For years the infamous Wasp Network collected reams of data on Miami's
anti-Castro forces -- and the sundry, sometimes bizarre, attempts to infiltrate
them
By Kirk Nielsen. Published by Miami New Times February 1,
2001. From miaminewtimes.com.
They came, they spied, they typed on their computers. But they never
intended to make the contents of their floppy disks public. Indeed the idea of
that happening was perhaps their worst nightmare, one that came true on
September 12, 1998, as they slept in their various apartments in Broward and
Miami-Dade counties. FBI agents arrived very early that morning to swat down ten
members of a group that called itself the Wasp Network. The FBI rattled them
from slumber, charged them with spying for the Cuban government, and seized many
of their possessions, including hundreds of computer diskettes. Even before the
arrests, FBI agents had been stealthily reading and copying the files during
surreptitious visits to the defendants' homes. As specialists decoded the
documents, they began to piece together a detailed narrative revealing the
group's surveillance of Cuban exile groups and U.S. military installations.
Antonio Guerrero typed mostly about the Boca Chica Naval Air Station in Key
West, while Ramon Labañino and Fernando Gonzalez concentrated on ways to
infiltrate the U.S. Southern Command in west Miami-Dade. Rene Gonzalez wrote
about several Cuban exile groups he had easily joined. Gerardo Hernandez
reviewed their notes, critiqued them, expounded on them, and sent them along to
the Directorate of Intelligence in Havana. Five other members also composed but
not with the same dedication.
U.S. Justice Department lawyers soon drafted something else: a lengthy
indictment charging the ten arrested members of the Wasp Network with various
crimes related to espionage and, in the case of the 34-year-old Hernandez,
conspiracy to murder four men killed when Cuban MiGs destroyed two Brothers to
the Rescue planes in 1996. The five less-devoted scribes pleaded guilty and
received sentences from three and a half to seven years.
When the five who pleaded innocent finally went on trial this past December
6, federal prosecutors had organized 1400 pages of the secret messages into a
three-volume set of thick three-ring binders. Jurors in the courtroom of U.S.
District Judge Joan Lenard now peruse the clandestine files five days a week.
When an attorney puts a page on the overhead projector, it appears
simultaneously on two big monitors oriented toward the jury and five smaller
ones stationed in front of each defendant. Everyone, including relatives of the
four dead pilots, reads them together: the instructions from Havana, the
detailed stories for their false identities, the counts of F-14s and A-10s at
the Boca Chica base, the lack of jobs at the U.S. Southern Command, the rants
about anti-Castro exile groups and their "pigheaded" and "senile"
leaders. Messages in uppercase and lower, in first person and third, in varying
tones of candor, sarcasm, bravado, and viciousness, but always in the proper
socialist register required of the loyal revolutionary: "Greetings and a
hug, brother," Labañino begins a memo to Guerrero. "Our regards
and best wishes for this new year of battles and victories right in the enemy's
bosom in this year of historic deeds, 1998. This year that is just beginning
places greater goals and missions in our hands and in our future. We know you
would give each one that special seal of quality and total dedication that you
always give each task that the revolution assigns you." And there are many
more missives where that one came from. The FBI estimates there are about 15,000
additional pages that prosecutors are not using to make their case.
To three voracious readers -- assistant U.S. attorneys David Buckner,
Caroline Heck Miller, and John Kastrenakes -- the messages they are using tell
this story: Labañino, Guerrero, Hernandez, and Fernando Gonzalez
conspired to gather U.S. defense information and pass it to a foreign
government, in this case Cuba. In addition, they conclude, Hernandez conspired
to murder the four Brothers to the Rescue pilots. Rene Gonzalez, age 44 (no
relation to Fernando), is accused of illegally gathering intelligence for a
foreign government after infiltrating various Cuban exile groups, such as
Brothers to the Rescue and the Democracy Movement (Movimiento Democracia).
The five defendants, however, are hoping their recently published writings
will find sympathetic readers in the jury. Sure they assumed fake identities
with fraudulent birth certificates, social security cards, driver licenses, and
passports. But each, through his court-appointed lawyer, has admitted to spying
for a good reason: to protect the lives of people in Cuba from extremist
elements of the exile movement. From people who might be crazy enough to bomb
hotels in Havana, assassinate Fidel Castro, or even invade the island -- it has
been known to happen. In fact three of the men about which the Wasp Network was
worried -- Luis Posada Carriles, Guillermo Novo Sampoll, and Gaspar Jimenez
Escobedo-- currently are under arrest in Panama for a plot to kill Castro during
last November's Ibero-American Summit.
