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The 25-year-old American, her newlywed husband, and former Chilean diplomat Orlando Letelier were driving to work at the Institute for Policy Studies in Washington, DC when their car was bombed.
The Institute for Policy Studies on Monday welcomed a judge's homicide convictions and prison sentences for three agents of former US-backed Chilean dictator Gen. Augusto Pinochet who murdered Ronni Karpen Moffitt, one of the progressive think tank's employees, during a 1976 car bombing targeting her colleague, the exiled leftist diplomat Orlando Letelier.
Last Thursday, Chilean Judge Paola Plaza González sentenced three former agents of the Directorate of National Intelligence (DINA)—Pedro Octavio Espinoza Bravo, José Octavio Zara Holger, and Raúl Eduardo Iturriaga Neumann—to 15 years' imprisonment each for the qualified homicide of Moffitt, who was 25 at the time she was killed with her Institute for Policy Studies colleague Letelier.
There is no legal status of murder in Chile, where homicides are divided into two categories, simple and qualified (aggravated).
On the morning of September 21, 1976, Moffit, Letelier, and Michael Moffitt—Ronni's husband of four months, who also worked at IPS—were on their way to work when the Chevy Malibu in which they were traveling was blown up in Sheridan Circle on Washington, DC's Embassy Row.
Michael, who was sitting in the back seat, survived the blast and watched as Ronni staggered from the mangled car, mortally wounded in the neck, drowning in her own blood. Letelier, whose legs were blown off and torso mangled, died before an ambulance arrived.
It was the first and last time a foreign diplomat was assassinated on US soil.

“For a half century, IPS has turned this heinous act of international terrorism into a force for justice and for lifting up new human rights champions in the United States and Latin America,” IPS executive director Tope Folarin said in response to the sentences. “We are thrilled to see this huge step towards accountability for the murder of Ronni Karpen Moffitt, a young American woman whose work to improve lives in her community and her world was cut tragically short.”
Moffitt's niece, Rebecca Karpen, said that "the recent sentencing of three of the men responsible for my aunt’s murder comes 50 years after their crime was committed—17 years after the death of my grandfather, Murray Karpen, who dedicated his life to fighting for justice for his daughter, and four years after the death of her brother, my father Harry, who carried her picture in his wallet for decades after his big sister was murdered."
"It is often said that justice delayed is justice denied," Karpen added. "So many of my family members who loved Ronni never lived to see this measure of justice applied, and that is a tragedy."
"So many of my family members who loved Ronni never lived to see this measure of justice applied, and that is a tragedy."
Plaza noted that the attack was planned under the direction of then-DINA Director Gen. Manuel Contreras Sepulveda and his deputy, Pedro Octavio Espinoza Bravo, as part of "a series of attacks outside the national territory against the lives of Chilean citizens" during Operation Condor.
The secret, US-backed effort, which ran from 1975-83, saw right-wing military dictatorships in Chile, Argentina, Uruguay, Bolivia, Paraguay, Brazil, Peru, and Ecuador collaborate on an international campaign of terror in which an estimated 60,000 leftists were killed, while tens of thousands of others were arrested and tortured.
Letelier was targeted because he was once a Chilean foreign minister under former socialist President Salvador Allende and had become a prominent critic of the Pinochet dictatorship while living in exile after the US-backed 1973 coup that overthrew the democratically elected reformist government and brought Pinochet to power.
Other prominent leftists forced into exile during Pinochet's reign of terror—including former Army commander Gen. Carlos Prats and his wife Sofia Cuthbert—were assassinated during Operation Condor. In fact, Contreras and the three men convicted last week were also found guilty in 2010 of killing the couple in a 1974 car bombing in Buenos Aires.
Officials in the administration of US President Gerald Ford, including Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, knew Pinochet's government and other Condor partners were planning to murder their political opponents abroad. The State Department drafted warnings regarding the impending assassinations but withdrew them shortly before the Letelier-Moffitt killings.
