WASHINGTON (CNN) -- The Inter-American Court of Human Rights has been asked to investigate whether Panama tortured an Ecuadorian citizen who was being held as an illegal immigrant, an official hemispheric human rights organization said.

Jesus Tranquilino Velez Loor was arrested November 11, 2002, and deported to Ecuador on September 10, 2003. During that time, he was held without receiving procedural guarantees, the right to be heard and the right to present a defense, said the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights.

"The case also involves the lack of investigation of complaints of torture presented by Mr. Velez Loor before the Panamanian authorities, as well as the inhumane conditions of detention under which he was held in several Panamanian penitentiaries," the human rights commission said in a release Tuesday.

The human rights panel, which is part of the 35-nation Organization of American States, said it referred the case to the court last week because Panama did not adopt sufficient measures to address issues raised in a previous commission report.

Velez Loor "was sentenced to a prison term for having repeatedly entered Panama illegally. ... Panamanian law provides that foreign nationals, who repeatedly enter Panama, without the necessary papers, will be imprisoned for two years and then deported," Panama said in a 2006 report.

Velez Loor admitted he had gone into Panama without proper papers or visas.

The commission said it received an e-mailed complaint from Velez Loor on February 10, 2004, "in which he claims to have undergone torture, forced isolation, and mistreatment at the hands of Panamanian police officers at two Panamanian detention centers without being given the opportunity to defend himself, without the benefit of any court of law, without being allowed to make a telephone call and while being deprived of all medical care."

Panama denied those allegations in the 2006 human rights commission report.

Officials at the Panamanian embassy in Washington did not return a telephone request Tuesday from CNN for comment on the latest development.

The human rights commission consists of seven members who act in a personal capacity, without representing any country, and who are elected by the OAS General Assembly.

