Join Our Email List
Your Email Address:
 
Send Page To a Friend

Labor Court Rules in Favor of Three Security Guards

"Look! The wages you failed to pay the workmen who mowed your fields are crying out against you. The cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord Almighty." —James 5:4

>Video Interview with Tomasa

>Video Interview with Betanco

The December 4, 2006, murder of Dionisio Díaz García, who worked as a labor lawyer for the Association for a More Just Society (AJS)'s Honduran partner organization, ASJ, has not ended AJS-supported efforts to protect the labor rights of poor security guards in Honduras. The Honduran Court of Labor recently made a final ruling in favor of former Delta guards Tomasa Turcios and Juan Ramón Rivera and former Inter-Con guard Franisco Betanco. These rulings are final and cannot be appealed.

Delta Security must pay Tomasa 68,028 lempiras (US$3,580) and Juan Ramón 25,255 lempiras (US$1,329) that is has owed them for over a year.

Inter-Con appealed a July ruling calling for Francisco Betanco to be paid approximately 42,750 lempiras (US$2,250), but the court rejected the appeal. In March 2007, thanks to negotiations overseen by ASJ, Inter-Con paid Betanco 50,000 Lempiras ($2,650)! Inter-Con is one of several companies that, after having been contacted by ASJ, have been willing to conciliate labor disputes with former employees.

The fight has been long and hard, but at least for these three guards justice has been won, or is at least finally within reach.

Tomasa's Story
Over the past five years Tomasa worked as a private security guard for companies known as Alarmas de Honduras, Delta Security Services, and Seguridad Técnica de Honduras (SETECH). In reality though, the owners and managers of these three companies are the same people. In Honduras, employees who resign from their jobs are ineligible for many severance benefits they could claim if they were fired. In order to keep employees from building up pensions, every few years the owners of these private security companies forced Tomasa and all her co-workers to “quit.” Then they would rehire them under a new company name.

Tomasa's employers also routinely (and illegally) deducted the costs of uniforms and other equipment from Tomasa's pittance of a salary (only about $130 a month). They also withheld government-mandated bonuses. Once a manager confiscated Tomasa's gun, then accused Tomasa of stealing it and told her she would have to pay more than a month's salary to replace it. Many other Delta guards, including Juan Ramón Rivera, have reported similar treatment.

Tomasa reported all these abuses to ASJ, which quickly agreed to help Tomasa file a complaint with the Ministry of Labor.

Tomasa's employers, though, were none too pleased with having someone stand up to them. They harassed Tomasa, but she refused to withdraw her complaints from the Ministry of Labor. So in September 2005 Tomasa's employers forced her to quit again—this time for good.

As usual, they didn't bother to pay any of her legally mandated severance payments. They didn't appear to care that without a job or even severance pay Tomasa, who was pregnant at the time, would have a hard time meeting her own needs, let alone those of her soon-to-be-born baby.

Betanco's Story
Francisco Betanco Ríos has spent his whole adult life protecting other people. But when his former employers fired him for asking for better working conditions and refused to pay him a cent of the approximately $2,250 they owed him in severance pay, there was no one to protect him. At least, not until ASJ stepped in.

Betanco, 47, joined the Honduran military while still in his teens and spent six years there. He spent the rest of his adult life as a private security guard—until his career was cut short this past February.

For the last eight years Betanco worked for the Honduran branch of Inter-Con Security Systems, Inc., based in Pasadena, Calif. The hours were long and the management seemed always to be searching for ways to deduct a few lempiras from the guards' miserably low salaries.

One day with two hours left to go on his shift, Betanco was struck with acute symptoms resembling those associated with dengue fever. He requested to be relieved, but his boss refused. Betanco survived, but a friend, Feliciano, was not so lucky. He too fell ill and suffered through the end of his shift, but died shortly after arriving at the hospital.

Betanco had had it. Life was already hard enough trying to support seven children on his minimum-wage earnings and the little his wife made selling tortillas.

So with several other Inter-Con guards he formed the Association of Private Security Company Workers. They weren't asking for any favors—just for their employers to follow the law. “It says right in the constitution that we have freedom of association,” says Betanco.

Inter-Con, though, didn't like anyone standing up to them. They hassled Betanco and eventually fired him—on Valentine's Day 2006. To avoid paying the $2,250 in severance benefits Betanco had built up over his eight years at Inter-Con, the owners said Betanco had disobeyed orders. When he told firm managers he would pursue the case in the Ministry of Labor, “they laughed in my face and told me 'we have the Ministry of Labor bought off,'” says Betanco.

Betanco went on his own to the Ministry of Labor, but made little headway there. But one day a co-worker directed him to ASJ. ASJ labor lawyer Dionisio Díaz moved Betanco's case through the Ministry of Labor and the Labor Court, while an ASJ journalist put pressure on Inter-Con by publishing articles about their abuses on Revistazo.com.