In her sentencing order last week, Plaza affirmed the role of DINA Capt. Armando Fernández Larios in obtaining passports for members of the hit squad, as well as for Michael Townley, a US citizen and DINA operative who built the remote-control bomb and placed it under Letelier's driver's seat.
However, last week's convictions and sentences were solely for Espinoza, Zara, and Iturriaga—and exclusively for Moffitt's murder.
In 1993, Contreras and Espinoza were convicted in Chile for ordering and implementing Letelier's assassination. Contreras was sentenced to seven years in prison, where he died in 2015 while serving hundreds of years of cumulative sentences for Pinochet-era crimes. Espinoza was sentenced to six years behind bars.
Townley, Fernández, and five right-wing Cuban exile militants were separately convicted in the United States in connection with Letelier's assassination. Townley served just over five years before being placed in witness protection due to his cooperation with investigators. Fernández was released after seven months, due to a plea bargain. Two of the Cubans served eight years; the convictions of their three co-defendants were overturned on appeal.
All three men convicted and sentenced last week for Moffitt's murder attended the US Army School of the Americas (SOA), then located in Panama. So did Contreras and Fernández.
SOA is sometimes called the School of Assassins and the School of Coups due to its notorious graduates and their crimes, including the drug trafficking Panamanian president Manuel Noriega, Bolivian despot Hugo Banzer, Haitian death squad commander Raoul Cedras, and Argentine “Dirty War” dictator Leopoldo Galtieri
At least hundreds of war criminals from throughout the hemisphere have been trained at the SOA, whose graduates planned, ordered, committed, or covered up some of the most notorious atrocities of the era, including the Guatemalan genocide; El Mozote massacre; assassination of Archbishop Óscar Romero; Jesuit massacre; and kidnapping, rape, and murder of four US churchwomen.
Juan Pablo Letelier, the son of Orlando Letelier and a former Chilean senator, called last week's sentences "an act of justice."
"Truth has prevailed," Letelier asserted. "Many years have gone by in this effort for truth and justice. Yet, with perseverance and with conviction, we’ve reached the point where, in a Chilean court, this act of terrorism in which an American citizen was assassinated by Chile’s secret police in 1976 has finally had a case, an investigation, and a sentencing of the three main people responsible."
"We hope that US government authorities will now consider that what has been done in Chile should also be done in the US regarding the investigation and the sanctioning of those responsible for this terrorist act," he added. "There are persons who are responsible for Ronni Karpen Moffitt’s death 50 years ago who are still in liberty on US soil, and there are pending Chilean requests for their extradition with which the US government has not complied."
Chile is seeking the extradition of Fernández, who was arrested by US Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents in Florida last year but has not been handed over to Chilean authorities to stand trial.
“Justice is slow," Letelier recently wrote. "There are many families in Chile who were victims... and they want justice... Armando Fernández Larios should never have been free in the United States.”
Someday Israeli leaders will stand in The Hague for what they have done in Gaza, and they will deserve to. But if we are honest, we know US leaders belong there too.
I have met people who gave me grace in Iran, in Mexico, in Haiti, in Gaza, in Cambodia, in Vietnam. People who understood the difference between ordinary citizens and the governments that rule them. People who offered me kindness when they had every reason not to. That grace stays with me.
As a US citizen and physician, I have lived my life trying to hold onto a sense of responsibility. But what I see now, in Gaza, in Haiti, in the wake of Iraq and Afghanistan, is the full weight of what psychologists call diffusion of responsibility. It is the shrug that says: Someone else will answer for this, someone else will carry the shame.
The United States cannot keep living in that shrug. We armed, funded, and protected Israel as it has carried out the genocide of the Palestinian people. We have supplied not only weapons but coordination, intelligence, and political cover. We let the American Israel Public Affairs Committee function as the arm of a foreign government, not as a lobbying group. We looked away from the checkpoints, the administrative cruelty, the killing of children. This is our legacy.