To emphasize their clients' position, the defense team has cited exchanges
like this one, dated July 28, 1997, which Fernando Gonzalez, using the code name
Oscar, wrote to Guerrero, whose code name was Lorient. Gonzalez had recently
assumed responsibility for supervising Guerrero. "Brother: When you read
this file, we will have already met each other in person, which makes me proud
because of the political, operational, and human quality of the comrades who,
like yourself, are carrying out missions in enemy territory so that our families
and our people in general can rest easy."
The full story of the Wasp Network cannot yet be told. Judge Lenard's gag
order on defendants, lawyers, and witnesses precludes that. Moreover the
messages the FBI has released are riddled with omissions. But enough missives
have emerged to add an absurd little chapter to cold war history.
It would take just one pilot determined to fly southward from Opa-locka,
open a window over Havana, and drop some kind of secret weapon on an oil
refinery to spark a very messy international incident. But really, what are the
odds of that? Cuban officials were not about to take any chances. They made that
clear when Cuban MiGs shot down two Brothers to Rescue planes on February 24,
1996, killing four exile pilots.
While the jury is out on whether Hernandez should bear responsibility for
those deaths, the Wasp Network's writings clearly indicate the spies planned to
sting Brothers to the Rescue and its leader, José Basulto. After all,
Basulto was one of numerous Cubans who returned to Cuba legally in 1961 to
prepare for the Bay of Pigs invasion. In the deadly debacle that ensued, he
escaped to Guantánamo. But he would not quit. A year later he and six
other exiles traveled from Marathon Key to the coast of Havana in a heavily
armed boat and fired a small cannon at an oceanside hotel. For years he
advocated the assassination of Castro but eventually backed away from the
violent struggle, publicly at least, and became a luxury-home builder. In 1991,
as an alarming number of Cubans began fleeing their homeland in rafts, he
cofounded Brothers to the Rescue. The group flew hundreds of missions to pull
rafters out of the dangerous seas.
In 1995 Basulto shifted gears; he began flying over Cuba and dropping
anti-Castro leaflets, to the annoyance of some Cuban government officials. That
earned him a top slot on the Wasp Network's list of targets.
The Wasp Network's penetration of Brothers to the Rescue was one of its
notable successes. Two of its operatives were well inside. One was Rene
Gonzalez, whose code names were Castor and Iselin. The other was Juan Pablo
Roque, whose code names were Venecia and German (pronounced hare-mahn). They
lived in the Miami area and reported to Capt. Gerardo Hernandez, who had an
apartment in North Miami Beach.
A message from Havana to Hernandez in November 1995 outlines Operation
Picada (Spanish for "bite" or "sting"), which was aimed at
sabotaging Brothers to the Rescue and discrediting Basulto. Among the "actions
to be developed" for the operation was "the possibility of burning
down the warehouse of this counterrevolutionary organization and affect[ing] its
planes, making it seem like an accident, negligence, or self-damage, keeping in
mind that this place may be secured, and that in cases like these,
investigations are performed. Rumors will leak that Basulto and his people
caused the damage themselves to collect the insurance and get more money from
their contributors." Because he is expected to testify, Basulto is barred
from speaking to the press about the case. But he has previously told reporters
of incidents in which he discovered that steering cables of Brothers to the
Rescue planes were severed. Another possible sting would be "to disable
their equipment and transmission antennae on land, the ones they use to
communicate with during their missions, making it seem like negligence."
One of special agent Rene Gonzalez's assignments was to inform Hernandez "when
the Brothers to the Rescue planes will be taking off, who is in them, and if
they are going to land at a specific place." He would type up an encoded
report, save it on a disk, and pass it to Hernandez.
At the time Gonzalez was on a roll. It had been five years since the Cuban
Air Force veteran flew a crop-dusting plane from Cuba to the Boca Chica air base
near Key West in 1990 and announced his defection. Now he was not only one of
the Brothers' esteemed pilots but an assistant director of the Democracy
Movement's air command as well. He also belonged to PUND (the Democratic
National Unity Party), several of whose commandos promptly were captured while
making two raids on Cuban soil in 1994 and in 1996.
