Standoff Over Cuban Boy's Fate Intensifies
The New York Times. March 29, 2000
By Rick Bragg
MIAMI, March 28 -- On a day when people vowed to die for Elián González, and his relatives said the Virgin Mary had reappeared on his bedroom mirror, United States immigration officials and the boy's Miami relatives remained in a standoff over the government's demand that his
great-uncle promise to turn him over to federal officials if the relatives lose the court fight to keep him.
Immigration officials this morning continued to press lawyers for the boy's great-uncle, Lázaro González, to encourage him to sign a document agreeing to a peaceful, orderly resolution to the emotionally charged situation if the United States Court of Appeals for the 11th Circuit
rules against the family in a hearing in May.
The family lashed back.
"They said, 'If you don't sign the paper, we remove Elián,' " said Armando Gutiérrez, a spokesman for the family. "They are the ones who put this kid in Lazáro's home and they just want him to sign a blank statement, which is not the American way."
Mr. Gutiérrez said he did not know whether Mr. González, an automobile mechanic, would agree to sign the letter.
Immigration officials were to meet on Wednesday with Mr. González and ask him, face to face, to comply. If the family continues to defy immigration officials, the agency could remove the boy from the home as early as Thursday at 9 a.m., government officials said.
But that could be more difficult than it sounds.
As lawyers continued their war of words behind closed doors and television microphones, the increasingly dramatic, poignant saga of 6-year-old Elián became increasingly heated and strange.
Outside the house, where a group of about 50 Cuban exiles have kept a round-the-clock vigil, several people warned that, no matter what papers are signed, they do not intend to allow anyone to take Elián away, even if that means dying for him.
"I am not afraid of Clinton, of Janet Reno or of the police," said Jose Ramos, an elderly Cuban-American retiree who stood guard outside the house on Northwest Second Street in Little Havana. "I will die for Elián."
Mr. Ramos echoed the feelings of many people here who said they would form human chains, lie down in front of cars and form walls with their bodies to protect Elián from the immigration service, agents of Cuban President Fidel Castro and anyone else who tries to take him away.
"This a battle between good and evil, and right now America is evil," said Dulce González, no relation to Elián, a retired schoolteacher who came to Miami from Cuba 30 years ago. "Today, we are destroying our Constitution."
Meanwhile, on "Good Morning America," viewers got another look at Elián and Diane Sawyer coloring and playing games, as ABC offered the second installment of a three-part series in which Ms. Sawyer and Elián spoke about his ordeal and stood on their heads. Ms. Sawyer said
Elián told her he wanted to stay in Miami, but a network spokesman said ABC did not air that segment because of the already incendiary nature of the confrontation between the government and the boy's family.
And, in perhaps the most unusual development, relatives continued to claim that the Virgin Mary had appeared to them in a mirror in Elián's bedroom. The great-uncle, Mr. González, said he wept with joy when he first saw it.
A week ago, United States District Judge K. Michael Moore dismissed a lawsuit requesting a political asylum hearing for Elián, and said that only Attorney General Janet Reno could grant him asylum. Ms. Reno said he should be returned, as soon as possible, to his father in Cuba.
Members of Elián's Miami family have said that if the father, Juan Miguel González, came to Miami to get the boy, and if Elián wanted to go, they would allow it.
But experts on immigration say they doubt the family has any intention of giving the boy up.
"It looks like a standoff, but this is crunch time for I.N.S.," said Max Castro, a senior research associate for the Dante B. Fascell North-South Center of the University of Miami, and an expert on Cuban issues. "I.N.S. is going to have to execute this in some way."
If immigration officials waver, the family will just stall, he said.
Elián was found floating off the coast of Fort Lauderdale, Fla., on an inner tube on Thanksgiving Day, after surviving a boat capsizing that killed his mother and 10 others. Two others survived the capsizing, but it is Elián who has been in the center of a storm of attention ever
since.
Immigration officials have said they do not want to traumatize the boy by forcibly removing him from the home, and they do not want to antagonize the city's large Cuban-American population. Cuban-Americans make up more than 700,000 of Miami-Dade County's 2.1 million people.
It may be far too late for that. Demonstrators outside the boy's house warned that bad days are coming for the city.
"We are very angry," said Arturo Pérez, another retiree who is spending his days outside the house. "We are going to stop Miami."
El Duque Quick to Fix His Cuban Statistics
By Buster Olney.
