20/20 interview with Erickson former hostage
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20/20 interview with Erickson former hostage
There was an interview with Jason Weber on ABC's 20/20 tonight. He was one of the Erickson Aircrane hostages in Ecuador, released following the payment of a $13 million ransom. This story accompanies the TV interview. Live chat with him on the abcnews.com site on Monday 21 May @14:00 EST.
American Recalls Hostage Ordeal
By ABCNEWS.com
Jason Weber was working in Ecuador when machine gun-toting guerillas took him hostage and demanded his company pay a mind-boggling sum to buy back his freedom.
For 141 terrifying days, Jason Weber was held captive by rebel soldiers in South America. He and seven other men suffered intimidation, severe jungle heat and near starvation. One never returned.
Now Weber is back home in Gold Hill, Ore., with a new appreciation for his life, family and freedom.
But he says he can never forget his torment, never forgive his captors.
Worst Day of His Life
Weber worked as a helicopter mechanic for Erickson Air-Crane Inc., a company that hauls drilling equipment in Ecuador's oil-rich Amazon jungle. On Oct. 12, 2000, he was stationed at an oil camp 90 minutes from the Quito by helicopter.
Early that morning, a group of Colombian guerrillas stormed into Weber's camp, looking for Americans to kidnap. What followed was the worst day of Weber's life.
"I get up and answer the door," he says. "And when I do, there's a fellow standing there in a camouflage uniform holding a gun, looking at me, asking me, 'Are you American?'"
Between 15 and 20 armed bandits forced everyone in the camp to stand in an execution-style lineup.
"I thought, 'They're going to make [us] an example, they're going to kill us,'" he recalls.
The kidnappers ordered Weber and others to pack some clothes and get into the back of a truck. They drove to a nearby camp, where other hostages were also being held at gunpoint.
The rebels and their hostages then crammed into a hijacked helicopter and flew 45 minutes deeper into the jungle, landing in a clearing near the Colombian border.
Deep Into the Wilderness
Once on the ground, they continued on foot. One guerrilla led the way, hacking out a path with his machete; behind him marched the hostages, single file, each one followed by an armed rebel.
In the ensuing days, eight hostages — including Weber, four other Americans, a Chilean, an Argentine and a New Zealander — lived at gunpoint, never knowing whether their captors wanted money or blood.
When Weber's wife Lisa first heard the news of his disappearance, she laughed in disbelief.
"I had prepared myself [for], 'Your husband's dead — there was an airplane crash,' you know, accidents," she says. "I never expected to hear, 'Jason's been kidnapped.'"
Days of captivity turned into weeks. A month passed.
Weber and his fellow hostages struggled to maintain hope. They knew negotiations were ongoing and figured a deal would be struck soon.
Lisa Weber knew little about negotiations with the kidnappers until she read in a newspaper that her husband's captors had demanded a ransom of $80 million.
Watching their captors, Weber and the other hostages guessed that things had taken a turn for the worse, however.
More and more rebels were joining the caravan and the stress was palpable. At one point, a gunfight broke out among the guerrillas.
Weber says he and his fellow captives were keenly aware of the danger they faced:. "There was always a gun pointed at us — at your head, at your back, at something," says Weber.
Clinging to Hope
The hostages stayed alert and tried to keep fit, even though they were losing weight quickly.
Their meager diet consisted of a little rice and occasional sardines or fish heads. Sometimes, when the bandits shot a monkey or large rodent, the hostages were offered the skin and fat.
Weber had a notebook and wrote in it every day. At first he took notes on his location and drew maps to assist an escape or rescue efforts.
But his writing soon became a psychological link to his loved ones. As hope grew thin, he used the diary to tell his family the things he feared he might never get to say.
Though Weber says escape was constantly on his mind, there was little opportunity. And even if he could have gotten away, an escape would have left his fellow hostages in danger of reprisal from their captors.
"The problem is, you have seven other people out there that depend on you," he explains. "There just wasn't a good way to do it without hurting somebody else."
On Jan. 24, it looked as if one of the hostages would be freed as part of the ongoing negotiations. The guerrillas pointed to 54-year-old Ron Sander and said, "You're going home."
Sander gathered letters from the others to bring back home and was escorted from the camp. For the remaining seven hostages, Sander was a symbol of their hope that they too might eventually return to their families.
"It made us strong — like OK, we're going home now," Weber says.
