l***@laoclub.zzn.com
2005-07-05 14:21:53 UTC
From reading this article, Vang Pao is history. Peace comes, and no
more fighting in Laos....They poured into Arlington High School in St. Paul that morning last
February, dressed in coats too short and too thin -- more than 100
ragged Hmong families newly arrived from a steamy refugee camp in
Thailand.
Established Hmong immigrants had catered a buffet to celebrate the new
arrivals. All week, rumors had been circulating that their leader, Gen.
Vang Pao, would be there to greet the latest refugees.
This was the kind of event Vang Pao seldom missed -- an opportunity to
welcome fellow Hmong to America, a chance to appear on stage with local
politicians and show his power.
The general's unflagging loyalty to the United States during the
Vietnam War had paved the way for hundreds of thousands of Hmong to
immigrate to America over the decades. He always took pride in greeting
them. It was even said that he cared more about the welfare of his
countrymen than about his own family. But this time, Vang Pao didn't
show.
Vang Pao's image hangs on the walls of many Hmong homes.
Joey Mcleister
Star Tribune
To long-established Hmong in the Twin Cities, it was not surprising for
him to stay away, given the cascade of events that had bruised him over
the past year.
His power base had started to die off, and Vang Pao couldn't interest
the younger generation in buying into his political network known as
Neo Hom. They were Americans now, and had no wish to contribute money
to a campaign to return to Laos.
In April 2004, the Maplewood home of Vang Pao's son, Cha Vang, had been
torched by arson. In addition, the philanthropic foundation in Vang
Pao's name was under investigation by state authorities, who were
trying to find what had happened to $500,000.
The FBI put Cha Vang under investigation and a top Hmong aide in the
St. Paul mayor's office had been tainted with a bribery allegation.
Elder veterans had broken ranks with Vang Pao.
The plan that had guided Vang Pao's life in America was falling apart.
The peace gamble
Vang Pao had been unwavering in his promise to Hmong refugees that he
would help them overthrow the Communist government of Laos and return
to their homeland. He had raised untold amounts of money -- some
estimated millions of dollars -- by collecting monthly payments from
immigrants who joined his secretive organization, Neo Hom.
But by mid-2003, his trusted adviser, attorney Steve Young, realized
that Vang Pao's dream of returning to Laos was never going to come
true. It was time for Vang Pao to create a bold new strategy, Young
thought -- a strategy based on reconciliation.
He laid out his reasons why Vang Pao should sit down with Vietnamese
Communists who still exerted great influence over Laos and attempt to
make peace. The general was willing to take the gamble.
In early November 2003, Vang Pao arrived by cab at a small hotel on the
outskirts of Amsterdam. He was accompanied by Young and Col. Ly Teng of
St. Paul, Vang Pao's brother-in-law and an ex-guerilla commander.
As they entered the hotel coffee shop, a Vietnamese man bowed to the
general. Tea was poured for him, another gesture of respect. Then came
the highest compliment: One of the Vietnamese spoke of Vang Pao's valor
and unfailing determination during the war, traits that had made him a
feared and respected foe. Vang Pao was moved, Young recalled.
For the Vietnamese, the meeting was an important opportunity to
strengthen ties to the United States as a way to help neutralize their
longtime antagonist, China. If Vang Pao agreed to throw his support to
normalizing U.S. trade relations with Laos, the Vietnamese would
pressure the Lao government to stop persecuting the Hmong who were
still hiding out in the mountains.
Vang Pao knew this about-face would be a hard sell to his supporters.
But he was willing, Young said, to take the brunt of any criticism that
followed.
They left in agreement, and with the understanding that the meeting
would never be made public.
On Nov. 23, 2003, at the Prom Center in Oakdale, Vang Pao was to unveil
his radical message. His son Cha Vang spoke instead, while Vang Pao
listened. To more than 700 Hmong and Lao gathered from all over the
world, Cha Vang laid out his father's new doctrine to get human rights
protections for the Hmong back in Laos in exchange for normalizing
trade relations with Laos. More...
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The meeting lasted six hours. Vang Pao spoke once.
"The era of killing must stop ... and allow a new era of peace,
prosperity and happiness to come to millions of people living in Laos,"
he said.
But in Young's eyes, their diplomatic effort had been sabotaged: During
the speech, Cha Vang disclosed that his father had secretly met with
the Vietnamese in Amsterdam, breaking the trust that the meeting would
not be discussed in public.
The damage was irreparable.
There would be no more meetings with the Vietnamese.
Historic break
In the Twin Cities, Vang Pao's new doctrine and the revelation that he
had met with the enemy resulted in protests and violence. Many Hmong
war veterans were not about to forgive, let alone forget, the suffering
their families had endured at the hands of the Communists. For years,
they had sacrificed their hard-earned money to Neo Hom on the faith
that Vang Pao would return them to a free Laos. And now this?
It was seen as nothing less than betrayal.
Less than four months after the Prom Center speech, St. Paul police
were called to a protest outside the office of U.S. Rep. Betty
McCollum. About 400 Hmong and Lao were rallying against Vang Pao's
proposal to normalize trade relations with Laos, a measure that
McCollum supported in Congress.
The open rebellion by the war veterans against Vang Pao was historic:
It was now acceptable to disagree publicly with the general.
The protest was the first of three increasingly violent incidents
within weeks that drew the attention of state and federal authorities
to a dangerous divide in the Hmong community.
Phil Smith, executive director of Lao Veterans of America, said he and
other advisers had urged Vang Pao not to go public with the trip to
Europe because it could be used to discredit the general among his own
followers.
