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Turkish diplomat survived 1985 embassy siege: Amb. hurled himself ou

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  • Turkish diplomat survived 1985 embassy siege: Amb. hurled himself ou

    Ottawa Citizen, Ontario, Canada
    March 7, 2005 Monday
    Final Edition

    Turkish diplomat survived 1985 embassy siege: Ambassador hurled
    himself out window during attack

    by Nick Petter, The Ottawa Citizen

    On a cold Tuesday in March 1985, the Turkish ambassador to Canada
    threw himself out a second-storey window to escape a squad of
    terrorists armed with assault rifles and hand grenades who were
    storming his Ottawa embassy. Twenty years later, the events of that
    morning's siege are still fresh in the memories of those who were
    there.

    "It's as if it happened yesterday. I remember everything," says
    Ottawa police Const. Michel Prud'Homme, the first officer to respond
    to the embassy siege.

    What Const. Prud'-Homme did over the next four hours that day would
    earn him the Medal of Bravery and save the life of the then-Turkish
    ambassador, Coskun Kirca.

    After the attack, Mr. Kirca remained in Canada as the ambassador for
    several years before returning to Turkey, where he served in many
    high-level state posts, including foreign minister. Mr. Kirca died of
    a heart attack last Thursday in Istanbul at the age of 78. He was
    laid to rest the next day, almost exactly 20 years after his brush
    with death in Ottawa.

    On the morning of March 12, 1985, a cold rain was spitting on the
    windows of Mr. Kirca's bedroom at the Turkish Embassy in Sandy Hill.
    Out front, a security guard at the compound was about to finish his
    12-hour shift.

    It was just before 7 a.m. when the guard saw a U-Haul van backing up
    to the three-metre-high embassy wall. When the van hit the wall, its
    doors burst open and three heavily armed terrorists, members of the
    Armenian Revolutionary Army, climbed up the van and down the fence.

    "Code red, code red, they're shooting at me," the guard yelled into
    the radio in his steel-fortified guardhouse as its windows exploded
    around him. He left the guardhouse and fired four shots from his
    .38-calibre revolver. One of the three attackers returned fire with a
    12-gauge shotgun. The fatal shot hit the guard in the chest, knocking
    him off his feet.

    The three men then ran to the heavy oak front door of the embassy. In
    front of it they placed a package wired to a motorcycle battery.

    An RCMP officer later testified that this home-made bomb had blown
    open the embassy doors with such force that he found oak splinters
    embedded in a brick wall across the street.

    Ercan Kilic, 16 at the time, was asleep in the basement. He lived
    there in an apartment with his parents, who were both embassy support
    staff. Twenty years later, he still remembers the terrible violence
    of the explosion that woke him.

    "My mother woke up first and went upstairs to find out what was going
    on. She realized the embassy was being attacked when she saw one of
    the gunman," he says.

    As she hurried back to warn her family, the gunman threw a grenade
    down the stairs after her.

    "They found the grenade at the bottom of the stairs," Mr. Kilic says.

    An explosives expert with the Ottawa police testified later that the
    grenade's pin had been pulled and its fuse had burned, but it somehow
    did not explode. He also noted that it had landed next to a propane
    tank. Had it exploded, the entire embassy would have been destroyed.

    "At the time, I was in a panic. I didn't realize what was being
    thrown because of the sound of guns going off, the explosions
    everywhere," Mr. Kilic says.

    Mr. Kilic, whose English was better than that of his parents, was
    told to call for help. With the sound of heavy footsteps, screaming,
    and gunfire overhead, he ran to a phone and contacted the police.
    Several minutes later, Const. Michel Prud'Homme, then only 25, was
    first to respond.

    "I saw a person lying on the ground next to the embassy. I didn't
    know who it was at first," the officer says now, recalling the
    situation.

    Const. Prud'Homme jumped the fence, ran over the man splayed on the
    ground, and dragged him to the side of the house, out of the gunman's
    line of fire. "I was lucky, I was very lucky," he says. "Because if I
    had arrived a minute or two later, I probably would have been shot by
    the terrorists. But I didn't learn about that until later."

    He would also soon learn that the man he had helped was not the
    security guard who had been shot and killed, but the ambassador
    himself.

    Mr. Kirca, perhaps trying to escape what he believed was certain
    death at the hands of the Armenian terrorists, had thrown himself out
    the window of his second-floor bedroom. His right arm, right leg, and
    pelvis were broken in the fall.

    For almost five hours, in the cold and the pouring rain, Const.
    Prud'Homme kept Mr. Kirca hidden. "Had they known where we were, all
    they had to do was open a little window that was about six feet above
    my head and drop a grenade," the officer recalls. "They would have
    done us both in. They were there to kill him. They didn't care who
    they got in the meantime. So I would have just been collateral
    damage."

    While Const. Prud'Homme was pinned down outside, and Mr. Kilic and
    his family were trapped in the basement, the terrorists upstairs
    talked to the press and negotiated with police.

