Canadian reporter claims he was denied entry to VI
The story was published by The Star, www.thestar.com, on Monday April 4, 2016 and, according to the reporter, Marco Chown Oved, he was working on a story as to whether reforms to combat tax evasion were working.
According to Oved, once he declared to immigration authorities he was a journalist, he was detained at the Terrance B. Lettsome International Airport at Beef Island and put on the first plane out. He was also allegedly told he needed a work permit to carry out his stated business.
The reporter highlighted that he did not understand why he was denied entry into the VI despite him being very open about what was his assignment in the VI and wanted to know what the territory had to hide.
Meanwhile, the Governor’s Office confirmed that Mr Oved had a scheduled interview with the Governor and that he had informed the Governor’s Office he had been refused entry to the VI.
“I can confirm that Mr Oved did have an interview with the Governor. Mr Oved emailed me himself to tell me he had not been approved to enter,” Policy Officer in the Governor’s Office, Maria Mays stated today, April 5, 2016.
Acting Chief Immigration Officer Mr Ian B. Penn declined to comment on the issue when contacted by Virgin Islands News Online.
See story below as published by The Star.
Why a Star reporter was denied entry to British Virgin Islands
By Marco Chown Oved Staff Reporter, Published on Mon Apr 04 2016
For an island that claims to be a major Caribbean tourist destination, it’s sure hard to get to the British Virgin Islands.
The airstrip on the principal island of Tortola is so short that big planes can’t land, forcing visitors to fly to Puerto Rico and switch to a small 10-seat Cessna for the final 40-minute hop.
I climbed aboard along with a British banker and his family and was instructed to sit in the co-pilot’s seat next to Danielle, our captain. When Danielle held open the window with one hand and manoeuvred the plane onto the runway with the other, I knew this wasn’t going to be a typical trip.
As we took off, I rehearsed what I would say at the border. While the BVI doesn’t require visas from Canadians, as soon as I said I was a journalist, I was told I would need a permit. No one could tell me which one, however.
Weeks before, after securing an interview with the islands’ British-appointed governor, I was instructed to obtain a film permit, even though I wouldn’t be filming. When I submitted my application, they told me I didn’t need one. Instead, I should get a work permit. But the work permit couldn’t be issued without a film permit. And around and around it went.
After a bumpy flight, we entered a nearly deserted terminal and the lone immigration officer asked me what I had come to do.
“Interview the governor,” I replied.
He glanced up and peeled back the corner of his desktop calendar like a poker player looking at his cards. Head moving back and forth, he compared my passport to whatever was underneath before ushering me into an office with shabby wooden furniture and a broken air conditioner.
“Wait here,” he said and locked the door behind him.
After weeks of phone calls, I had determined that no one in the BVI was interested in talking.
Neither the premier, the minister of finance, nor the head of the financial regulation body would agree to meet me. The director of the business college balked at a sit-down interview. The head of a major law firm declined an off-the-record chat through her assistant.
This is a place that doesn’t tolerate scrutiny. In 2013, shortly after the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists (ICIJ) published a leak of documents showing that anonymous BVI companies were being used by government officials from around the world, a French reporter with Le Monde witnessed a high school teacher instruct her class about the threat posed by journalists.
“ICIJ has caused us a lot of harm,” she told the students. “We have to defend ourselves. Otherwise we will lose our jobs and our income.”
During the same trip, BVI’s first lady, Lorna Smith, walked out of an interview as soon as she discovered the reporter, Anne Michel, was collaborating with the ICIJ.
Knowing this, I didn’t mention the ICIJ. I approached local officials sympathetically, saying I wanted to present their side of the story, to understand how their country had been affected by the negative attention. I knew they were hesitant; I didn’t know they were hostile.
A tall woman entered the office and introduced herself as Officer Robertson, head of immigration. I explained that I had an appointment with the governor and had submitted the necessary paperwork. She picked up the phone, spoke for a minute, then said: “We have no trace of you.”
I asked her to call the governor’s office. No can do. I pulled out all the official letters, documents and itineraries I had submitted and offered to show her the emails from the governor’s assistant. Nothing would make her budge.
“I cannot admit you,” she said. “No one is allowed to work in the BVI without a work permit.”
I protested that many journalists had been admitted without permits. I argued that I was being transparent and had nothing to hide. If she made it impossible to enter the country openly as a journalist, future reporters would be forced to sneak in posing as tourists. She was unmoved.
(An Australian documentary film crew, another media partner in the ICIJ investigation and set to arrive days after me, didn’t board their flight after hearing of my experience. Instead, they chartered a yacht and arrived claiming to be tourists. Immigration interrogated them for an hour and eventually allowed them in, but they were only able to film with a secret camera.)
In a last-ditch effort, I suggested Robertson might get in trouble for sending away someone who had been invited by the head of state. She smiled and simply said: “The governor will be informed.”
The next plane landed barely an hour after I arrived. A group of South African musicians sauntered through in their Ray Bans and Yankees caps and had their passports stamped immediately. Officer Robertson informed me that the plane was returning empty to Puerto Rico and I was quickly bundled aboard. In total, I spent one hour and five minutes in the BVI.
In San Juan, the American border guard laughed when I told him my story.
“They wouldn’t let in a journalist? What are they afraid of?” he asked.
That’s a good question, I said.
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42 Responses to “Canadian reporter claims he was denied entry to VI”
Let him skate his @$$ somewhere else with this wild goose chase bull$h*t.
explain. Including their treatment of American customers. Toronto should look itself in the mirror.
refuse to do business with Canadians? See the point? Canadian companies own a lot of bank branches in the
Caribbean, who have some rather peculiar and lopsided behaviour. Be it towards American nationals, BVI citizens
or anyone for that matter. And if Canadians don't like the Americans, they can stop going to the US and also stop
using US money. And just stay at home in Canada with their Canadian banks.
from england and we had drinks together in the bar car and liked each other and were going to spend some time in
her sleeper compartment. the bartender was a canadian fellow and he liked her too, but we were tourists. so he
tried to have me thrown off the train 'cause he wanted to sleep with her. that didn't work, and if i were older and
more experienced, i would've thrown him off the train. just to show that canadians have their peculiar etiquette too.
they get that from france, one of canada's founders. great wine, fine art - bad behaviour.
http://www.msn.com/en-gb/news/world/revealed-the-dollar2bn-offshore-trail-that-leads-to-vladimir-putin/ar-BBrj9ks?li=BBoPRmx
send he r@$s home yes only hear to make mischief
US government inclusive of the CIA is behind all of this - to do what they usually do - destabilize another country
for the US's own gain of valuables or people's privacy. And of course to CONTROL everything everywhere. See
how the media also are proud to violate people's rights and privacy. It is filth.