"Our worst fears became true," he said.
Worse yet, Smith said, the disclosure that Vang Pao had met with the
Vietnamese emboldened the Pathet Lao in Laos. The visit backfired
tragically.
"Not only was there no cease-fire and no humanitarian effort," Smith
said, but "they installed a military operation and more [Hmong] died."
A son's secret
Smith said Vang Pao was following in his son's footsteps by meeting
with the Vietnamese.
"Cha had been going to Vietnam since 1994," Smith said. "He told me
face to face. ... I was supposed to keep it a secret. He said that he
was meeting with Vietnamese generals and that he had opened a business
in Ho Chi Minh City -- import-export, commodities.
"At the time, he was bragging to me about it. He's been working on his
father because his father was naturally suspicious of the Vietnamese
and their trustworthiness."
Smith said that Lao Veterans, who at one time supported Neo Hom with
contributions, have broken from Vang Pao in large part because there
was no accountability of how the money was spent.
And it didn't help to learn that Cha Vang, who was allegedly a
high-ranking Neo Hom official, had been meeting with their enemy.
"Cha has created a civil war in the ranks of the general's supporters,"
Smith said. "He was the top guy in terms of his father's finances,
raising money in the name of his father."
For the past several months, Cha Vang has declined interviews. But in
October 2004, he spoke at length to the Star Tribune about attacks
against his father and perceptions of corruption.
"It's hurt him ... to have someone attack us," Cha Vang said. "No one
wants to be seen as a thug, thief, a robber."
He said his family never used Neo Hom contributions for themselves. He
acknowledged that there was a perception in the Hmong community that
Vang Pao's family dealt "drugs, has a Swiss bank account and owns
four-star hotels in Southeast Asia. There's this perception that we're
rich."'
If that was the case, Cha Vang said, he wouldn't be living in
Minnesota. "I have no use to live up here in the snow," he said. "We'd
be the dumbest, rich, corrupt bastards in the world. I'd be on an
island somewhere."
Open cases
Instead of an island, he has lived in Maplewood.
Several years ago, leaders of the Vang clan in the Twin Cities bought a
brick and stucco house on a cul-de-sac, for the general to live in when
he made his frequent visits to Minnesota.
Cha Vang, his wife and three children lived there, and Vang Pao stayed
there whenever he was in town.
The night of April 24, 2004, was rainy. Cha Vang was at home playing
cards with his buddies. He was worried about how tough it would be to
play golf the next day, he told police later. His friends left about 11
p.m.
In the middle of the night, the house suddenly blazed up with fire.
Cha, his wife and three children managed to escape. By dawn, the house
was gutted.
Federal investigators ruled it arson, possibly caused by someone who
sneaked through the woods to the back of the house. No one has been
arrested.
The fire was the third in a string of violent incidents within a space
of a few weeks. Shortly after the Hmong protest at McCollum's office --
and just four days before Cha Vang's house burned -- the Maplewood home
of Xang Vang was shot up. At least three bullets pierced the living
room window shortly before midnight on April 20, 2004.
That case, too, remains unsolved.
Authorities considered the three incidents -- the protest, the
shooting, and the arson -- to be possibly related.
Cha Vang told police that he has never received direct threats.
However, "he believes his father may have," the police report stated,
"so he feels that he has been threatened indirectly."
Crashing down
In the heart of downtown St. Paul at the corner of 4th and Cedar
Streets, the high-rise Minnesota Building owned by California-based
Bridgecreek Development sits nearly empty of tenants, its future
uncertain. Cha Vang, vice president of Bridgecreek, has been working on
turning the office space into condominiums, but the project has been
stalled for months.
On the second floor, Cha Vang's youngest brother, Chi Vang, sat behind
a desk and spoke candidly about their father's personal and financial
losses. One of the first big setbacks for his father came about five
years ago, when the Lao Veterans of America detached itself from the
general under new leadership.
"In the end, everything came crashing down, the loyalty," Chi Vang
said. His father, he said, feels betrayed by the leadership of the
veterans group and what he says are lies that have been spread against
him.
Neo Hom contributions have dropped off steeply, Chi Vang said. Today,
there is barely enough money to pay rent and other bills, he said.
"Neo Hom itself cannot support the other half of the body," Chi Vang
said. "That's why we are not sending people to Laos. If we had the
money, our politics would be harder and stronger. We don't have enough
to run our operations here."
He said his father doesn't receive a government pension for fighting
under the CIA and has not applied for veterans' benefits because he
doesn't want to appear as if he's looking for government aid. The
general's living expenses are paid for by his children, he said.
Xang Vang said the general lives with his wife and other family members
and they reportedly perform piece assembly work out of their
comfortable rambler in suburban Los Angeles.
Chi Vang said his father blames himself when he reflects on why trusted
friends turned against him. "He says, 'Why couldn't I see it? Why
wasn't I able to pick up the signals?' These are ... former comrades
you ordered and trusted. He just gets mad. It's a lot of pain."
There's more than pain, however. These days, the general takes extra
precautions during his trips to Minnesota, his son said.
"He only travels with a bodyguard when he comes here," he said.
Last week, at an open house at the Center for Hmong Cultural Studies at
Concordia University in St. Paul, Vang Pao was flanked by more than a
dozen armed bodyguards. The man who had mixed so easily with his
countrymen all of his life didn't pause this time to mingle with Hmong
admirers. His bodyguards hustled him away the minute the event was
over.
Phil Smith, who once lobbied in Washington on behalf of the general,
said his client self-destructed.
Vang Pao, he said, "took a wrecking ball to his historic legacy."