But Gaza is not an aberration. It is a mirror held up to the long history of our interventions. We overthrew Mohammad Mossadegh, the democratically elected prime minister of Iran, in 1953, not because he was a tyrant but because he dared to nationalize oil. We turned that nation toward dictatorship and decades of repression, then had the arrogance to call it democracy. In Central America, we toppled leaders and propped up death squads. In Chile, we helped usher in the bloody reign of Augusto Pinochet, betraying yet another democratic choice in favor of authoritarian brutality.
We speak of Russian President Vladimir Putin’s murderous ways as if they are foreign to us. They are not. We have assassinated leaders. We have sanctioned extrajudicial killings, calling them “targeted strikes.” We have funded militias and trained torturers. We still carry Guantánamo on our conscience. We are not better than Putin. We are his rival and his mirror.
We should be an anti-interventionist nation, one that stops imagining itself as the builder of nations and instead takes responsibility for its own failures, its own violence, and its own complicity.
In Vietnam, we unleashed hell. Entire villages were burned to the ground. At My Lai, US soldiers slaughtered more than 500 unarmed civilians, women, children, elders. It was not an accident, not a one-off. It was part of a culture of violence we exported and excused.
And then there is the School of the Americas, now rebranded as Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation, a US military institution in Panama where we trained some of the worst dictators and death squad leaders in Latin America. The manuals we gave them were explicit: torture, execution, terror as tools of governance. We sowed horror and called it security.
Someday Israeli leaders will stand in The Hague for what they have done in Gaza, and they will deserve to. But if we are honest, we know we belong there too. For Mossadegh, for Pinochet, for Central America, for My Lai, for every extrajudicial killing and every sanctioned massacre, and most immediately for Gaza, we should be in the dock as well. We should stand in handcuffs, our heads lowered in shame, finally facing the truth of what we have unleashed in the world.
The truth is that our foreign policy has been one long history of intervention, violence, and betrayal of human dignity. We were in Haiti. We were in Iraq. We were in Afghanistan. We have left the Middle East, Latin America, and Africa littered with the bones of our experiments. Always we tell ourselves it was complicated. Always we tell ourselves we meant well. But what we meant was power, and what we left was ruin.
What reparation looks like now is not cash or aid dropped into a void. It is restoring justice. It is ending our culture of nation building and intervention, and replacing it with support for people, families, language, culture, dignity, and jurisprudence. It is standing against genocide, no matter who commits it. It is admitting that our strength lies not in military power but in whether we can build schools instead of prisons, communities instead of empires.
This is not just a populist opinion. It is a moral imperative. We should be an anti-interventionist nation, one that stops imagining itself as the builder of nations and instead takes responsibility for its own failures, its own violence, and its own complicity.
I am a doctor. My oath is to heal, to do no harm. But as a citizen, I see harm everywhere our government touches. We cannot keep pretending that this is someone else’s crime, someone else’s burden. This is ours.
The reckoning will not wait forever. The question is whether we face it with honesty now, or whether we let it destroy us later.
Sister Dianna Ortiz, a Catholic nun from New Mexico whose 1989 abduction, rape, and torture by U.S.-backed Guatemalan forces led to her becoming an outspoken peace, human rights, and anti-torture activist, died Friday in Washington, D.C. at the age of 62 after battling cancer.
"I know what it is to wait in the dark for torture, and what it is to wait in the dark for the truth. I am still waiting."
--Sister Dianna Ortiz
Ortiz--who wanted to be a nun since she was a little girl--joined the Ursuline Sisters of Mount Saint Joseph, part of a 400-year-old Roman Catholic order dedicated to the education of girls and the care of the sick and needy, when she was still a teenager. She taught kindergarten for a decade before moving to Guatemala in 1987 at the age of 28.
Years later Ortiz explained that she wanted "to teach young indigenous children to read and write... and to understand the Bible in their culture."
It was dangerous work at a dangerous time. Guatemala was ravaged by decades of civil war that followed a 1954 CIA coup deposing Jacobo Arbenz, the democratically elected progressive president. U.S.-backed right-wing military dictatorships, some of which perpetrated genocidal violence against the country's Mayan population, followed.
