'Normal life' in Cuba keeps child out of spotlight, father in it
By Herald Staff. Posted at 8:13 a.m. EDT Sunday, April 22,
2001 in the Miami Herald
CARDENAS, Cuba -- Seven-year-old Elián González's new life in
Cuba is an existence of no wants, private bodyguards, and even a doting Fidel
Castro who stops by in a swirl of black Mercedes-Benz sedans to kiss the child
on the head.
The 74-year-old Cuban leader promised the world a "normal life'' for
Elián when the boy returned from Miami last year to the drowsy,
dilapidated city of Cárdenas. But what the shipwreck survivor got instead
was a rigidly crafted world of privilege, as surreal as his often tumultuous
public life in Little Havana.
While Elián no longer lives in the glare of cameras, he goes to
school each morning shadowed by police. His playmates are limited to the
children at school, which is under police surveillance. Neighbors describe the
husky, high-spirited youngster as a virtual ghost, rarely seen playing with
local children in the narrow street outside his bright blue home.
When heavily armed federal agents grabbed Elián from the arms of his
Miami relatives one year ago today, many exiles predicted that the child would
be used as a poster boy for the Cuban revolution. The notion was anathema to the
Cuban-American community, which followed every moment of the emotional
seven-month fight for custody from the time Elián was rescued on
Thanksgiving Day 1999 to the day he left U.S. soil for Cuba in June last year.
Instead, it is his father, 32-year-old Juan Miguel González, who has
emerged as a highly visible hero, pictured alongside Castro at key national
celebrations like last week's observance by the Cuban state of its victory at
the Bay of Pigs.
Juan Miguel has also been promoted to a leadership position in the local
Communist Party, and enjoys overnight stays in government guest houses and free
transportation.
"You don't see Elián's face on posters or T-shirts anymore,''
says a longtime Castro loyalist in Havana. "What you have is Elián,
like a trophy in a showcase, and Juan Miguel, the loyal comrade applauded by
Castro himself.''
LOYALTY TO CASTRO
Family reportedly lives well, watched over by Cuban guards
Half of the González family may have fled to Florida, neighbors in Cárdenas
say. But those who remain not only proved their fealty to Castro at the moment
he needed a cause to galvanize a disenchanted population, but they emerged as
authentic, even articulate supporters of the Cuban president.
"Well, that family has a new washing machine, a new television -- many
new things,'' said a woman on the block next to the González family
residence who asked that she be identified only as Pamela. "These are the
rewards for standing by Fidel even when the yanquis offered them millions of
dollars [to defect].''
But privilege has its price.
Government agents monitor incoming phone calls at the González home.
Neighbors say they prevent any contact with Elián's Miami relatives
except calls from Manolo González, an uncle and the lone family member
who argued for the return of Elián to Juan Miguel. They politely turn
away reporters asking to talk with the González family.
At least one, and sometimes two, unarmed but uniformed policemen stand guard
at the front door of the home, whose windows and doors are protected by steel
shutters. Neighbors say González is worried about a kidnapping attempt.
They scoff at assertions by his Miami relatives that the Cuban government fears
Juan Miguel might defect.
Police also guard the pink-painted Marcelo Salado primary school that Elián
attends, and often accompany Juan Miguel or Elián's grandmothers when
they take him to school, pick him up, or take him to karate lessons.
Juan Miguel has his own guard -- "my friend,'' he tells neighbors -- at
Parque Josone at the nearby resort town of Varadero. There, it is his job to
wait on tables at the small Italian restaurant on the tree-shaded premises, or
man the entrance booth to the park. It was once the summer home of the
Arechabala family, which owned the now defunct Havana Club rum distillery across
the bay in Cárdenas.
Some foreign tourists dining at the restaurant have paid generous tips to
have their photo taken with Elián's father, a caretaker said.
"Lucky guy,'' said Ernesto Lanier, a visitor pulling at the oars in a
boat on the park's private lake. "His life here is a dream.''
Sam Ciancio, the Broward County roofer who dived into the sea to rescue Elián,
is one of the few Americans in the drama who still have regular contact with
Juan Miguel. Others include the Rev. Joan Brown Campbell, former general
secretary of the National Council of Churches, which helped reunite father and
son, and Jerry M. Weiner, professor emeritus of psychiatry and pediatrics at
George Washington University Medical School. Weiner was asked by the INS to
check on Elián in Washington, and saw the boy again in March.