MEDELLIN, Colombia (CNN) -- This city's drug underworld is littered with "poseurs" -- lowlife triggermen pretending they're the real hard cases. But a longstanding and trusted source, with intimate knowledge of Medellin's violent subculture, assured me the two men I was about to meet were the real deal. My destination: a single-story home in the city's notorious "Commune 13" district where I had set up a meeting with two hit men, who have for years hired their lethal services out to the cocaine cartels. Inside the house, a man called "Red" sat on a couch toying a fully loaded 9mm Ruger pistol. "This will stop somebody nicely," he said, as I glanced at it. His face and arms were covered in burn marks. He said it was a testament of the day a barrel of acid spilled onto him as he was working in a clandestine cocaine processing lab in northern Colombia. Red explained that after the accident, the lab foreman tossed him out, half-dead, into a jungle clearing. What little strength he had left, he said he used to bat away vultures. And, against the odds, he made his way to safety and slowly recovered. When Red left the clinic months later, he said he went straight back to the drug lab and gunned down the foreman and three of his henchmen. That wasn't his first killing though, he told me. When he was just 11 years old, Red recounted, he took a razor to the throat of a neighborhood drug pusher who had been molesting his little sister. The other man, "C", sat quietly as I listened to Red. Like Red, my source told me, "C" was also the so-called "chief" of a number of neighborhoods -- running local drug-peddling operations, extortion rackets and organizing hits for a big cartel boss he simply referred to as "El Cucho," or "The Old Man." Don't Miss * Power vacuum fuels vicious drug war It was a hot morning and he was shirtless. His chest was branded with a tattoo of the Virgin Maria Auxilatrix, known in Colombia as the "Virgin of the Assassins." Hitmen, or "sicarios" as they call them here, revere her and pray to her for protection against arrest or death and for help to carry out their killings. During our time with the hit men they offered a fascinating insight into their violent world -- from how much they get paid to what their mothers think of their lifestyle: Penhaul: Why are Medellin's drug bosses and the street gangs in a war right now? "RED": "These problems come about because they're looking for a good man to run things. We have to find him and, in order to find him, what's happening right now has to run its course." "C": "Medellin has exploded right now because different groups want to control it and earn money and gain territory. The authorities locked up, extradited, or cut cooperation deals with the big guys, the ones who controlled all this. Those were the ones people respected. Now there's no respect and anybody who has a bunch of money is grabbing a few kids from a poor neighborhood and putting them to work." Penhaul: What are the cartel bosses paying for a contract killing now? "C": "If you're talking about a contract hit then right now you can get four or five million pesos (between US$2,000 and $2,500) to kill some idiot slimeball. Then of course there are bigger hits where you can earn 15 (million) or 20 million (between $7,500 and $10,000). Some of those hits pay pretty well. There's a lot of people around here with a lot of money and they're using it for bad things. Sometimes even the politicians will pay for a hit to get somebody out of their way." Penhaul: Why did you get into this lifestyle? "Red": "People need to eat and there's a lot of hunger. We don't just want the crumbs. That's the big problem. There's a lot of idle hands around here and many people think they have a chance if they have a gun in their hand." "C": "I grew up in a slum and every time I stepped outside the door there were guys from the local gang smoking (marijuana) joints. They had guns, the best motorbikes and money so I started running errands for them." Penhaul: Didn't you have any big dreams when you were kids? "Red": "I always said when I grow up I would build a house for my old lady with a cement roof and plaster and paint on the walls. I dreamed I'd be able to give her money to go to the supermarket every week." "C": "I dreamed of being a professional soccer player. I was pretty good. But I never got the chance." Penhaul: Do you think you've made your mothers proud by killing people? "Red": "I once gave my mum a wad of cash after I did a job. She took the wad and slapped me in the face and told me not to bring that cursed money into the house. She begged me to get out of that life. She was afraid they would kill me." "C": "My mum knows nothing about this. I guess she imagines because she tells me to take care otherwise I'll wind up dead. But she doesn't know for sure." Penhaul: What did your first contract hit feel like? "Red": "You kill the first one and you panic for a few days. You're nervous. But then you kill the second one and that's a kind of a medicine. It takes the pain away that you were feeling after the first killing." "C": "The first time is really f***ed up. I nearly went mad. You see a cop and think he's going to arrest you. I was 16 or 17. That was my first time. I hardly even wanted to eat. But then you carry on and kill this one and that one. You earn money. After I killed somebody the first time I bought my first decent pair of sneakers. "It's not so tough now. Sometimes you kill somebody and you know they were going to kill you. It's not a question of conscience. It's a question of kill or be killed." Penhaul: Don't you feel any remorse? "C": You know you messed up when you go to the wake and see people crying and you know it's your fault. But I don't back down from a killing because I know if somebody comes after me they won't back down." "Red": "I've got feelings and sometimes you sit down and think what a shame. But the person who's trying to shoot you isn't going to think the same. You're not killing somebody for the fun of it. If you don't mark your territory then you're a nobody." Penhaul: So, apart from the money, why do you do it? "C": "To gain respect round here you have to be a mother f***er. You've got to be a bastard so people respect you. If you're quiet and respectful everybody takes advantage. But if they know you're a mother f***er who'll bust their ass at the first sign of trouble then they respect you and your family." Penhaul: Are you killing innocent people? "C": "I never kill somebody who doesn't deserve it. Sometimes I'll hunt down a "patient" for a week just so that I don't make any mistakes. You can't go and kill somebody just because you want to. You have to ask for permission from the big guys who control us. You explain to the "old man" and he gives the final word." Penhaul: Are you ever on the receiving end of bullets? "Red": "They once shot me four times at point blank range. I heard them laughing as they walked away and one came back and kicked me in the head for good measure. When I got better he was the first one I killed. I've been shot 17 times. Well let's call it 19 if you count the ones that just graze you. They say some bodies have divine protection. Let's hope mine is one of them." Penhaul: Why don't normal citizens just turn you in? Because they're afraid? "C": "The community collaborates with us. We give them food parcels and we throw parties for them and give toys to the kids. We don't mistreat everybody, just the ones who deserve it. We don't kill innocent people." Penhaul: Do you want to get out of this life? "C": "I know you should pay what you owe. But I don't want to pay for all those deaths. I'll be absolutely f***ed if I have to pay. I want to get out of this but I want a clean slate. If I pay my debt to the law then that means jail and if I pay on the street then that means death. I don't want to go to jail or to die." advertisement Penhaul: Do you see any quick end to the current cartel violence in Medellin? "C": "We've survived one war, then another and now this one. I can't see it all ending. I don't think that will happen. If you kill two or three people there's four or five more behind him who want to kill you."