The 36-year civil war left over 200,000 Guatemalans dead, more than 600 villages destroyed, and countless people--mostly Mayan campesinos--displaced.
"Every family in San Miguel had people who had been tortured, disappeared, or killed," Mary Elizabeth Ballard, an Ursuline sister who had arrived in Guatemala a year before Ortiz, told the literary magazine Agni in a 1998 interview. "No family was untouched."
By early 1989 Ortiz was receiving threatening letters imploring her to leave Guatemala. She eventually did depart, traveling to the Urusline motherhouse in Kentucky. But only for a short while.
"She had a great love for the Guatemalans," explained Luisa Bickett, another Ursuline sister who worked in San Miguel.
"I heard a man's deep voice behind me: 'Hello, my love,' he said in Spanish. 'We have some things to discuss.'"
--Ortiz
Ortiz returned to Guatemala in September 1989. By the following month, she was receiving death threats. For her safety, Ortiz decided to seek refuge at Posada de Belen, a convent and religious retreat 170 miles (270 km) from San Miguel in Antigua.
On November 2, Ortiz was reading in the convent's garden when her life was forever changed. In an interview with Kerry Kennedy, she recalled that:
I heard a man's deep voice behind me: 'Hello, my love,' he said in Spanish. 'We have some things to discuss.' I turned to see the morning sunlight glinting off a gun held by a man who had threatened me once before on the street. He and his partner forced me onto a bus, then into a police car where they blindfolded me.
We came to a building and they led me down some stairs. They left me in a dark cell, where I listened to the cries of a man and woman being tortured. When the men returned, they accused me of being a guerrilla and began interrogating me. For every answer I gave them, they burned my back or my chest with cigarettes. Afterwards, they gang-raped me repeatedly.
Ortiz was then moved to another room with another woman prisoner. Some men returned with a video camera and a machete, which Ortiz thought would be used to torture her. Instead, she says she was forced to kill the other woman.
"What I remember is blood gushing, spurting like a water fountain... and my cries lost in the cries of the woman," she recalled. Her captors then threatened to release video of her attacking the woman if she refused to cooperate. Then:
I was lowered into a pit full of bodies--bodies of children, men, and women, some decapitated, all caked with blood. A few were still alive. I could hear them moaning... A stench of decay rose from the pits. Rats swarmed over the bodies... I passed out and when I came to I was lying on the ground beside the pit, rats all over me.
Ortiz said that a North American man her torturers called "Alejandro" was present during her ordeal. When he realized she was an American, he helped her get dressed and drove her away while apologizing. "He said he was... working to liberate [Guatemala] from communism," Ortiz recalled.
Darleen Chmielewski, a Franciscan nun who was one of the first people to see Ortiz after her escape, described her friend as in "a state of shock." The two women went to the home of the the Vatican representative in Guatemala City, who had offered Ortiz refuge.
"Diana wanted to take a bath," Chmielewski recalled. "I helped her wash and saw all the cigarette burns... she just cried and took baths."
Two days later, Ortiz was back in the United States. "After escaping from my torturers, I returned home to New Mexico so traumatized that I recognized no one, not even my parents," she told Kennedy. "I had virtually no memory of my life before my abduction; the only piece of my identity that remained was that I was a woman who was raped and forced to torture and murder another human being."
Ortiz also felt forced to do something unimaginable for many nuns. "I got pregnant as a result of the multiple gang rapes," she told Kennedy. "Unable to carry within me... what I could only view as a monster, I turned to someone for assistance and I destroyed that life."
"I felt I had no choice," explained Ortiz. "If I had had to grow within me what the torturers left me I would have died."
Ortiz's torment continued as she sought--and was denied--justice. U.S. embassy officials accused her of staging her abduction in a bid to thwart the George H.W. Bush administration's military aid to Guatemala. Cigarette burns--111 of them, according to a U.S. doctor who examined her--told a different story.
"The U.S. government funded, trained, and equipped the Guatemalan army's death squads--my torturers themselves."
