Ex-Marine Jon Hammar Faces Ruling on a Restricted Firearms Charge on Friday Andrew Lewis - Surfline
go to original December 20, 2012

"Surfing became a part of Jonny's therapy," his mother Olivia says. "He's told me, 'Mom, when I can't deal with anything, I get out in the water and I'm OK.'" (Courtesy of Olivia Hammar)

Lance Corporal Jon Hammar, 27, who has been jailed in the notorious Matamoros, Tamaulipas, Mexico, prison Centro de Ejecucion de Sanciones (CEDES) on dubious restricted firearm charges since August 14, 2012, will be granted a ruling on his case by a Matamoros city judge this Friday, December 21 - one month sooner than the January 17 date Mexican authorities had originally set in August. If found guilty, Hammar could face up to fifteen years in prison, without possibility for bond or early release.

Hammar's mother, Olivia Hammar, informed Surfline today of the adjusted December 21 ruling, cautiously noting that the change could be a positive step in getting her son - a Marine veteran who suffers from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder - acquitted of what appear to be incongruous claims by Mexican officials.

"As of yesterday, a Matamoros judge promised a ruling on our amparos ("protections," referring to official filings made by the Hammar's regarding noted violations of Jon Hammar's constitutional rights) by Friday," says Olivia Hammar, who is a magazine publisher in the family's hometown of Palmetto Bay, a suburb of Miami, Florida. "We don't know what that ruling will be, but our attorney is optimistic."

After completing what he was told by U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) officers was the proper paperwork for his Sears & Roebuck .410 shotgun - a low-gauge, single-shot firearm used for hunting small game - Hammar was arrested by Mexican customs officials for possession of a restricted firearm following he and McDonough's passing through the Brownsville, Texas, border crossing.

The dispute over the legality of the shotgun is centered on the gun's barrel length. Prosecutors in Matamoros claim the shotgun's 24-inch length barrel is one inch below the federal requirement of 25 inches. "Two different organizations in Mexico have two different measurements of the barrel," says Olivia. "We have a manual that says it is long enough."

In early July, Hammar and McDonough, a fellow Marine veteran, bought a dilapidated 1970s model Winnebago for $1,600 and departed from Palmetto Bay for one of surfing's most celebrated - and notoriously dangerous - adventures: they were going to drive overland through Central America to Costa Rica, where they'd spend a few months traveling, living off the land, and surfing a few secret spots Jon had come across on a previous trip to the country.

The two friends had met at the Pathway Home, a residential recovery home for veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan suffering from PTSD, located in the quiet Napa Valley town of Yountville, California. "Surfing became a part of Jonny's therapy," Olivia says. "He's told me, 'Mom, when I can't deal with anything, I get out in the water and I'm OK.'"

Surfing was even incorporated into Hammar's treatment plan. "Twice a week," says Olivia, "Jonny would drive the 100 miles from Yountville to go surfing in Santa Cruz." Following his graduation from the Pathway Home in May of 2012, Hammar, who had grown up surfing the Florida coast since age eight, introduced McDonough to surfing. The two began scheming the overland trip to Costa Rica right away.

"Jonny loved to watch both Endless Summer movies and I think that's what he had imagined when planning this trip," says Olivia. "Jon (Hammar's father) and I were totally against Jonny and Ian driving through Mexico, but after they got the RV and put all their money into fixing it up, we knew there was nothing we could say."

On August 13, Hammar and McDonough reached the border crossing at Brownsville sometime in the morning. Hammar had brought along the .410 shotgun, which was his great-grandfather's, in the hopes of using it to hunt with whilst in Costa Rica. He was, however, very adamant about taking the proper measures with both the American and Mexican authorities to ensure the gun would be legal.

According to Hammar's account to his mother, he and McDonough spoke to four CBP officers, who furnished him paperwork for registering the shotgun, which Hammar filled out and held on to give Mexican customs officials. The CBP officers mentioned that Hammar might have to pay a small fine, but no one noted that carrying such a firearm into Mexico could mean big trouble.