Ciancio, 41, went to Cárdenas -- 90 miles east of Havana -- for four
days at Thanksgiving. He stayed at a government guest house, visited Elián's
school and saw the boy at his home, where he keeps a pet parrot he calls
Ninoska. Ciancio plans to return to Cuba in June.
"He's still the same,'' he said. "He's a kid who likes fun. Every
10 minutes he was fixing his hair. He'd get the hair spray out, run to the
mirror, check out how he looks. Then he'd use some gel, run back again.''
But Ciancio said he agreed to a request by the González family not to
discuss the rescue with the boy or his playmates. In Elián's mind, he
said, "I am the American guy who splashed around in the pool with him when
he was in Washington [awaiting the outcome of his court case]. He doesn't
remember me.''
"When Elián gets older, then he can know the truth,'' Ciancio
said of the rescue.
However, Campbell, the religious studies director at New York's Chautauqua
Institution, said Elián has not been shielded from the loss of his
mother. Campbell made her fourth visit to Cárdenas two weeks ago.
REMEMBRANCE OF MOTHER
Elián displayed a photograph of the woman who died at sea
"This is my beautiful mama -- she's dead,'' Campbell said the youngster
exclaimed matter-of-factly when he showed her a photo of Elizabet Brotons, who
died at sea apparently after placing Elián in an inner tube in a
desperate attempt to make sure he lived. Brotons' body was never found.
Campbell said she especially admired the efforts by Elián's
stepmother, Nercy Carmenate Castillo, to help the boy adjust to life in Cuba and
come to grips with the fact that his mother died at sea.
She said both Juan Miguel and his wife have a close, warm relationship with
Elián, who dotes on his half-brother, Hianny.
"Nercy is expecting a baby boy in June,'' Campbell said. "I asked
Elián what he would name the baby and he said, 'Elián II.' He
still has that mischievous twinkle. And he know's he's joking.''
Campbell said Castro kept his word, as far as she is concerned.
"Promises made, promises kept,'' she said of a pledge made to her by
Castro in Havana before Elián returned. "He said, 'We will not
expose him to publicity. We are not going to put him in a parade.' That hasn't
happened.''
APTITUDE FOR CAMERA
But boy has been spared from the public spotlight
She said Elián said nothing about his Miami family. But when she gave
him a Polaroid camera, the most photographed boy in Florida acted like a camera
pro, asking people to pose just as the photographers once massed around the
Little Havana home demanded of him.
Weiner, who had told the INS that he believed Elián would be better
able to cope with the death of his mother if he lived in Cuba, said he, too, was
"very, very pleased to see how well [Elián] was doing.''
"My impression was they've really done a wonderful job of not having
Elián become the victim of attention, and of making his life as normal as
possible,'' Weiner said. In his view, the police were on hand only to safeguard
Elián's privacy.
Leovigildo Contreras, who lives near the González family, said "Fidel
kept his word when he said everything would return to the way it was once the
boy came home.''
NO STATUES OF BOY
"If you look around Cárdenas, you won't see any statues of Elián,''
Contreras said. "Sometimes we see Juan Miguel taking the boy to school'' on
the crossbar of a bike. "Two or three times, I have seen news about him on
television.
"But mostly, we see Juan Miguel standing by the side of Fidel'' on
television. He is introduced as "a symbol of the homeland'' and lauded as a
model communist by Castro, Contreras said. "Fidel loves Juan Miguel,'' he
said.
Evidence of Juan Miguel's special status, other neighbors said, came last
July when Castro summoned González to the Karl Marx Theater in Havana to
pin the Carlos Manuel de Cespedes medal on his chest. It is the Cuban state's
highest civilian award.
On Dec. 6, Castro arrived in Cárdenas unannounced to toast Elián
and his father at the boy's birthday party. In March, Castro returned to
introduce father and son to South African President Thabo Mbeki.
FATHER IN THE LIMELIGHT
He appeared with Castro at recent public ceremonies
Last week in Havana, Juan Miguel González -- clad in Cuban militia
fatigues with an assault rifle slung over his shoulder -- joined Castro on
center stage at a vast outdoor political gathering. On Thursday, he was with the
Cuban leader in Playa Girón to celebrate the defeat in 1962 of the
U.S.-trained Brigade 2506. Elián was not at the official ceremony but was
playing at the nearby Horizontes resort.