Cruel Sacrifice
But Sander never made it home.
To push negotiations forward, the guerrillas executed him and left his body along a roadside, covered in a sheet on which they had written: "For nonpayment of ransom."
Back in Oregon, Weber's wife panicked.
"I would relate it to being like a horse in a burning barn," she says. "You don't know what to do. You don't know how to get out. You're terrified."
Lisa wanted her husband's employer to pay the ransom — whatever the price.
Sander's widow accused her late husband's employer, Helmerich and Payne, a Tulsa, Okla., oil drilling firm, of negligence for not paying ransom. Others demanded to know how the kidnappings could happen in the first place. Officials at the companies employing the hostages declined to comment.
After Sander's murder, negotiators for the American companies upped their offer and the rebels lowered theirs.
On Feb. 14, they reached an agreement: $13 million for the remaining seven hostages. Bags of $100 bills were dropped from a helicopter.
Freedom and Doubt
Finally, on March 1, the men were pointed down a trail and told to walk to their freedom.
"It was like, 'Wow, we got rid of these guys, but I hope nobody else gets us,'" Weber remembers.
The seven former hostages, bearded and thin, made it to the tiny town of Santa Rosa, where they were met by TV crews and Ecuadorean Army.
Weber couldn't wait to call his wife. "[It was] The happiest I've ever been," he says.
"I answered the phone and Jason said, 'I love you,' and I just lost it, I just started crying," says Lisa Weber.
But soon, relief turned to curiosity. Why did this happen? Was it necessary for Weber and others to spend 141 days in that jungle?
Berg Associates' Larry Johnson, a counter-terrorism director for the U.S. State Department, says security in the Ecuadorean oil fields was woefully lax.
"Frankly, I don't know how the guys that run these companies can sleep at night," he says. "It is outrageous because it was preventable."
One of the reasons terrorists target employees of private industry is because the U.S. government is unlikely to intervene.
"Unless it's an official U.S. employee," Johnson says, "Unless it involves a U.S. government entity, the U.S. government is not getting involved."
With no real threat of military involvement, Weber and the others were at the mercy of their employers' willingness to pay — a fact known all too well by Colombian criminals.
"What they recognize, is that if I grab someone who works for a private corporation who has insurance, I can get paid," ," says Johnson, "If I kidnapped a U.S. diplomat, someone with DEA, or kill someone from the U.S. military, I might get a cruise missile."
American Recalls Hostage Ordeal
By ABCNEWS.com
Jason Weber was working in Ecuador when machine gun-toting guerillas took him hostage and demanded his company pay a mind-boggling sum to buy back his freedom.
For 141 terrifying days, Jason Weber was held captive by rebel soldiers in South America. He and seven other men suffered intimidation, severe jungle heat and near starvation. One never returned.
Now Weber is back home in Gold Hill, Ore., with a new appreciation for his life, family and freedom.
But he says he can never forget his torment, never forgive his captors.
Worst Day of His Life
Weber worked as a helicopter mechanic for Erickson Air-Crane Inc., a company that hauls drilling equipment in Ecuador's oil-rich Amazon jungle. On Oct. 12, 2000, he was stationed at an oil camp 90 minutes from the Quito by helicopter.
Early that morning, a group of Colombian guerrillas stormed into Weber's camp, looking for Americans to kidnap. What followed was the worst day of Weber's life.
"I get up and answer the door," he says. "And when I do, there's a fellow standing there in a camouflage uniform holding a gun, looking at me, asking me, 'Are you American?'"
Between 15 and 20 armed bandits forced everyone in the camp to stand in an execution-style lineup.
"I thought, 'They're going to make [us] an example, they're going to kill us,'" he recalls.
The kidnappers ordered Weber and others to pack some clothes and get into the back of a truck. They drove to a nearby camp, where other hostages were also being held at gunpoint.
The rebels and their hostages then crammed into a hijacked helicopter and flew 45 minutes deeper into the jungle, landing in a clearing near the Colombian border.
Deep Into the Wilderness
Once on the ground, they continued on foot. One guerrilla led the way, hacking out a path with his machete; behind him marched the hostages, single file, each one followed by an armed rebel.
In the ensuing days, eight hostages — including Weber, four other Americans, a Chilean, an Argentine and a New Zealander — lived at gunpoint, never knowing whether their captors wanted money or blood.
When Weber's wife Lisa first heard the news of his disappearance, she laughed in disbelief.
