April 3, 2012
It’s late at
night and I am sitting at my desk after a busy day. It began in a courtroom in
the city of Vallejo, half-way between Sacramento and San Francisco. I represent
clients who have brought a civil suit against men who my clients believe have
breached an agreement. The defendants are represented by counsel. The court is
somber; rules are in place to govern the proceedings. The doors are unlocked
and unguarded and open to anyone who cares to watch or listen to the
questioning and responses. Documents are stamped and a court stenographer is
there to record every word that is spoken.
At the
conclusion of the morning session, I left the courthouse and walked across the
street toward my car. I was stopped at the corner by a poorly-dressed woman in
her late fifties or early sixties. She was with her forty-something son. She
saw me clothed in a suit, carrying a box of documents and asked if I was a
lawyer. When I affirmed that I was, she shoved a piece of paper into my hand.
“We’re confused and don’t know what to do.” I examined the paper. It was a
minute order releasing her son after an arraignment. The criminal charge was
identified numerically. The numbers meant nothing to me other than it was a
penal code violation. I called my office and asked my assistant to check the
statute and read me the law. In seconds, I learned that her son was charged
with felony child endangerment. I asked the woman what she was confused about.
She replied that her son was told he earns too much for a public defender and
that he didn’t understand the charges. She offered to hire me on the spot. I
explained that my practice is limited to civil law, and her son needs a
criminal defense attorney. Attached to the minutes she had handed me was a slip
of paper with the county bar’s lawyer referral service. I told her to call the
number listed and they would refer her son to a criminal defense firm.
Why is this of
concern? Tonight, I browsed through the postings on Translating Cuba to see
what has been going on in Havana in the wake of the Pope’s visit. Among the
comments was the following posting. Reading it made me appreciate the
constitutional due process that we enjoy in the U.S. My own clients’ rights to
seek justice are well defined and not subject to the caprice of the executive
branch of government. The poor woman who I met outside worried about her son,
had the opportunity to make sure that her son’s rights were protected. While he
had been charged with a crime, he had been released on bail after a public
hearing during which charges had been read, although not well understood by the
defendant, and he had access to an attorney’s services through the local bar
association.
Ninety miles
south of Florida, none of the above is possible. Danilo Maldonado, the author
of the posting below, reports of his experience with police and jail as a
result of doing absolutely nothing other than having expressed his views about
the government. He was jailed without charges pending. No one offered him a
lawyer or the chance to bring a writ of habeas
corpus. Our system of government has many faults, some quite grievous and
which cry out for revision. However imperfect, our democracy and others like it
provide safety nets that others only dream of having. We are approaching the
Jewish holy days of Passover, a time when the story of the exodus from Egypt by
the Israelites is re-told each year. The Israelites were transformed from
slaves to a free people—a rebirth of a people. It is an observance that
underscores the importance of human freedom. The Easter holy day is another
story of rebirth that is celebrated by Christians everywhere. Modern Pharaohs
such as the Castro brothers have had their day. I hope that the lessons of
Passover and Easter will someday soon manifest themselves in the story of
rebirth for troubled Cuba. The story you will read below illustrates that it
has a long way to go before the day of freedom arrives on that island.
They Kidnapped Me Again/El Sexto
by Danilo Maldonado Machado
(http://translatingcuba.com/?p=17252)
In these days of waiting for the Pope, everything around me is
tense. I start to leave my phone at home. They followed me from before the
presentation of Voices Magazine Number 14. But it is only persecution; at least
they want you to think [that].
Occasionally I can slip out among my friends and shake off the
guard.
Although it is
a super uncomfortable situation and full of stress, it’s already so common for
me to be followed by them I’m not afraid and can shout at them, things like
dogs, snitches, pawns, and so on.
I got used to
it and, as my ex says, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
It was Sunday,
March 26, my sister Indira’s birthday, and seeing State Security was barely 20
yards from my door, I didn’t want to leave the house. I took it as a threat not
to leave. But they slept outside all night and that worried me a lot and I felt
some fear.
The next day,
March 27 at 1:00 pm I saw them at the corner of my house with cardboard in the
windows of the car, so that the sun doesn’t bother them, I think. It was the
same red car as the day before. I had to go out to make a phone call, I did, in
shorts, a shirt and sandals, heading away from them. I’d barely walked 15 yards
when I could sense them starting up the car around the corner.
They came up
behind me, grabbed me by force and shoved me inside the car between two guys
dressed in civilian clothes. Car rules: Hands between the feet and eyes
forward! They snatched the phone out of my hands.
DO NOT TURN IT
OFF! they said.
The car with
three officers took me to Vedado, 26th and 17th, where they stopped, made calls
on their cell phones, and in 5 minutes a Suzuki motorcycle and the usual
“persecution car” showed up (a green Lada make with private license plates):
with that Camilo. On the way he told me, “Today you’re playing Capablanca [the
grandmaster] at chess.” Driving down Boyeros Avenue you could see all the
“makeup” they’d applied, for obvious reasons.
When they
transferred me to the cells I saw a man dressed in black, a gentleman I would
come to know later, it was Julio, the husband of Sara Marta, Lady in White,
opponents from Rio Verde. As we were not in the same cell we were talking from
a distance. He told me that he had seen me on the Estado de Sats program, and
that he’d been there since Friday with eating or drinking water (a hunger
strike). I was just starting my time and I felt bad already, but being locked
up there for no reason gave me strength. Julio told me his wife had also been
kidnapped and he thought they had taken her to Cotorro incommunicado.
The next day
opponents became to arrive from the Santiago de las Vegas police station, all
on hunger strike: 14 in total, including 3 women whom I only sensed and heard
their voices. Those of us there had opinions in common. The chorus of
“Freedom!” became so strong we were encouraged to also shout “Down with the
Dictatorship,” “Down with Raul,” “Long Live Human Rights”…
The police
asked up please, if we wanted we could shout, but not to go near the bars. For
us they were invisible. I met Bartolo, El Deje, all very affable and I felt
find, because we talked as if we’d known each other all our lives.
The registered
me as a criminal: many photos of my body and finger prints and something odd:
the shoe size.
The next day I
felt dizzy. I asked Julio how he felt and he said fine. I was taken to the
doctor who tested my sugar, which was low as was my blood pressure. The doctors
were worried, telling me, “You don’t have the physical strength to do this.
Eat!” Nor am I a murderer, but I am here because you want me to be, I answered.
On returning from the exam I gave to alcohol swab to Julio, he shook my hand
but I felt he was sick.
In the evening
I left the dungeon. There were about 20 patrol cars outside the station.
Coincidentally Julio and I were put in the same car and they transported us.
The order was to leave us a few blocks from our respective houses. He got out
at Boyeros, near Mazorra, and I at Arroyo Arenas.
They gave me my
phone and there were no texts or missed calls. When it rang it was the wife of
Ismael de Diego, I told her I was already out. She told me that when she called
my phone, an officer answered.
This is my
humble testimony. I don’t people who had it a lot worse. The government should
avoid and fear these hunger strikes in chains… Lest they kill more innocents
and fall into the muck once and for all. I hope the world learns of all the
kidnappings and sees behind the false image this tyranny wants to give to the
Pope and the foreign press.
Down with the
Castros! Down with Communism!
