In July, Walter James Palmer traveled to Zimbabwe to kill a lion. Along with his Zimbabwean guides, he strapped an animal carcass to the back of a truck and lured what he thought was your average run-of-the-pride lion out of Hwang National Park and into Antoinette Farm, in the Gwayi Conservancy. There, he shot the lion with an arrow and tracked him for 40 hours, finally shooting him, skinning him, beheading him, and collecting his trophy. Unfortunately for him, the lion he killed was Cecil, a beloved lion in the community, at Oxford's wildlife research lab, and for visitors.
As harsh as this sounds, none of it is technically illegal, until it's realized that nobody involved--not Palmer, nor his guide, nor the owner of this farm-- had stated on their hunting quota that they were going to kill a lion. Theo Bronchorst, the guide who assisted Palmer in the hunting of Cecil, and Honest Trymore Ndlovu, owner of the land upon which Cecil the beloved lion was killed, were tried last Wednesday, July 29, and charged with "failure to prevent an illegal hunt" and failure to obtain the necessary hunting permits. They have both paid their $1,000 bail and are set to return to court sometime this week.
Now, Mr. Palmer is in hiding in the United States, facing harsh public outcry and a possible extradition back to Zimbabwe. If extradited, he'll be tried in the Zimbabwean courts for poaching, which is punishable by up to 15 years in prison. But despite his unpopularity, it is entirely possible that extradition will not occur.
In 2000, Bill Clinton signed a treaty which stated that extradition of an individual will only occur if (1) the law that's been broken is punishable by more than one year in prison and that (2) the act committed is illegal in both countries. As mentioned, poaching in Zimbabwe is punishable by up to 15 years in prison. But poaching laws in the United States are a little different, and nowhere near as strict. It is considered a misdemeanor or gross misdemeanor, and generally applies to the transportation of "trophies" rather than the actual act of killing the animal. Since Zimbabwe currently holds Cecil's remains (the said "trophies"), Palmer is not guilty of transporting the remains (across state borders, at least). Furthermore, poaching laws' maximum sentences rarely exceed a year, although the laws vary state by state.
In addition to the potential legal consequences, Palmer is getting a great deal of negative attention online. The Yelp page of his dentistry office is overflowing with negative reviews and is currently averaging 1.5 stars. One comment from Lynn T. reads, "How does it feel to watch your business die a slow, painful death, just like Cecil endured (along with the many other animals you've killed)?"
Last Tuesday, July 28, a state representative from his home state of Minnesota also expressed her displeasure, requesting an investigation by U.S. Attorney’s Office and the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to see whether any U.S. laws were violated, since the laws of the U.S. regarding poaching contrast with those of Zimbabwe.
Just what punishment Palmer, the landowner, and the guide will receive is still in question. What we do know is, the death of Cecil the lion has sparked global attention. Conservation efforts are about to get much stricter--and that's a great thing. Minnesota may finally achieve stricter poaching laws (it's currently a felony to steal $1,000 worth of lumber or goods, for example, but not to steal $5,000 worth of animals through poaching). And the international community will no longer be able to turn a blind eye to wildlife conservation, as Cecil's death has brought it to the front page of every news source.