Roque, though, might have been losing his edge. He was eager to return to
Cuba. One report to Havana suggests such eagerness may have started to taint his
ability to reason about certain things. The message was apparently written by
Albert Manuel Ruiz, one of the alleged spies who escaped. It states that the two
met at 9:00 a.m. on November 27, 1995, at the McDonald's restaurant at 3200 S.
Dixie Hwy. in Coconut Grove to exchange information on Brothers to the Rescue.
Roque informed Ruiz about an idea Basulto had to seek permission from the Cuban
government to make flights to Havana to deliver humanitarian aid to political
prisoners. In his report Ruiz refers to himself in the third person as A-4, one
of his code names. "German [Roque] seemed to think these flights might be
authorized by Cuba. He even described with enthusiasm how good it would be if
they would take place, and he would go with Basulto, land in Cuba, and say, "That's
it for me,' and what he referred to is how much of an impact it would have for
one of the pilots of Brothers to the Rescue to stay. In regards to this, A-4
[Ruiz] hinted that the idea was a bit of a fantasy because it was quite obvious
that the Cuban government would not accept that."
Roque also was becoming paranoid. He thought Basulto was growing suspicious
of him, as Ruiz reported a few days later after another secret meeting with his
comrade at the Pollo Tropical on Le Jeune Road and NW 36th Street.
On the other hand, Roque had gathered an intelligence gem regarding Basulto.
In a message dated November 27, 1995, Ruiz informs Havana about it: "German
stated that he had many and very good things. He said that Basulto had told him
about plans he has with a "secret weapon' that was very effective during
the Second World War and has not been manufactured anymore even though it is not
very costly. He said that weapon could be introduced in Cuba to be used by
counterrevolutionary groups and to promote actions against the government. A-4
insisted that he give more details about that "weapon,' but he said that he
didn't know anything else. He said it was an anti-personnel weapon but has not
been able to find out anything else."
About three months later, on February 22, 1996, Gonzalez found out about an
upcoming Brothers to the Rescue mission that Basulto was keeping secret. As part
of his cover, the Cuban agent had been plotting to get his wife and daughter out
of Cuba. He met that day with Basulto to discuss how to send a letter to the
State Department via two Cuban-American U.S. representatives, Ileana
Ros-Lehtinen and Lincoln Diaz-Balart. "As we were talking," Gonzalez
typed to Hernandez, "he received a call from Carlos Costa, apparently
inquiring about an operation that was going to take place in the future. Basulto
told him that the entire fleet would be used, although he did not give any more
details." But Gonzalez had a hunch: The Brothers to the Rescue leader was
planning a flight that was to take place two days later to coincide with a
conference of a dissident group. "He is evidently being very discreet,"
Gonzalez observed.
It will never be known what Basulto would have done had he flown over Havana
two days later, because he didn't. As his plane buzzed toward Cuba that morning,
two MiGs shot down two Cessnas that had departed from Opa-locka Airport and were
flying near him. Indeed the most chilling verbiage of the trial has come not
from the defendants' writings but from prosecutor David Buckner's opening
statement: "On February 24, 1996, Operation Scorpion was brought to its
deadly conclusion ... leaving only wreckage on the water." Four Brothers to
the Rescue pilots were killed: Pablo Morales, Armando Alejandre, Mario de la
Pena, and Carlos Costa, the pilot who had called Basulto while Gonzalez was in
his office.
In reading other messages, assistant U.S. attorneys Buckner, Kastrenakes,
and Miller saw evidence that Cuba was plotting to lure Basulto's planes in for a
shootdown. One shortwave message from Havana to its Miami operatives on January
29 said that "superior headquarters" had approved Operation Scorpion "in
order to perfect the confrontation" with Brothers to the Rescue. In a
message dated February 13, 1996 -- eleven days before the downing -- Hernandez
instructed Gonzalez to "pinpoint in more detail everything related to new
incursions by Brothers to the Rescue to be carried out in our country."
Among the details he asked for were:
"Very clear and precise specifications that will allow us to know
whether Marisol is flying or not. [Marisol is a code name for Basulto.]
"Whether the activity is to drop leaflets or to violate the air space.
"Whether you are flying or not."
His message ends with this warning: "If they ask you to fly at the last
minute without being scheduled, find an excuse and do not do it. If you cannot
avoid it, transmit over the airplane's radio the slogan for the July 13 Martyrs
and "Viva Cuba.' If you are not able to call, say over the radio: "Long
live Brothers to the Rescue and Democracia.'"
