DIVE LOG AUSTRALASIA FEB 2025 ISSUE 410

Doing Good Time for The Whales in Greenland Every situation provides an opportunity! By Captain Paul Watson

W hen my ship the John Paul DeJoria arrived in Nuuk, Greenland on July 21st, 2024, I knew there was a possibility that I could be flagged by the border control. My name was no longer on the Interpol Red Notice website. But I did suspect that Japan might try to ambush me somewhere, sometime, despite the fact they had been unsuccessfully trying to capture me for the last 14 years.

The judge ordered me to be sent to the Nuuk prison until August 14th. The police car made its way over a stark barren landscape of broken rocks but with a beautiful view of the sea on the right side until this Gulag looking grey concrete building came into view. Thus, I found myself in what would be my new home away from home for the next five months. As prisons go, Nuuk prison is an incredibly pleasant place. The best feature was the large, unbarred window with a panoramic view of the fjord, small bergs of ice, the mountains

With the ship alongside the fuel dock and secured, I scanned the quay for signs of trouble. It did not take long. I was only mildly surprised to see several Danish police officers stepping onto the dock. This was quite obviously not your routine clearance. I took a seat on the captain’s chair on the bridge and watched as a dozen very zealous police officers began to climb the gangway to make their way to the wheelhouse. There could only be one reason for this uniformed posse of these uniformed Danish police dudes. All twelve officers crowded into the wheelhouse; all eyes focused intently upon me. The largest officer, a very large Nordic looking dude approached me, one hand on the butt of his sidearm. “Are you Paul Watson?” He asked with a menacing voice. “Yes,” I replied. He grabbed my shirt with both hands and pulled me roughly off the chair. “I assume I’m under arrest.” I said with a slight smile. He reacted like I was resisting, interpreting my smile as being aggressive, pushing his thumbs into my chest. All he said was “yes.” “On what charge?” I asked. “You will find out.” He forced me to turn around, pulled my arms behind my back and painfully squeezed the cuffs onto my wrists. He then shoved me towards the door and onto the port bridge wing. “Do you think you have enough officers?” I joked. I was led down the gangway, shoved into one of the vans, brought to the police station and tossed into a holding cell. A few hours later, the same dozen police officers, looking very stern, escorted me into a courtroom where I had the distinct displeasure to be introduced for the first time to Mariam Khalil, the Danish prosecutor whose immediate impression struck me as being deliberately and unpleasantly hostile. Mariam colorfully described me as an armed and dangerous international fugitive. I must admit she was convincing. I was rather flattered that she had such a flamboyant opinion of me.

and on my very first day, not far offshore I saw a plume of spray and then the thrilling sight of a humpback whale lifting her tail out of the water and alongside of her a small calf emerging from the sea with a splash of joyful fun. My first thought was that some people would pay good money for a room with a whale watching view like mine. Assessing my situation, the initial outlook was moderately alarming. After 12 years, the Japanese authorities had finally managed to convince a country to detain me. Not surprised that it was Denmark, the only nation other than Japan that indulges in the annual viciously cruel massacre of defenseless dolphins. In fact, it was the dolphin killers of the Danish Faroe Islands that had alerted the Japanese government of our intended refueling stop in Nuuk, Greenland. Little did they realize what a mistake that was – for them. From day one I intended to make my incarceration into a campaign. For more updates on Paul Watson and the Captain Paul Watson Foundation, please visit paulwatsonfoundation.org

67 Divelog Australasia #410 Feb 25

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