On July 27 the Labor Court ruled that Betanco had not disobeyed any orders, and that his employers thus owed him his severance pay in full. Inter-Con, however, is appealing the decision.

Betanco’s case is not unique—43 other Inter-Con guards have made similar complaints to ASJ, as have dozens of guards from at least four other security companies.

>Video Interview with Tomasa

>Video Interview with Betanco

More Success Stories

Breaking the Cycle of Violence: Putting an End to Vigilantism
Thanks to the intervention of the AJS-supported Peace & Justice project, a band of vigilantes who brutally murdered teenage boys suspected of being involved with gangs in a poor neighborhood in Honduras was recently convicted.

While the mothers of these boys will never get their sons back, they at least can be satisfied that the men
who took their sons from them have been brought to justice, and that they will not be able to harm any more boys from poor neighborhoods. read more

Laura's Story: From Trauma to Hope
Early in the morning as she did errands for her mother, then-13-year-old Laura was accosted by three young men who beat her, raped her, and before leaving her sobbing in an alley, threatened to kill her if she told anyone what had happened. Rape and gang rape occur with disturbing frequency in Honduras' poor urban neighborhoods, but nearly all such crimes go unpunished—often because victims are too ashamed, to frightened of reprisals, and have too little trust in the police to report them.

But Laura did report the crime committed against her, and thanks to her bravery, and to the AJS-supported Peace & Justice Project, all three of her attackers have been arrested and are awaiting trial. read more

Historic Conviction in Juvenile Inmates Torture Case
One October day in 2004, four staff members of a government institution whose goal is supposedly to rehabilitate troubled youths beat several juvenile inmates with wooden clubs. They beat them so severely that one inmate, who was struck on the hands, subsequently lost all his fingernails, and another suffered fractures in his hands and one of his arms. If the AJS-supported Peace & Justice Project had not intervened, this horrible beating would have gone unpunished. read more
Increasing Security in a Precarious Place
Gerson [pronounced "Hair-son"]'s house is built on one of the few relatively flat pieces of ground in the steep, maze-like neighborhood of Villa Cristina in Tegucigalpa. But until recently, living there was in some ways just as precarious as living in nearby houses that keep an unsteady grip on sheer cliff faces.

The reason: Gerson had no legal title to the lot his home is built on. read more | watch video

"Tami"
"He even bought my entire bucket of tortillas." That's how doña Julieta* a resident of an impoverished neighborhood on the outskirts of Tegucigalpa, explains the way an AJS-supported lawyer went above and beyond the call of duty in rescuing and defending her teenage granddaughter from a kidnapper. read more | watch video

"María"
María (name changed for privacy) is just 13. By all rights she should be spending her days chatting with friends, enjoying classes and perhaps playing a prank our two with her classmates—in short, having a normal adolescence. Instead, since late November she spends most days locked in her house, scared and ashamed of what the gossipers in her small rural town will say about her: “raped.” read more

Bienvenida Carías
Getting a property title changed Bienvenida Carías' life. When Bienvenida moved to what is now the neighborhood of Flor del Campo, in Tegucigalpa, the only thing there was tall grass—and snakes. There were few neighbors and no electricity, telephone service, storm sewers, or running water. Almost the only thing Bienvenida and her six daughters did have was a dream—a dream of owning a small piece of land for themselves...read more

Yazmin Zuniga
The income Yazmin earned as a cashier at Popeye's Chicken wasn't much, but it helped her pay for classes and materials at the university, contribute part of her three younger brothers' tuition and school supplies, and supplement the meager income her mother earned working at a bakery in the lower-class neighborhood where they lived.

Things were fine for the first year and a half, but when a new manager took over Yazmin's job turned into a nightmare... read more

Felipa Mejia
Felipa is a single mother from Flores de Oriente, one of the poorest neighborhoods in Tegucigalpa. When she came to an AJS-supported Gideon Counseling Centers she suffered from anxiety about her son, who had fallen into crime and drug use.

Felipa's anxiety was so bad that she had stopped eating, and was in danger of starving herself to death. Thankfully, a friend stepped in and helped her get help at the Gideon counseling center in Nueva Suyapa...read more

Eufemia Cruz
Eufemia is one of 27 fast-food employees fired under illegal circumstances and denied legally mandated severance pay in early 2004. Some have since settled out of court for less than they are legally owed. But others, including Eufemia, have stuck with the case AJS is handling.

Eufemia is every bit as persistent as the woman in Jesus' Parable of the Persistent Widow...read more

The Association for a More Just Society (AJS) oversees and funds initiatives carried out by Honduran partner organization la Asociación para una Sociedad más Justa (ASJ). AJS is a US-registered 501(c)(3) nonprofit, so all donations to AJS are tax-deductible for US taxpayers.

home about AJS donate contact us justice club
current cases success stories about Honduras why Honduras?