Prosecutors also have referred to another shortwave message the Directorate
of Intelligence broadcast to its Miami operatives on February 18. The lawyers
say it contains instructions regarding how Rene Gonzalez was to respond to
Roque's relocation to Cuba. "When Venecia's [Roque's] return is made
public, Castor's [Gonzalez's] first response should be incredulity and then
condemnation." Roque sneaked off to Cuba the day before the shootdown and
afterward denounced the group on Cuban government television, to the shock of
many Miami exiles, including his unwitting Cuban-American wife. Roque was
indicted in absentia, along with the others who escaped: Ricardo Villareal,
Remijio Luna, and Albert Manuel Ruiz.
If there is a smoking message in the decrypted documents, it is this text
from shortwave radio the Directorate of Intelligence sent its Miami operatives a
week after the shootdown: "Our profound recognition for Operation German.
Everything turned out well....We have dealt the Miami right a hard blow, in
which your role has been decisive."
The Wasp Network soon was contemplating other incredible, and
not-so-credible, counterrevolutionary developments and how to counteract them.
Would the most powerful Cuban exile group organize a mercenary force to invade
Cuba? Would it finance urban terrorists bent on planting bombs in Havana hotels?
Would its leader fake a terminal illness to shore up his sagging political
capital?
Several months after the Brothers to the Rescue shootdown, the chief of the
Directorate of Intelligence, Edgardo Delgado Rodriguez, sent a long message to
Hernandez. He warned that "violent actions against Cuba should increase in
the short term," adding facetiously, "as a result of the extreme
euphoria prevailing in Miami after the 24th of February." He instructed the
Wasp Network to watch for various groups and individuals who had pulled off
armed attacks inside Cuba. Many were the usual suspects -- old-timers such as
Luis Posada Carriles, Orlando Bosch, and Ramon Orozco Crespo -- whom Havana has
long tried to link to the Cuban American National Foundation. But he also
relayed to Hernandez an astounding new tip: CANF was organizing a new
paramilitary group. According to Delgado the report originated from a comrade
who said a U.S. National Guardmember named Andres Alvariño was working "to
form a group of 40 men with professional military experience, persons on active
duty in the military ... or ex-military personnel, for the execution of
paramilitary missions against Cuba. It would be a force of mercenaries without
ties to any counterrevolutionary Cuban groups, which they consider have been
penetrated and are vulnerable. They would be paid per mission, and they would
have life insurance policies of $100,000 for their families. [CANF board member]
Roberto Martin Perez will be in charge of this project.... One of the financial
promoters will be Enrique Casas, a Cuban millionaire and ex-U.S. Army officer
who has a boat company and arms deposits in Honduras that belonged to the
Nicaraguan contras." The message added that the CIA also was participating "indirectly"
and that Alvariño and a sergeant in the National Guard already had begun
recruiting the men. The recruits would be subjected to a "rigorous
investigation" and operate in cells of four.
Delgado also included CANF's board of directors, "who rely on renowned
terrorists, including the brothers [Guillermo and Ignacio] Novo Sampoll, Gaspar
Jimenez Escobedo, Felix Rodriguez, Ramon Orozco Crespo, and Luis Posada
Carriles." Delgado reported that in late November 1995, Jimenez Escobedo "suggested"
to CANF's board of directors the "convenience" with which explosives
of the kind Timothy McVeigh used in the Oklahoma City bombing could be used
against Castro. "Although we do not know how the proposal was received,"
Delgado continued, "a reliable source gave information that in subsequent
weeks Jimenez Escobedo himself, Orozco Crespo, and Posada, independently, will
try to acquire through different avenues type C-4 explosives [for use] against
our country. This information has not yet been corroborated."
A year later Posada told two New York Times reporters, who interviewed him
in an undisclosed location in the Caribbean, that he coordinated six Havana
hotel bombings from August to September 1997 in which eleven people were injured
and one man was killed. The type of explosive he used: C-4. He is awaiting a
sentence of death by firing squad. Posada, who received military training
alongside the late CANF founder Jorge Mas Canosa at Fort Benning, Georgia, in
1963, also told the reporters the foundation had financed the bombing operation
but later retracted the statement.