--Ortiz
In a bizarre twist, Guatemalan officials claimed Ortiz faked her kidnapping to cover up a violent lesbian affair, a rumor subsequently spread by U.S. officials. Previously, the Reagan administration had undertaken a similar effort to discredit another Ursuline nun, Dorothy Kazel of Cleveland, Ohio, who along with three other American churchwomen was kidnapped, raped, and executed in El Salvador by U.S.-backed troops in 1980.
Even though she was back in the relative safety of the United States, Ortiz received menacing phone calls and anonymous packages, one containing a dead mouse wrapped in a Guatemalan flag. However, undaunted, she made three trips to Guatemala to testify against the government there.
Ortiz tasted victory, albeit of a largely symbolic nature, in April 1995, when a federal judge in Boston ordered Gen. Hector Gramajo, the Guatemalan defense minister who had tried to discredit Ortiz, to pay her and eight other torture victims a combined $47.5 million.
In 1996 Ortiz held a five-week fasting vigil in front of the White House, where she demanded that the U.S. government declassify all documents about human rights abuses in Guatemala since the 1954 coup. Hillary Clinton, then first lady, invited Ortiz to her office. During their meeting, Clinton did not rule out the possibility that "Alejandro" was a past or current U.S. operative.
Ortiz's relentless pursuit of justice eventually compelled the United States to declassify long-secret documents revealing details of U.S. cooperation with Guatemalan security forces before, during, and after the time of her abduction, including an admission that the U.S. embassy was in contact with members of a death squad.
The documents also showed that Gen. Gramajo had been trained in counterinsurgency tactics at the U.S. Army School of the Americas (SOA), where military and police officials from Latin American allies--many of them dictatorships--were instructed in counterinsurgency and democracy suppression using course manuals that advocated the torture and execution of civilians.
The files also proved that the U.S. was supporting Guatemalan forces guilty of perpetrating genocide. In 1999, President Bill Clinton apologized to the Guatemalan people for the U.S. role in the bloodshed, terror, and repression.
"The U.S. government funded, trained, and equipped the Guatemalan army's death squads--my torturers themselves," Ortiz later wrote. "The United States was the Guatemalan army's partner in a covert war against a small opposition force, a war the United Nations would later declare genocidal."
Ortiz's suffering left her with an acute awareness of human rights issues and a desire to work in service of those rights. In 1998 she founded Torture Abolition and Survivors Support Coalition International (TASSC), and in 2002 published The Blindfold's Eyes: My Journey from Torture to Truth. In the 2000s Ortiz was a vocal opponent of the George W. Bush's torture program in the so-called War on Terror.
Last year, she was named deputy director of Pax Christi USA, part of an international Catholic peace movement.
Recently, Ortiz worked for nuclear disarmament and led Pax Christi's work commemorating the 75th anniversary of the U.S. nuclear bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan.
As for her recovery, Ortiz wrote in The Blindfold's Eyes that despite years of therapy at Chicago's Marjorie Kovler Center for torture survivors, "no one ever fully recovers" from torture, "not the one who is tortured, and not the one who tortures."
Ortiz never not stopped searching for the whole truth of what happened to her back in 1989.
"No one ever fully recovers, not the one who is tortured, and not the one who tortures."
--Ortiz
"I demand the right to a future built on truth and justice," she told Kennedy. "My torturers were never brought to justice. It is possible that, individually, they will never be identified or apprehended. But I cannot resign myself to this fact and move on. I have a responsibility to the people of Guatemala and to the people of the world to insist on accountability where it is possible."
"I know what it is to wait in the dark for torture, and what it is to wait in the dark for the truth," said Ortiz. "I am still waiting."
Ursuline Sister Larraine Lauter was with Ortiz when she passed away on Friday. Lauter called her friend "unfailingly good."
"Dianna walked through the very worst of hell and came out with love," she told the Catholic Standard. "It's hard to believe that bad things happen to good nuns, but they do. Her legacy is for us to be nonviolent. Her legacy is a witness to nonviolence and to love in the face of evil and to redemption. That's her legacy, to teach us that that's possible."