"Everyone knows that Juan Miguel is a very good man and an excellent
father and that since he returned [from the United States], he has been
promoted,'' said Mayda Moreira, a woman collecting firewood at La Sierra. La
Sierra is the rocky waterfront near Cárdenas where Elián began his
voyage to the United States with his mother on Nov. 21, 1999.
Julia Almenar, another neighbor, said the local Committee for the Defense of
the Revolution -- a block watch that monitors and reports on the activities of
Cubans -- held meetings before Elián returned to discuss "how we
would guarantee their privacy.'' Yet some Cárdenas citizens appear only
too happy to give outsiders directions to the González house.
Still, Almenar said, "It is the duty of all of us to ask questions when
strangers come. Sometimes we tell them to go away, or we report them. We do it
to protect the boy.''
The home is one block south of Fifth Street, a crumbling collection of
formerly elegant commercial buildings long disused. Horse-pulled carriages -- "coches
tradicionales'' -- clip-clop past the house bearing Cárdenas citizens.
Other locals weave down the street on Chinese-made bicycles and wave to a
policeman seated on a chair outside the González residence.
'SAVE ELIAN'
A small sign above the front door, erected by Almenar's committee, reads, "Salvemos
a Elián'' -- "Save Elián'' -- a slogan used in Cuba during
mass demonstrations organized by Castro to demand the "liberation'' of the
boy. It is, apparently, the sole symbol of the struggle still visible in town.
A few neighbors share stories discreetly after ensuring that no one is
watching.
Elián, whose hair was cropped close in Miami, has let it grow a bit
longer and slicks it back "like a real good-looking guy,'' one woman said,
laughing. "His father thinks he should have short hair, but he spoils the
boy.''
Elián is shy around most visitors, but he is not bashful when the
visitor is also a celebrity -- "like him'' -- said a woman whose daughter
attends Elián's school. "When Fidel was here for Elián's
birthday, the boy took the microphone to welcome him. Fidel was so impressed he
bent down and kissed the child on his head.''
Elián often goes to Parque Josone with his father, a man said. "He
splashes the water'' in the lake "and chases the birds like most boys. He
is a sweet child, but he is used to getting his own way.''
"He does not miss Miami,'' the man said. "He never mentions it
anymore. . . . He is a very happy little boy.''
Experts: Elián lawsuit on shaky ground
By Jay Weaver . jweaver@herald.com. Published Monday, April
23, 2001
Elián González's Miami relatives lost one colossal court
battle to the U.S. government -- and they could lose again in a matter of weeks,
legal experts say.
The family of great-uncle Lázaro González has sued former
Attorney General Janet Reno, ex-immigration chief Doris Meissner, federal agents
and top Miami police officers for the government's April 22, 2000 raid on his
Little Havana home.
The Gonzálezes are seeking to make Reno, Meissner and the government
pay them unspecified monetary damages for allegedly violating their
constitutional and civil rights during the predawn seizure of the little boy.
Experts say the odds of winning are against the relatives, given the
government's broad authority and the southeastern federal courts' conservative
tradition on search-and-seizure matters.
"They're going to have an uphill battle,'' said prominent Miami
immigration lawyer Ira Kurzban.
U.S. District Judge Shelby Highsmith already has tossed out part of the González
family's suit, granting a dismissal motion by the city of Miami, former Police
Chief William O'Brien and ex-Assistant Police Chief John Brooks.
The judge said in the order last Monday that the government's main dismissal
motion is now "ripe for ruling.''
The Gonzálezes' lawyers have built their suit, filed in September, on
a simple foundation: The Immigration and Naturalization Service's arrest and
search warrants -- issued on grounds that the 6-year-old boy was an illegal
alien -- were unlawful.
Their lawyers' reasoning: Elián was legally in this country at the
time of the raid because an Atlanta appellate court prohibited his removal from
the United States until a decision on his bid for a political asylum hearing.
They also argue that the Gonzálezes were not holding the boy against his
will.