TMPA, Fla., March 28 -- The official guide of baseball in Cuba -- the Guia oficial -- is placed in the hands of Orlando Hernández, who defected from that country more than two years ago. The cover has a green background, with blue lettering and the image of a middle infielder trying to
tag out a sliding runner. Neither player's face is shown.
Lounging at his locker in the Yankees' clubhouse, Hernández's face brightens when he sees the book, and he folds the newspaper he had been reading and places it in the chair of Andy Pettitte. He lifts the baseball guide slightly. "I have," he says, using two of the English
words he understands and speaks; his visitor, similarly, possesses a cursory understanding of Spanish.
Hernández immediately flips open the book, which resembles "The Baseball Encyclopedia," with lists of career statistics for hundreds of players and year-by-year leaders in numerous categories. This edition was published in 1999, and contains detailed statistics from Cuba's
1998-99 season, including a complete breakdown of the two exhibition games with the Baltimore Orioles.
Hernández immediately flips to the back of the book. "Me," he says, and he slowly pulls his right index finger down a list of names listed alphabetically, stopping at Hernández Pedroso, Orlando. The column listing career victories says 126. "One hundred twenty-nine,"
El Duque insists, indicating the number in the book is inaccurate.
Hernández's hands are large and thick and strong. He points at an asterisk next to his name and, using Spanish, tries to explain its meaning. "You understand?"
No, his visitor says. Hernández then points out some of the very few other players who have asterisks next to their names. Rene Arocha. Ariel Prieto. Manuel Hertado. And the meaning of the asterisk is clear. "Defectors," his visitor says. "Yes, yes," Hernández
responds, grimacing disgustedly, and then he is pointing at another name.
"My father," he says. Arnaldo Hernández, also called El Duque, won 26 games and lost 24, the record shows.
"My brother," he says, and he flips a page back and there is the name of Livan HernÀndez, who now pitches for the San Francisco Giants; Livan had a record of 27-16.
Hernández, the Yankees' opening day starter, opens to another section of the book, where the career statistics of hitters are listed. His father, he notes, was also an established hitter. "What position? Shortstop?" the visitor asks. "All over," Hernández says,
smiling, drawing a wide circle with his hands.
He points to another name. "My brother," he says. "He died."
Arnaldo Hernández, the guide says, played one season. He was Arnaldo Hernández Jr., Orlando's older brother. Livan and Orlando have different mothers; Orlando and Arnaldo had the same mother.
"Why did he die?" the visitor asks, in broken Spanish, and Orlando points to his head. What he later explains through an interpreter is that his brother died of a cerebral hemorrhage.
Hernández taps Pettitte's seat and asks the visitor to sit. El Duque begins to flip the pages again, halting whenever he notices the name of a defector who might be familiar. "Osvaldo Fernandez," he said, smiling, and he mentions that Fernandez is playing with Cincinnati.
He turns to Page 288, where career leaders are listed. His name is at the top of the category of winning percentage -- .728. In second place is Lazaro Valle, at .672. "Valle," he says, and he makes a motion as if throwing hard. "Ninety-eight."
A 98-mile-an-hour fastball? "Yes," he says. "They say Randy Johnson? Valle. Ninety-eight. And slider. Ask Ricky -- he saw."
Ricky Ledee, the Yankees' left fielder, shakes his head in astonishment at the memory of Lazaro Valle, who he saw pitch in Puerto Rico. "He was just throwing cheese," Ledee says. "All the scouts there, they were all trying to get him to leave" -- defect -- "but he
wouldn't go."
Hernández jabs a finger at another category, where his name is listed. Whatever the statistic, Hernández had three in 1992 and led Cuba. "Nine innings, no runs," Hernández explains.
"Shutouts," his visitor says, and Hernández nods.
He closes the book. "En Cuba, bueno," Hernández says, tapping his chest. In Cuba, he was good, he says. "Here, no good," he says, laughing.
He grabs a small fold of skin that has gathered at the top of his belt line. "In Cuba," he begins, and he draws imaginary squares across his abdomen -- he was in great shape, his abdominal muscles showing. "Here? No," he says, waving his hands in disgust.
Hernández has never lost in the postseason. No bueno? "What would the Atlanta Braves say about that -- you're not good?" the visitor asks. "Cleveland? The Boston Red Sox?"
Hernández laughs loudly, and taps himself again. "In Cuba," he says, "bueno."
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