According to multiple sources in Ethiopia’s attorney general’s office, Habtemariam went to the bathroom in a corner of the Addis Ababa federal court complex ahead of the most recent trial hearing last Thursday. He changed out of his orange prison uniform, into a set of new clothes that had been left there, and simply walked out. The police officers charged with guarding him are now under arrest, suspected of facilitating Habtemariam’s escape in return for bribes. “A drama has played out and he has walked away,” said Temesgen Lapiso, Addis Ababa attorney general director for organized and cross-border crime. “He had been attempting to bribe police officers since day one of his arrest … [They] have no understanding of the gravity of his crime and how important his imprisonment is.”After just a year in prison, Habtemariam escaped last week.
One by one, nervous witnesses sat in front of a three-judge panel. They described being promised quick passage to Europe and driven across the Sahara Desert, crossing the Libyan border before it became clear they were in for something else. Locked up with hundreds of others, they were forced to call relatives as they were beaten, or left without water, food and medical care, while the amount of money demanded got higher and higher. Some witnesses tried to avoid turning and looking at the accused men when prosecutors requested they identify them—the memories were just too painful.Victims have estimated that they extorted, held captive, and transported tens of thousands of refugees and migrants between them.
“How could we take money after watching [Goitom] rape countless women?” asked Frezgi Ataklti, 24, a witness who alleges he was also offered money not to testify. Still, he is constantly afraid now, both that there will be retribution against witnesses and that Goitom too will escape.They would shoot at those who missed shots, and the winning man would choose a woman to rape from the other’s detainees.
Between 2017 and 2020, more than 55,000 men, women and children were caught and returned to Libya. This had a direct impact on the smuggling trade there and removed most chances of escape. Smugglers began to extort refugees already under their control for more and more money—torturing them, selling them between each other, and eventually abandoning them, sometimes without even bothering to put them in boats. For refugees and migrants who have become caught up in this violent trap, Habtemariam’s escape is just another symbol that international efforts are focused at stopping European arrivals at any cost, rather than implementing a victim-centric approach.Smuggling prosecutions are notoriously imperfect and often political, with European security forces regularly accused of pursuing innocent people.In one high-profile case, farmworker Medhanie Tesfamariam Berhe spent three years locked up in Italy after he was extradited from Sudan in 2016 on charges of human smuggling. But it was a mistake: Berhe was confused for Medhanie Yehdego Mered, a man accused of overseeing the travel of 13,000 people to Europe. Even after journalists exposed the truth, Italian prosecutors doubled down, insisting they had the right person; Berhe was only released in 2019.Habtemariam’s escape is just another symbol that international efforts are focused at stopping European arrivals at any cost, rather than implementing a victim-centric approach.
A lawyer, Desta Mesfin, and a well-known musician, Tarekegn Mulu, allegedly connected to the smugglers, are also facing charges for their roles in attempted bribery. “They are trying what they can,” Lapiso said in October. “In Ethiopia there is a proverb: ‘Genzeb kale bezemay menged ale’. This means ‘If there is money, there is a way through the sky,’” a victim said. For now, Goitom remains in prison. “Seeing him again in this condition made me happy, even if I never made it to Europe,” Salih Mohamed, a 32-year-old father of three, told VICE World News shortly after he testified against his former smuggler. He had a scar on his head that he said was caused by beatings in Goitom’s warehouse. ”He used to haunt me in my dreams,” Mohamed said, but being involved in the trial made him feel enthusiastic about life again. Still, Mohamed would have preferred if the cases were prosecuted outside the country. “He has money,” Mohamed told me. “If he manages to get out of prison even after 10 or 20 years, he will not have mercy on us. He won’t let us live.”In an interview days after Habtemariam’s escape, Lapiso, the Addis Ababa attorney general director for organized and cross-border crime, said they have had no success in trying to find the smuggler. Still, he was defiant, arguing that Ethiopia shouldn’t be judged by their failure to manage this case. “Prisoners have escaped from all kinds of countries, even highly civilized nations. This incident occurred due to a failure or mistake made by a few individuals, it is not a fair analogy to question the nation’s capacity.” He said he hoped the prison and its officers would “stay alert” so Goitom didn’t get away too.In the lead-up to the trial, witnesses were pressured not to participate.
In a framed photograph of Tilahun in Tefera’s home, he is smiling, wearing a white t-shirt with his hands in his pockets and a backpack over one shoulder. “Daniel was just a kid,” said Temesgen.Tilahun had saved over $2,000 before he set out for his trip. He only told his family he was leaving on the day he said goodbye on May 6, 2017. “It takes a strong heart to attempt that journey,” his mother said, on the verge of tears.After a dangerous drive through the desert, and an initial payment much higher than expected, Tilahun ended up under the control of Habtemariam, where he was told to pay another $5,500—money his family would have to find. “The deal changed from crossing the sea to buying your life,” Temesgen remembered. After he left, the family never saw Tilahun alive again.The teenager stayed under the control of smugglers for years, even after Habtemariam reportedly left Libya for the last time. He communicated with his family via WhatsApp and Facebook, or sent messages through fellow captives. In an audio message, Tilahun told his sister that his friends had finally been released. “Please do your absolute best to make the deposit in a week, even in two days if possible,” he said. “They beat me up every single day, they punish us with food and a lot of other things, I don’t think I can take it anymore … The situation I am in right now is between life and death.” In October 2018, his family made a final payment of almost $5,000, with money raised through public radio appeals, contributions from neighbors and friends, and begging in a city market. They were promised Tilahun would cross the sea shortly afterwards, but nothing changed. Tilahun’s last messages to his sister, sent through a messaging app on July 30, 2019 read “Don’t worry about my absence, just pray for me.”While smuggling networks have representatives all along the route, from Addis Ababa to Khartoum, it is inside Libya that the most ruthless smugglers work—the ones who hold thousands of refugees and migrants in warehouses.
Eventually, word reached his family that Tilahun had died, but the information was garbled and they still don’t know how it happened. It could have been the result of drowning at sea or years of abuse and torture in the Libyan warehouse. Temesgen said the details don’t really matter, as “it won’t bring him back.” “We dearly hope that with God’s help, justice will be served,” his mother added. Before his escape, she prayed Habtemariam would be convicted and given a lengthy sentence. The family risked a lot to give evidence in the smuggling trials, but they initially said it was worth it. Temesgen was hoping for consequences. “I want the whole [smuggling] chain from top to bottom torn apart,” he said. “Every level held responsible.” Additional reporting by Lule Estifanos and Kaleab Girma. Sally Hayden's reporting in Ethiopia was funded by Journalists for Transparency, a project of Transparency International, which is working in collaboration with 100Reporters, a US-based nonprofit news organization.“I don’t think I can take it anymore … The situation I am in right now is between life and death.”