"Instead of diffusing the situation, they used the maximum possible
force on a civilian group,'' said attorney Frank Quintero, who is representing
the family along with lawyer Ron Guralnick. "It's not only uncalled for
under our Constitution, but it goes against everything this country stands
for.''
ENFORCEMENT ACTIONS
The INS, in a statement, said the "litigation precludes us from
commenting in-depth about this emotionally charged case. However, as we have
said before, the law enforcement actions conducted by [the INS] . . . were
appropriate.''
According to legal experts, the Gonzálezes' suit rests on shaky
ground because the INS went to unusual lengths to protect its legal backside.
The agency submitted an affidavit with several supporting documents to
obtain the search warrant from federal Magistrate Robert Dube in Miami. Usually,
the INS does not get a warrant before taking an illegal alien into custody.
Experts also noted that Elián's temporary parole allowing him to stay
legally with his Miami relatives was revoked by the INS because the relatives
defied the agency's order to release him nine days before the raid.
The experts pointed out that the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals in Atlanta
never addressed the question of the boy's custody -- only that he could not
leave the United States until the court's decision on his asylum hearing. The
appellate court ultimately ruled the INS had the authority to deny him that
hearing, setting the stage for Elián's return to Cuba with his father.
"They dotted every 'i' and crossed every 't' in this case,'' said Miami
immigration attorney Tammy Fox-Isicoff, a former INS lawyer. "It's not
because the boy was Cuban. It's because the eyes of the world were on him.''
She said that compared to other foreign nationals and even permanent
residents, the INS "bent over backward to treat this kid nicely.''
At the root of the Gonzálezes' suit is the legality of the INS'
administrative arrest warrant for Elián and, more important, its search
warrant to enter their home to seize the boy. Both were issued on April 21,
2000, just before the raid.
After the boy's seizure, the debate over the search warrant was marked by
misunderstanding and errors. For instance, noted Harvard constitutional scholar
Laurence Tribe wrote a New York Times column assailing the warrant before having
read the documents supplied to the federal magistrate who signed it. In the
column, Tribe erroneously said Elián was not an illegal alien -- a
mistake repeated by other critics of the raid.
In fact, though the boy was physically present in the country, he was an "unadmitted
alien'' with few due process rights under immigration law. As such, he was
entirely subject to the control of the INS and attorney general, who oversees
the agency.
That fact was critical when the INS sought the search warrant because Elián
was not legally in the country when the agency revoked his parole, and his Miami
relatives had no right to keep him, immigration experts said.
As for the search warrant itself, veteran Miami defense attorney Milton
Hirsch, who wrote a legal text on criminal procedure, said: "It reflects
more information than we would customarily see approved every day of the week.
"If we were to white-out the name Elián González on that
warrant and submit it as a law school exam and ask whether it would pass legal
scrutiny, the answer would be yes.''
ACLU VIEW
The American Civil Liberties Union, which initially expressed outrage over
the raid in the belief that the INS had no search warrant, now agrees the agency
executed it by the book.
But attorney John de Leon, president of the ACLU in Miami, said immigration
officials could have handled the explosive matter more delicately by seeking a
court order, such as a writ of habeas corpus, to compel Elián's relatives
to turn over the boy.
He said that would have involved a court hearing with more due process
rights for Elián and his relatives.
"The family would have turned over that child if they had been ordered
to do so by the court,'' de Leon said. "They would have never done anything
unlawful to harm the child.''
But the federal court never got the opportunity to issue a writ because the
INS never sought one out of fear that Elián's relatives would move him
into hiding.
Hundreds Turn Out For Elian Anniversary
Published Monday, April 23, 2001.
The world's most famous Cuban refugee became the focus this weekend for many
in South Florida as they marked the day federal agents took Elian Gonzalez from
Miami.
Hundreds of people sang and prayed in front of the Little Havana home where
Gonzalez lived for seven months before he was returned to his father.
The world has seen Gonzalez on video several times in the past year, both at
his school in Cardenas Cuba and at his 7th birthday party.
Some of the people in touch with his family in Cuba say that the boy has
adjusted well.
"I would describe Elian as very well adjusted. I would say he is a
normal 7-year-old boy," Sally Groome-Cowal of the Cuba Policy Foundation
said.
The Gonzalez family has filed a lawsuit against the government over the
raid.
Copyright 2001 Miami Herald | 