This past November Panamanian police arrested Posada, now age 70, for
planning to detonate C-4 explosives in an attempt to kill Castro while he was in
Panama for the Ibero-American Summit. The Cuban government wants to try him for
various crimes, including the bombing of a Cuban jet that crashed shortly after
takeoff from Barbados on October 6, 1976, killing 73 people. The CANF has always
denied any connection to Posada's activities. The group has publicly dismissed
Wasp Network intelligence as "fantasy."
But "CANF terrorists" are an elusive bunch and besides the Wasp
Network had many other duties concerning the Mas Canosa organization. Among
them: monitoring his political and material fortunes, plotting a few measures to
discredit this enemy, and drafting scads of messages to Havana.
For example in a May 24, 1996, message Hernandez writes: "The old
rivalry between Mas Canosa and [former Miami Herald publisher] David Lawrence
has been re-ignited. Mas Canosa spoke on the radio to defend himself and has
insulted Lawrence. It would be a good idea to make a threatening call to
Lawrence and the Herald."
In the spring of 1997, the Wasp Network gathered some unexpected
intelligence on CANF. It came from a reliable source: Ramon Saul Sanchez, the
leader of the Democracy Movement. Rene Gonzalez, who had penetrated Democracy,
had received the information at a meeting of the group's senior members.
Gonzalez met Hernandez at the Piccadilly Restaurant at NW 23rd Avenue and West
Flagler Street to pass him the diskette containing his report. Hernandez would
then relay it to Havana along with his own conclusions. Dated March 27, 1997,
Gonzalez's message read: "A bit of news was given which Saul asked to be
kept secret. It is about Mas Canosa, who has terminal cancer, and, according to
Saul, they don't think he will make it to the end of the year." Gonzalez
added that another Democracy member, Marcelino Garcia, told him that as a result
of the illness, there was conflict among Roberto Martin Perez and other senior
CANF members over who would take charge.
Gonzalez was ever wary of exile trickery, though. "I took this news
with some reservations, besides the goodness it would do to humanity if a guy
like Mas Canosa would disappear," he said. Gonzalez suggested that Mas
Canosa might be faking the illness as part of a stratagem in which he would
undergo a miraculous healing to rally political support. "In doing that
they could gain sympathy among the people," he explained, "who would
see God's hand and the power of prayer, et cetera, et cetera." Hernandez
found his comrade's hypothesis a little far-fetched and told Havana so. He
suspected Mas Canosa truly was sick. "Castor [Gonzalez] said that maybe
this was "pig head's' propagandistic strategy, being tremendously sly. I
gave him my opinion that one cannot doubt anything coming from Mas Canosa, but I
don't think he's going to get into a story of that kind. And I actually think
that if there is smoke, it's because there is fire." But he noted they were
in agreement about one thing: "We united our "faith' in a brief mental
"prayer' that the news about the cancer is true, and we hope it cuts him in
four pieces as soon as possible. Amen."
When Mas Canosa died eight months later, it was time to target CANF members
with one of Havana's own secret weapons: a flyer. It read as follows.
Who are you voting for as Chairman of the CANF? For Jorge Mas Santos?
He isn't interested in politics. His mother doesn't want him to assume
leadership of the CANF. He doesn't have his father's charisma. He's
not fluent in Spanish
For Dr. Alberto Hernandez?
His extramarital relations don't allow him any time for politics. His
most valuable distinction is that he was Jorge Mas' doctor. His health is
deteriorating.
For Pepe Hernandez?
He's a loser. He's under FBI surveillance because he's sloppy.
He's not accepted by members of the CANF. He has no leadership charisma.
Annexationist Has prostate cancer.
For Diego Suarez?
Conversationalist (even with the enemy) He has little life left
For Domingo Moreira?
Don Domingo Moreira has prestige but you can't inherit that. He
doesn't have charisma to direct the powerful CANF.
