Argentina's Fritzl

Nineteen years. That's how long it took the authorities in Mendoza, Argentina to fully investigate the more than 20 anonymous reports of sexual abuse, committed by Armando Lucero, 67.

The victim: his daughter. Now 35, she was violated, beginning at age 8. Tormented, sometimes at gun point, she was not deprived of her liberty, unlike Elisabeth Fritzl of Amstetten, Austria. But she was psychologically controlled, even in the clinic, where she delivered her seven offspring, now ages 2, 6, 11, 12, 16, 17 and 19. After every delivery, she was discharged as a "single mother" with her new baby whose father was "unknown."

The unemployed Lucero maintained a front as a good citizen in his community. He would even go the children's school to pick them up. While on the homefront, he would threaten to take them away. As a result of this climate of terror, his daughter would do little all day except watch television. She slept in the kitchen on a mattress, where it is thought that many of the violations took place. Today, she has the developmental age of a 12 year old, according to her older brother, now 37.

His sister is one of six children born to Lucero's concubine, now 56, a local justice official who chose to remain silent for 27 years. That silence broke on May 8, when after delicate talks by authorities, the justice official and her abused daughter testified against Lucero.

Years earlier, other family members had reported the sexual abuse to authorities. But each time, when social workers would arrive at the family home, they were met at the front door by the justice official, who said "nothing was going on," and that "everything was normal," according to the victim's older brother. It was this older brother who met with two legislators in the presence of three local journalists, two months ago. Their discussions added weight to the enquiry that was already underway. It was ordered by Family Court after a teacher heard a suspicious comment from one of the children, fathered by Lucero.

A confirmation followed. On May 27, results matched Lucero's DNA with all seven of the children he had with his daughter.

In all, Lucero fathered 22 children: eight with his wife, six with his concubine and seven with his daughter. He now awaits trial on charges of "sexual abuse with carnal access, aggravated by an undetermined number of times." He could serve up to 50 years in jail. His concubine, the justice official, could also face charges. For now, she is cooperating as a witness.

One person is not surprised by the unfolding drama: the woman who married Lucero when she was 13 years old. Fruit of that union were eight offspring in 10 years. But unlike the justice official, Lucero's wife was alert. "When the children were getting older, he began to approach them in a manner I did not like," she said. "I did not like how he touched them. Also he was too violent with me."

Back in the mid-1960s, Lucero worked in the city's Hotel Plaza, "But he left that job and gave it to me, I think so that he could stay longer with the children," she said. "Then I threw him out of the house. He left, leaving me with eight children, alone. I always had the sensation that he abused some of them but I could not prove it. I lost his trail until one of his sons, who he had with his new partner, appeared not long ago."

That son believes his father is ill and unaware of the damage he has caused — even to other daughters. Now living in Spain and Buenos Aires, they "were also abused by him, but were able to escape," said the son.

Lucero, too, was able to escape. When neighbours suspected that something was not right, the Lucero family would simply move to another part of the city. Thus, Armando Lucero kept hiding his dark side. He even tried hiding on the day of his arrest, when he was handcuffed and hunched over with a jacket over his head. To a peppering of questions from the press, he answered, "Yes, yes, I repent...of course...I don't want to live any longer...forgive me, forgive me for everything."

The funny thing about psychopaths is that when they're cornered, without any other means of escape, they know. They know they've done wrong. They know they have bullied. They know they have damaged. But up to that point, they are masters of evasion.

One wonders then, how many other Josef Fritzl's and Armando Lucero's go undetected? How many others keep perpetrating abuse under the blind spot of an enabling partner?

Those questions are far too complex for Lucero's new neighbours: the inmates of the Mendoza penitentiary. During recess, when Armando Lucero was brought in and placed in solitary confinement, the prisoners furiously yelled, "Hand him over to us! Hand him over to us!"

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With thanks to Clarín, Urgente24, La Voz, TL9, the BBC, Telegraph and Guanabee.

Crossing the Rubicon

Even if you drive a jalopy on the digital highway, you can still embrace an aspect of new media. The journey may be nerve-wracking, but keep in mind four guidelines. One, if you can dream it, it is likely possible. Two, there's more than one way to reach your destination. Three, you may need to test some bumpy freewares before you find the one that's best for you. Four, it's going to take time to sort things out.

Take this example. You've recorded a presentation and created a digital audio file — a feat in itself. Now you want to post it to the Web. What do you do?

Blogger, for one, only accepts image and/or video files, no stand-alone audio files. How are you going to get around this barrier? Simple. You combine audio with just one image to make a video file.

But, say, that mock video file is too large for Blogger, which has its limits. Whatcha gonna do? Well, you upload the heavyweight to an external site. That site, in turn, will generate a URL, which when posted and hyperlinked on Blogger, can be accessed by viewers. Voilà!

It is a circuitous solution, to be sure. And it's only partial. For next, you have to find a hassle-free software, plus an external site to make it all happen. The road can get bumpy.

At least, that was my experience. Exasperated, I was ready to throw in the towel, when all of a sudden, I received some help from a bedroom in Scandinavia. No, no. It was not Sven with his massage oils, you naughty reader. But rather, a boy presenting a how-to on his computer. As a videocam tracked the cursor on his monitor, "spikensbror" patiently showed us how to synch an image to a sound file, then upload the results. His presentation on YouTube made it look so easy. At last, I could solve my problem! I followed spikensbror's example, not before downloading the freeware Movie Maker for my Windows XP. In the process, I jumped another hurdle in the field of new media.