Now begins another chapter in Schuett's 19-year quest for justice.

Standing in front of the television cameras, Jennifer Schuett blinked back tears.

"This is a huge day for me," she later told CNN over the phone. "And I want to see this through the end. The rest will come out during the trial."

Schuett, 27, joined a multi-agency team of investigators in her hometown of Dickinson, Texas, as they announced the arrest earlier in the day of Dennis Earl Bradford, a 40-year-old welder, in Little Rock, Arkansas.

The arrest came after new DNA testing and other evidence made it possible to identify Bradford as the suspect.

Schuett's boyfriend and two police investigators who kept the case alive stood beside her. Fighting tears, she thanked them for their support.

"Throughout this journey, I've had two main goals," she said. "And they were to find the man who kidnapped, sexually assaulted and attempted to murder me 19 years ago so that he could not hurt anyone else. And to use my voice in telling my story to as many people as I possibly could over the years in hopes that I may encourage other victims of violent crimes to stand up and speak out against criminals." Video Watch Schuett explain why she's speaking out »

She continued, "Today, I can say very proudly that I have accomplished both of these goals."

Schuett spoke with CNN two weeks ago about her 1990 ordeal. CNN normally does not identify victims of sexual assaults. But Schuett decided to go public with her story and her name to increase the chances of finding and prosecuting her attacker.

Schuett was in her bed when a man crept in through a window on August 10, 1990. She remembers waking up in a stranger's arms as he carried her across a dark parking lot. She said he told her he was an undercover cop and knew her family.

He drove her through the streets of Dickinson, pulling into an overgrown field where, she said, he sexually assaulted her.

She passed out. When she regained consciousness, she was lying on top of an ant hill with her throat slashed and her voice box torn. She spent about 14 hours in the field before she was found and rushed to the hospital in critical condition.

"Three days after the attack, I started giving a description. The doctors told me I would never be able to talk again, but I proved them all wrong," Schuett said. She believes she got her voice back so she could tell her story.

At the news conference, a driver's license photo of the suspect was shown next to the 1990 sketch based on her description. There was a clear resemblance.

Shauna Dunlap, a spokeswoman for the FBI's Houston office, said Bradford lived in North Little Rock, with his wife and two children -- a boy, 12, and a girl, 15. He also has three adult stepchildren.

Bradford worked as a welder for United Fence in North Little Rock. A company representative said Bradford had been working there for 10 years and was a "good guy" who had mended "his old ways" and "changed his life." He wouldn't go into specifics about what those "old ways" were. Court documents give some indication.

In 1996, Bradford was accused of kidnapping, sexually assaulting and cutting the throat of a female victim. He was initially charged with attempt to commit first-degree murder, but prosecutors amended the charges to rape and kidnapping.

A Garland County Circuit Court jury found him guilty of kidnapping but was not able reach a verdict on the rape charges. Arkansas corrections officials said he entered prison in March 1997, facing a 12-year-sentence, and was paroled in February 2000. Investigators also found Bradford lived slightly more than two miles from Schuett's residence and just a mile and a half from where she was found, according to an affidavit released Tuesday.

"It's truly a rare occasion when we have the opportunity to prosecute a case like this," said Galveston County District Attorney Kurt Sistrunk. His office is charging Bradford with attempted capital murder.

"Jennifer has been a tremendous asset to this investigation from the beginning, an inspiration to all of us, and we are going to be very proud to have Jennifer by our side as we continue with our efforts to seek justice for you in the courtroom," said Sistrunk.

The break in the case came after FBI agent Richard Rennison and Dickinson police Detective Tim Cromie persuaded the FBI's Child Abduction Rapid Deployment (CARD) team to get involved.