    "We are the Armenian Liberation army, and we got demands," one of the
    terrorists told a CBC Radio reporter. "We want our land back and we
    want the Turkish government to recognize the Armenian genocide in
    1915."

    The gunman had taken hostages: the ambassador's wife, his daughter,
    and a friend of his daughter's who had slept over. The friend was Mr.
    Kilic's 13-year-old sister.

    "We knew nothing about what was going on. We assumed that the
    ambassador and his family had been killed, including my sister," Mr.
    Kilic says.

    The hostages were finally released and Mr. Kirca recovered from his
    injuries at the National Defence Medical Centre.

    After returning to Turkey, some of Mr. Kirca's political opponents
    later questioned his actions of that day in March. "I saw him being
    questioned in Turkey at one point by people who asked him, 'Why did
    leave your wife and your daughter to the mercy of the terrorists?'"
    says Fazli Corman, counsellor at the Turkish Embassy in Ottawa.

    "But for most it was seen as a courageous act to save his life and
    the honour of the ambassadorship."

    Before his posting to Canada, Mr. Kirca served as Turkey's permanent
    delegate to NATO, and then the United Nations.

    Mr. Kirca left politics on Dec. 5, 1995, when he resigned from prime
    minister Tansu Ciller's cabinet after participating in an
    unsuccessful bid to postpone an election. It was then that he began
    writing an influential column for a centre-right Turkish newspaper,
    Aksam. As a foreign policy analyst, he was known for his hawkish
    positions.

    Mr. Kirca warned his government that if it was not careful, it could
    lose control of some territory to separatist movements in Cyprus and
    southeastern Turkey. He also supported the policies of U.S. President
    George W. Bush in the region, writing that "Turkey should not
    disappoint its main ally, the United States."

    His hardline stance on Turkey's conflict with Greece over Cyprus made
    news in 1999, when the Turkish press found out that his daughter,
    Selcan, had married Dimitri Papadopulos in 1998, the son of a retired
    Greek air force general.

    Mr. Corman says Mr. Kirca will be remembered above all for the ordeal
    he endured in Ottawa in 1985. Although attacks on Turkish ambassadors
    were not uncommon between 1973 and 1986, the siege of Mr. Kirca's
    embassy was headlined in all the Turkish papers.

    The events of that day, says Mr. Corman, remain vivid to the members
    of the Turkish Foreign Service, particularly to him. "My window looks
    out onto the Rideau River. It's the same window Ambassador Kirca
    threw himself out of."

    In 2004, Canada became one of the few countries to formally recognize
    as genocide the deportation and subsequent death of as many as 1.5
    million Armenians at the hands of the Turkish military after the
    First World War.

    Armenia has been independent since the breakup of the Soviet Union in
    1992, and the Armenian Revolutionary Army has not committed an act of
    terrorism since 1986.

    The three gunmen -- Kevork Marachelian, Ohannes Noubarian and Raffi
    Panof Titizian -- were sentenced to 25 years in prison without
    parole.

    "I'm not sure how many of them are still in jail," says Mr. Corman.
    "We tried to get the information two years ago, by writing diplomatic
    notes, but we didn't receive anything out of it.

    "It should be a diplomatic nicety to tell us. But we won't press
    ahead, because then it looks as if we are trying to get involved in
    the local affairs of Canada."

    The National Parole Board decided last month to allow one of the men,
    Mr. Marachelian, to visit his family for the first time in 20 years.
    The board granted him two visits over the next six months, during
    which he must be accompanied by a corrections officer.

    "We do not feel any animosity against these people," says Mr. Corman.
    "We don't want to track them or make life difficult for them. We just
    wanted them to face justice."

    If the attack of 1985 happened today, it would probably be handled
    differently.

    Before 1985, foreign diplomats in Canada had long complained about
    the lax security provided to the embassies in Ottawa.

    After the attack, prime minister Brian Mulroney's Conservative
    government moved quickly to review Canada's counter-terrorism
    capabilities. The review led eventually to the creation of Canada's
    top-secret commando unit, Joint Task Force Two.

    GRAPHIC:
    Colour Photo: Coskun Kirca died of a heart attack last Thursday in
    Istanbul at the age of 78.;
    Colour Photo: Paul Latour, The Ottawa Citizen; Medics treat Turkish
    ambassador Coskun Kirca after the diplomat jumped from a
    second-storey window during a terrorist attack on the embassy March
    12, 1985, in Ottawa.;
    Photo: Fred Chartrand, The Canadian Press; Members of the Ottawa
    police tactical squad take a suspect into custody during the 1985
    embassy siege.;
    Photo: Brigitte Bouvier, The Ottawa Citizen; Const. Michel Prud'Homme
    was awarded the Medal of Bravery for saving Turkish ambassador Coskun
    Kirca on March 12, 1985.
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