Who should you vote for? Vote for Finado [Finado is Spanish for "dead
person']
The Wasp Network also reflected on ways to thwart Ninoska Perez, the CANF
spokeswoman and host of a local AM radio show on which she rails against Castro
and takes calls from listeners who rail some more. Hernandez was especially
incensed about some right-wing high jinx: She'd phone Havana, sweet-talk a
government official for a moment, and then excoriate him or her for supporting a
brutal dictator. "On a couple of occasions, I sent my evaluations on how
... one could do harm [to] or neutralize in some way the counterrevolutionary
actions that originate here," Hernandez typed to the Directorate of
Intelligence. "I am referring specifically to the telephone calls made by
the radio stations to talk to the "dissidents' from over there and the
calls from Ninoska Perez trying to be funny.... She's gotten a lot of publicity
here for making fun of many incidents as well as government agencies, including
[former foreign minister Roberto] Robaina." Hernandez suggests that when
Cuban officials are interviewed by Miami-based media, they note that the Cuban
government earns money from phone calls originating in the United States. "We
might be able to create a negative state of opinion about this fat son of a
bitch [gorda h.p., in the original Spanish]. We might not be able to stop the
calls, but we could cause some long-range or medium-range damage." He then
writes he was pleased to hear rival Miami radio talk show host Francisco Aruca
make the point on his show. "To my satisfaction [he] said that he had
listened to two of Ninoska's calls that must have left the government of Cuba
with $200, and that if he were Fidel Castro, he would tell all of his officials
to talk a whole lot with that woman."
Hernandez's analysis of the counterrevolutionary prankster, though, led him
to a radical idea: The guardians of the revolution could stand have more of a
sense of humor. He informed his bosses that on this side of the Florida Straits,
Cuban officials come across as "serious, schematic, and dogmatic, who are
easy to make fun of and don't make fun of anyone. I think a little good humor
and spark on the part of some of our comrades at the time of sparring,
especially with the media in Miami, would go a long way."
But Gerardo Hernandez didn't find it very funny when he ran into a former
CIA agent and "CANF terrorist" one day. Hernandez had been in the
process of buying a VCR at the Costco supermarket on Biscayne Boulevard in North
Miami Beach and was wheeling a shopping cart along when he came face to face
with none other than Felix Rodriguez, the man credited with killing Che Guevara.
Like Basulto and Posada, Rodriguez was one of Castro's wiliest foes in the
early years of the revolution. After Cuban government troops crushed the April
1961 Bay of Pigs invasion, Rodriguez escaped to the Venezuelan embassy. He then
joined the CIA and helped Bolivian troops track down Che in 1965 in Bolivia,
where the Argentine doctor and Cuban revolutionary hero was killed shortly after
his capture. In 1985 Rodriguez fought Castro indirectly on another battlefield,
supervising secret supply flights to the Nicaraguan contras, an operation
directed by White House aide Lt. Col. Oliver North. One of the men who helped
Rodriguez was Luis Posada Carriles.
"Upon crossing each other's path, we looked at each other, and I knew
it was him," Hernandez wrote in a message to Delgado, the intelligence
chief in Havana. "He was wearing a green jacket, the kind photographers or
journalists wear.... Since I was on my way to the cash register at the time when
we crossed each other, I didn't want to continue walking around inside the
store, because all the references we have about this person is that he is pretty
shrewd and furthermore somewhat paranoid. For that reason I paid for what I had
bought, and I went to the part of the building where the food court area is
located, which is exactly in front of the registers, and one can see everybody
when they are coming to pay on their way out." Hernandez noted that six
minutes later, Rodriguez appeared in a checkout line.
"It took me a couple of minutes to finish my ice cream, and I left
heading toward some telephone booths that are at the entrance to the left. I
pretended to be talking on the phone with the beeper in my hand, as if I was
answering a page." He observed Rodriguez exit with his shopping cart and
push it to a gray Mercedes-Benz with tinted windows. "He placed the things
he had bought inside the trunk. And immediately he did something which seems to
me was a sign of countersurveillance. Usually people [after emptying their
shopping cart] leave it right there, or maybe the more conscientious people take
the cart a little bit toward the building. Nevertheless he did the opposite.
What he did was to take it further away (about five meters) in the opposite
direction of the store with no logical justification at all. He did it in such a
way that, on his way back, he had the entire panoramic view in front of him,
with complete control of the view of the entrance of the store along with the
view of all the people who could have come out behind him. I had to have been in
this view since I was at the telephone booths." Hernandez noted the license
plate number.
The message continues with Hernandez's analysis of the encounter. "The
subject was alone. Nevertheless we must emphasize that because of the
characteristics of the jacket he was wearing, it is perfectly possible that he
could have been armed." He concludes that Rodriguez didn't suspect him
because of the way he drove off. "He could have made a turn, even though
it's a little illogical, allowing him to not show the back part of his car
(including the license plate) toward the area where I was.... This is all for
now. You can imagine what it feels like to have a guy so close who is such an
SOB and who owes us such a big debt."