"The main reason the CARD team picked this case was because she was alive," Rennison said. "In cases of child abduction, it is rare that the child is recovered alive. Frequently, you recover a body. And most times, you never find them."

In March 2008, the investigators found evidence collected 19 years ago -- the underwear and pajamas Schuett was wearing, as well as a man's underwear and T-shirt, which were found in the field where Schuett was left for dead.

The clothes had been tested in 1990, but the sample wasn't large enough for conclusive results. But newer techniques allow DNA to be isolated from a single human cell.
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The FBI lab recently informed Rennison that the DNA in the man's underwear matched Bradford's DNA profile. He was entered into the database after the 1997 kidnapping conviction in Arkansas.

Bradford was arrested on Tuesday morning on his way to work. He awaits extradition to Texas.

NEW DELHI, India (CNN) -- The economic might of India may bring to mind technological savvy and overseas call centers. But to understand the Indian economy, a visit to a roadside dentist like Raj Kishore is more illuminating.
The Indian economy is fueled by independent workers such as Radha Kumar.

The Indian economy is fueled by independent workers such as Radha Kumar.
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"I can extract, I can fill up, I can scale, I can make dentures, I can make bridge metal or non-metal." Kishore said as he fitted dentures for a customer.

One thing he can't do is show a license to practice -- like many roadside dentists sitting on sidewalks awaiting customers.

While information technology and outsourcing has earned India the nickname as "the world's back office," the sector employs a fraction of India's population -- only 2 million of India's more than 500 million workers, according to NASSCOM, an IT and business process outsourcing trade organization.

So where do the majority of people work in India? The International Labor Organization and economists say as many as 95 percent of the workforce makes a living in what is known as the informal or unorganized sector.

"Roughly today about 50 percent of the production is from the unorganized sector," says New Delhi-based economics professor Arun Kumar, referring to jobs and services that exist without a storefront, union to represent the workers, or corporate structure.

Although things are changing and the economy has boomed in recent years, Indians are still emerging from poverty. Finding employment can be tough so people have literally created jobs out of sheer necessity, such as roadside dentist Kishore.

Kishore says he learned his trade from a dentist and a dental course but he does not have a degree in dentistry. He and those around him provide a service to customers who couldn't dream of affording a licensed dentist in an office.

That is just one of thousands of jobs that make up India's informal economy.
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Radha Kumari is a Mehandi artist. She uses henna to make intricate traditional designs on women's hands and feet. It's an old art that is steeped in tradition and is typically worn by brides the day before the wedding ceremony but is also popular during other Indian holidays and with tourists. She learned the trade from her sister at age 10 and started working as a teenager.

"I started doing this work because I was needy. I have no parents; my sister has done everything for me so it was very important for me to work," said Kumari, a mother of two, while she swirled henna on the hand of a customer.

She makes 25 to 50 rupees (50 cents to $1) per hand, she said. She and other henna artists are often "troubled" by city authorities or police who come to kick them off of the sidewalks or ask for bribes -- technically Kumari and others are breaking the law by setting up shop on government property.

City government authorities showed up while CNN was interviewing Kumari, causing the henna artists around her to pack up and run away.

It's a tough life. "If there can be anything better, I would definitely love to do it," she said. "Here there is no certainty. Today I'm allowed to sit here, tomorrow I may not be." But Kumari says it's better than nothing at all.

Experts say the informal economy helped keep India out of recession, since it is not tied to the global markets. While the ingenuity and entrepreneurial spirit has help the Indian economy growing, the largely unregulated workforce promises to have negative impacts on the Indian economy as well, as transactions are often in cash and difficult to trace and tax.
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But the working conditions and low pay leave millions living in poverty.

"Their conditions are very poor because they have no protective gear of any kind, they have no real social security of any kind," said Arun Kumar, an economics professor at Jawaharlal Nehru University. "They face a lot of hardship of all kinds in terms of their existence, where they stay, what do they do, their health conditions, et cetera."