep warm.

he has been given a ‘computer’ but without internet access and with most of its keyboard glued down. his only interactio­n with nature has been feeding breadcrumb­s to a pair of mallard ducks nesting beneath his window.

While inside, he’s suffered a stroke and got married to Stella. Apart from that, he might as well have been tasered, he’s been so incapacita­ted. During one of our early embassy interviews, I asked him how he would like to be remembered.

he said: ‘I wouldn’t. It’s more important to get things done than to be remembered for having done them.’

FOR the past five years his only achievemen­t has been to survive and now, Stella believes, the next step, extraditio­n, would kill him. America has countered global fears about inhumane treatment of Assange with diplomatic assurances that he would not be held in ADX Florence or placed in special administra­tive measures.

however, since it caveated this by saying it reserved the right to row back on these assurances, the Un’s special rapporteur on torture, Alice Jill edwards, joined Stella in speaking out in alarm from Geneva. there is no arguing with the necessity of an extraditio­n treaty between nations which are allies. But this case is about U.S. hegemony and WikiLeaks revealing hundreds of thousands of its dirty secrets. As the court heard on tuesday from Mark Summers KC, the U.S. has a track record of ‘preparedne­ss to use criminal prosecutio­ns as a means of retaliatio­n’.

It was 2010 when WikiLeaks released 700,000 documents provided by U.S. defence intelligen­ce analyst Chelsea Manning online. the material exposed war crimes, torture and assassinat­ions, including footage from the gunsight of Apache helicopter Crazy horse 1-8 which killed 11 people, civilians and journalist­s, in Baghdad in July 2007. the kill order heard on camera, ‘Light ‘em all up’, caused global outrage.

the U.S. wants a ‘supervilla­in’ locked up. But Assange is not the person who committed those crimes and it shouldn’t be him who faces the possibilit­y of life behind bars.

 ?? ?? Agonising wait: Assange and, below, the notorious ADX Florence jail in Colorado
Agonising wait: Assange and, below, the notorious ADX Florence jail in Colorado
 ?? Pictures: LIZZIE HIMMEL/SYGMA VIA GETTY IMAGES/REUTERS/PETER NICHOLLS ??
Pictures: LIZZIE HIMMEL/SYGMA VIA GETTY IMAGES/REUTERS/PETER NICHOLLS

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