Care to have an overview of that hot field? How about making money from it? Dawn Boshcoff of BOSHmedia and president of the Professional Writers Association of Canada (Toronto chapter) discusses some good stuff here and here. And who do you think put together those photo-audio files of the presentation? Yep, the former jalopy driver that's me. There's no turning back now. I dumped the old clunker. Though the Maserati is a stretch — for now.

Waay before podcasting

Audio recordings have come a long way since my first exposure to this medium. Back in 1957, my dad tried to figure out how to operate the buttons and reels of a portable apparatus the size of two breadboxes. When he had mastered the basics, my Mom called us children to gather round. Then she asked each one of us, in turn, to speak into the microphone and tell a favourite story, or sing a song we had learned. I was eight, my brother was six, and my sister was three.

It was a time of innocence in Caracas. And not. For Venezuela was under the dictatorship of General Marcos Pérez Jiménez. Unbeknownst to us and most others, that iron-fisted rule was about to crumble.

After a military coup on January 23, 1958, Pérez Jiménez fled Caracas with an estimated $250 million, or one half the national treasury. You'd think everyone would be jubilant. Not quite. Some saw in P.J. the strong arm the country needed. And in fairness, he did more for economic growth, as well as for law and order, than did all the subsequent governing bodies. That was the good side.

After the ouster, the commander of the country's navy, Wolfgang Larrazábal, took charge in an interim government. No one knew what lay ahead. Immigrants were apprehensive. They had arrived in droves when a war-ravaged Europe could only offer chaos. With well-compensated sweat, the immigrants helped build massive projects that positioned the oil-dependent nation as the most modern in Latin America. At least for a few decades.

The majority of Venezuelans saw the flight of Peréz Jiménez as a cleansing. There had been too many years of brutish undercurrents from his police force, the dreaded National Security, dubbed Gestapo. With the change in government, hope that civic freedoms, including free speech, was restored. The widespread torture of political prisoners had ended.

As the drone of military planes over valley skies died down that afternoon, my dad wanted his sentiments known. He invited his brother-in-law to come over, even though my uncle Pedro Pablo Benedetti was more interested in business than politics. After a drink to celebrate the occasion, the two men set up the recorder for that moment in history. But only my dad took the mike. That he had an audience of one was a plus.

The audio recording remains to this day. In it, my dad revs up his political oratory to a feverish pitch, when all of a sudden, you hear two little words in the backround: "Ah pué." Translated loosely that would be, "Oh, brother." You'd think my uncle's phrase would help keep things in perspective. But oh no. Henrique Hedderich Arismendi had a visceral need to vent. He'd been victimized for too long by governments known more for the rule of thugs than the rule of law. Jailed, even, for voicing a youthful opinion on democracy. It was the dawn of a new age and he wanted that known. For posterity. Even if just for an audience of one.

Play it forward — credibly

Enough with the confusion! As a cautious adopter of new technology, I have a bunch of questions. Some get answered on the Web. Other questions get the red-carpet treatment. Meaning, they get posed to tech-savvy people I know and trust. As a result, the answers are generally accurate and normally realiable.

Can you say that about answers you find on hobby forums or social marketplaces, online? I can't. That's why I stay away — for now — from the likes of Facebook and Twitter. My reasons are simple. I like the personal. I prefer not being misinformed by those with shallow knowledge. And I believe that knowing the person, or being referred to a source you can trust, ensures better information. At worst, there are checks and balances. Call me old school.

Here's a for instance. Recently, I was frustrated. After offering a photographer-friend some post-processing on a large image, I realized I was missing a key component: how to transfer that file, back and forth, online. Sending the image of 12 megabytes by email was out of the question; it was too large. And using a file transfer protocol for uploading the file was impractical. Reason being, my FTP experience is limited, my friend didn't mention her familiarity with the protocol, and my website plan provides me with only so much space.

Was there some external storage we could each access upon registering? I searched for clues on forums related to photography. Nada. The professional ones didn't address the issue; the popular ones were full of wild goose chases from wannabes, wishing to sound well-informed. Nor was Google helpful when I inputted logical key words. Perhaps I wasn't logical enough.

Something had to be out there. But what? And where? I scratched my head some more, when ... Bing! The light bulb went off. Certain I'd get, not just any old answer, but the straight goods, I emailed a friend who teaches at RMIT University in Melbourne, Australia.

Ric Lombardo answered: "I haven't had much experience with it but a very clever IT student I met at the university union this morning, where I pick up my newspaper, told me that this [Megaupload] would be ideal for you. If you go into the site and click on the FAQ area you'll find the following information ..."

It was a timely response. With intellectual honesty, Lombardo disclosed the limits of his experience. He was able to source with precision a good answer. And he went beyond the call by pointing to FAQs related to my needs. That's quality information. No pretense. No bull. Just the goods. Right in my mailbox. Try getting that from anonymous posters on the web, hiding behind their avatars.

Consider, too: In less than 48 hours, the information from an Australian in Melbourne spanned 15 time zones, covered over 10,000 miles, and hit the nail on the head. That's a remarkable transformation in the sharing of knowledge. Yet, some things never change. Without credibility from the source, information is, and will always be, useless. The opposite is a win-win-win. For the provider, for the medium, and for the recipient — multiplied when played forward.

That's worth more to me than a 1000 'friends' on Facebook. Now go ahead. Burn me on the stake for heresy.