In regards to the alleged actions of the CBP officers, a State Department Official said in a statement to Surfline, "The U.S. Department of State's Consular's specific information for Mexico specifically states that no one should take firearms into Mexico without further obtaining a proper permit from the Mexican embassy or one of its consulates. There are also clear signs above the roads on the approaches to the land border crossings warning travelers not to take firearms or ammunition into Mexico."

Because of the shotgun, Hammar and McDonough entered the "Declaration line" as they crossed into Matamoros, and immediately notified Mexican customs officials of the firearm, its ammunition, and showed them the completed CBP paperwork. The two surfers were then asked to park the RV and step inside an office adjacent to the border checkpoint. Once inside, McDonough, who understands Spanish, didn't like what he heard. "I think they're gonna arrest us," he said to Hammar.

Hammar and McDonough were immediately transported to a holding jail in Matamoros, where they were told they would have to wait until morning to see a judge. The next afternoon, August 14, the two went before a judge who asked to whom the shotgun belonged. Hammar said it was his.

In an interview with FoxNews.com on December 18, McDonough said of his release, "[Hammar] told me to get out of Mexico as fast as I can because with both of us in jail nothing good can happen."

Though he wasn't told, nor could have known it at the time, Hammar was being transferred to CEDES, a notorious, violence-addled penitentiary ruled by Mexico's Gulf Cartel, one of the region's most dangerous crime syndicates.

The ransom phone calls began on Hammar's first night in CEDES. Around midnight on Friday, August 17, Olivia Hammar's phone rang. At that point she and her husband had been notified by the U.S. Consulate that Jon had been arrested. "[Jon, her husband] and I were scared," says Olivia, "but we were thinking we'd get him out of jail, no problem - we will pay a few thousand dollars, we thought, chew Jonny out when he got home, and then be done with this."

"Pendejo," the voice said on the line. "I have your son and I'm gonna f - k him up; I already have. You have to wire us some money."

Thinking it was just a scam at first, Olivia told the voice she'd rather call the consulate.

"The consulate can't help you," the voice said. "This is our house."

And then Hammar was put on the line. "He was breathless and I could tell he'd been roughed up," recalls Olivia, whose so-far confident voice begins to waver. "'Mom, I need you to wire the money,' Jonny said. 'I'm so sorry. I'll pay you back. You gotta do it. They will do this.'"

There were two or three more calls from the same voice that night - a Western Union account number and name was given to Olivia, but because it was the early hours of the day, she told the voice she couldn't pay until morning. "Don't hurt him," she told the voice, "or I'm not going to pay you."

In the meantime, Olivia contacted the consulate's emergency phone line. U.S. Consular officials were quickly able to get Hammar moved to an isolated storage area within CEDES, where he has remained ever since, oftentimes chained to a bunk, waiting out the harrowing days until what everyone expected to be a January 17 ruling.

"Jonny won't talk about how he's treated in there," says Olivia, who minutes before our conversation had gotten through to Hammar and told him about the new, December 21 ruling date. "He said he's not saying anything until he gets out, not even to the embassy officials or human rights inspectors that have been by to see him." Hammar didn't even say much to his father, who was able to visit him along with the family's attorney on September 14.

Several days have passed where Hammar has not received food. Guards give him scraps from others' plates. Inmates wander in and out of the storage area where Hammar is being held, offering him various deals, asking him why his parents just don't pay up. For their part, the State Department notes that, "We will continue to monitor Mr. Hammar's safety and well being throughout his detention, and continue to work with Mexican authorities to address any concerns regarding the progress of his case and treatment."

Nevertheless, Jon Hammar, unbelievably, has been thrown in yet another war zone. Olivia and Jon Hammar Sr. can only hope, and pray, that on Friday their son will come home.

"Juan Martillo", as he's known among his friends, was kind enough to provide a statement for Surfline through his mother, Olivia. True to his tremendous courage and unfaltering humor, he simply wants his fellow surfers to know that while he is a longboarder at heart, he occasionally rides a shortboard, too - his 5'8" Santa Cruz Ozzie Wright pro model proof. And when asked about his secret spots in Costa Rica, he simply says, "Tamarindo and Jaco - wink, wink."

To help bring awareness to Hammar's situation, you can sign this White House petition. His family and state legislators need 2,000 more signatures to reach the required 25,000 for a response.

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