"I had prepared myself [for], 'Your husband's dead — there was an airplane crash,' you know, accidents," she says. "I never expected to hear, 'Jason's been kidnapped.'"
Days of captivity turned into weeks. A month passed.
Weber and his fellow hostages struggled to maintain hope. They knew negotiations were ongoing and figured a deal would be struck soon.
Lisa Weber knew little about negotiations with the kidnappers until she read in a newspaper that her husband's captors had demanded a ransom of $80 million.
Watching their captors, Weber and the other hostages guessed that things had taken a turn for the worse, however.
More and more rebels were joining the caravan and the stress was palpable. At one point, a gunfight broke out among the guerrillas.
Weber says he and his fellow captives were keenly aware of the danger they faced:. "There was always a gun pointed at us — at your head, at your back, at something," says Weber.
Clinging to Hope
The hostages stayed alert and tried to keep fit, even though they were losing weight quickly.
Their meager diet consisted of a little rice and occasional sardines or fish heads. Sometimes, when the bandits shot a monkey or large rodent, the hostages were offered the skin and fat.
Weber had a notebook and wrote in it every day. At first he took notes on his location and drew maps to assist an escape or rescue efforts.
But his writing soon became a psychological link to his loved ones. As hope grew thin, he used the diary to tell his family the things he feared he might never get to say.
Though Weber says escape was constantly on his mind, there was little opportunity. And even if he could have gotten away, an escape would have left his fellow hostages in danger of reprisal from their captors.
"The problem is, you have seven other people out there that depend on you," he explains. "There just wasn't a good way to do it without hurting somebody else."
On Jan. 24, it looked as if one of the hostages would be freed as part of the ongoing negotiations. The guerrillas pointed to 54-year-old Ron Sander and said, "You're going home."
Sander gathered letters from the others to bring back home and was escorted from the camp. For the remaining seven hostages, Sander was a symbol of their hope that they too might eventually return to their families.
"It made us strong — like OK, we're going home now," Weber says.
Cruel Sacrifice
But Sander never made it home.
To push negotiations forward, the guerrillas executed him and left his body along a roadside, covered in a sheet on which they had written: "For nonpayment of ransom."
Back in Oregon, Weber's wife panicked.
"I would relate it to being like a horse in a burning barn," she says. "You don't know what to do. You don't know how to get out. You're terrified."
Lisa wanted her husband's employer to pay the ransom — whatever the price.
Sander's widow accused her late husband's employer, Helmerich and Payne, a Tulsa, Okla., oil drilling firm, of negligence for not paying ransom. Others demanded to know how the kidnappings could happen in the first place. Officials at the companies employing the hostages declined to comment.
After Sander's murder, negotiators for the American companies upped their offer and the rebels lowered theirs.
On Feb. 14, they reached an agreement: $13 million for the remaining seven hostages. Bags of $100 bills were dropped from a helicopter.
Freedom and Doubt
Finally, on March 1, the men were pointed down a trail and told to walk to their freedom.
"It was like, 'Wow, we got rid of these guys, but I hope nobody else gets us,'" Weber remembers.
The seven former hostages, bearded and thin, made it to the tiny town of Santa Rosa, where they were met by TV crews and Ecuadorean Army.
Weber couldn't wait to call his wife. "[It was] The happiest I've ever been," he says.
"I answered the phone and Jason said, 'I love you,' and I just lost it, I just started crying," says Lisa Weber.
But soon, relief turned to curiosity. Why did this happen? Was it necessary for Weber and others to spend 141 days in that jungle?
Berg Associates' Larry Johnson, a counter-terrorism director for the U.S. State Department, says security in the Ecuadorean oil fields was woefully lax.
"Frankly, I don't know how the guys that run these companies can sleep at night," he says. "It is outrageous because it was preventable."
One of the reasons terrorists target employees of private industry is because the U.S. government is unlikely to intervene.
"Unless it's an official U.S. employee," Johnson says, "Unless it involves a U.S. government entity, the U.S. government is not getting involved."
With no real threat of military involvement, Weber and the others were at the mercy of their employers' willingness to pay — a fact known all too well by Colombian criminals.
"What they recognize, is that if I grab someone who works for a private corporation who has insurance, I can get paid," ," says Johnson, "If I kidnapped a U.S. diplomat, someone with DEA, or kill someone from the U.S. military, I might get a cruise missile."