Intelligence on the Democracy Movement and its leader, Ramon Saul Sanchez,
required more copious writing than was needed for other exile groups and forced
the Wasp Network to stretch the limits of its training. In the past Sanchez had
advocated violence against the Castro government; in the early Eighties he led
the Organization for the Liberation of Cuba, which supposedly ran missions to
the island. But after spending four and a half years in prison for refusing to
testify to a grand jury investigating the assassination of a Cuban diplomat in
New York, Sanchez adopted a strategy of peaceful protest.
According to the Wasp Network files, Havana was particularly concerned about
Sanchez's potential to bring his unique brand of anti-Castro propaganda to Cuban
shores. In a message dated February 25, 1997, special agent (and Democracy
member) Gonzalez reviewed a flotilla that had taken place a day earlier to Cuban
waters to commemorate the victims of the Brothers to the Rescue shootdown a year
earlier. Fifteen planes accompanied the boats. Basulto, Sanchez, and Gonzalez
were among those who had flown. Everything had gone smoothly. "The
atmosphere was full of optimism and satisfaction," he reported after a
meeting of Democracy leaders at the group's office in a strip mall at SW Eighth
Street and 81st Avenue. But he had some vexing new intelligence. A call from
someone in Cuba had come into the office. It was Lazaro Cabrera, a member of a
group called the Alianza Republicana de Cuba, who had been arrested for
activities on the island that coincided with the flotilla. "He painted a
very upbeat picture, saying that everything had gone perfectly in Cuba,"
Gonzalez began. "He said that all the masses took place and that people had
gone to the Malecón to throw flowers [into the sea]. He said the people's
morale was very high and that everyone knew about what Democracy was doing, that
Democracy was the strongest sounding force in Cuba."
It became more unsettling. Cabrera then said that while in detention he was
visited by Cuban Vice President Carlos Lage. "He said Lage told him ...
that the Cuban government understood that Democracy was a movement of decent
people, but that they were wearing down the government at a time when the
country was trying to survive. According to Lazaro, Lage practically begged him
to understand." Gonzalez said the Democracy leaders concluded that the
Cuban government might want to hold a dialogue to discuss the flotillas. He
seemed befuddled: "This will be all regarding what Lazaro said. You should
know if he's crazy, looking for a visa, or is one of us."
Several months later, however, Gonzalez was reporting intelligence more to
his liking. In September Democracy was considering leasing a cruise ship that
would steam along the northern shore of Cuba just before Christmas. The cruise
would feature a Willy Chirino concert and a laser show sending messages of peace
into the sky.
He suggested a novel form of sabotage: "We could begin filling out and
sending back forms expressing an interest in going, which in turn would exceed
all expectations." Gonzalez suggested to Hernandez the Wasp Network could
fax in 200 forms, with each one pledging three bogus participants committed to
paying for the cruise. "Perhaps names could be taken from the phone book at
random and used to fill out the forms," he continued. Then, as the day of
the cruise approached and Democracy leaders attempted to collect money from the
participants, they would realize they didn't have enough to fill the ship and
would have to cancel. Hernandez rejected his comrade's proposal, saying it would
require too much work, and the faxes could be traced. The cruise, as it turned
out, never took place.
In a November 1997 report to Hernandez, Gonzalez reported "discord"
and "demoralization" in the Democracy Movement. Gonzalez provided
details from a meeting led by Sanchez and attended by about twenty people at the
Democracy office. The organization also was in financial trouble, he wrote. It
had to remove one of its boats from a marina because it couldn't make dockage
payments. A woman who had sold the group a boat was threatening to sue because
it had not yet paid her. A two-hour dispute over the validity of an election
three months earlier of the group's executive board pushed the meeting past
midnight.
"This is where the movement currently stands. These people have no
goals, without definite objectives, and no concrete plans," agent Gonzalez
concluded. "Even though one cannot underestimate Saul's perseverance, the
Democracy Movement is wounded and can die if urgent measures are not taken,
which I'm not really sure Saul will [provide], given his behavior at the
meeting. He appears to be very susceptible to what anyone says. This prevents
him from using his leadership at times such as these." Gerardo Hernandez
added his analysis, describing Democracy as "largely geriatric and senile,"
and he sent the intelligence to Havana.
©2001 New Times, Inc. |