Me, the FBI and the documents… take 33
David M. Hardy
Section Chief
Record Information Dissemination Section
Records Management Division
FBI
Washington, DC
Dear David M. Hardy,
Imagine my excitement when I received your recent letter in which you informed me that those FBI files you had previously said didn't exist actually did. Four hundred and nine pages, to be exact, of which you were prepared to release 407 of them to me.
Hard copy or CD, you asked?
CD please, I replied.
As you may recall, our ongoing, never-ending correspondence began in May 2010 when I first requested copies of “all reports, correspondence, memos, notes, emails and other records concerning a meeting between a delegation from the FBI and Cuban State Security in Havana in June 1998. My understanding is that the meeting itself took place from June 15-17, but I am also seeking any material relating to preparations for this meeting as well as follow-up from it for the period from May 1, 1998 to September 15, 1998.”
During those meetings, as you know, Cuba claims it handed over documents identifying dozens of U.S.-based individuals and groups involved in countless specific incidents of terrorism against Cuba—documents they have since kindly provided to me.
When I asked for American documents relating to these same meetings, you initially wrote back to say there were no such documents. None. At all.
That struck me as strange, so I wrote back to ask you to check again. You did. Still nothing.
I wrote again. Surely, I suggested, there must at least be a few hotel napkin notes, the odd expense voucher.
Well, you replied finally, yes, indeed, there might be a few scraps of paper. But you couldn't give them to me because, you see, there are ongoing investigations and releasing this sensitive material might compromise "pending or prospective" judicial proceedings "pursuant to 5 U.S.C. § 552(b)(7)(A)."
Odder still. What proceedings? The Cuban Five, as you know, were all convicted in 2001. The U.S. Supreme Court refused to hear the appeal of their convictions in 2009. And those meetings in Havana in 1998 weren't even about the Five, whose criminal case was not yet even a gleam in an FBI agent’s eye at that time.
The meetings were about the nefarious activities that U.S.-based terrorists like Luis Posada Carriles had been plotting and carrying out against Cuba. It is true the U.S. did finally, belatedly, prosecute Posada—not for blowing up that Cuban airplane in 1976, killing all 73 passengers, or for that string of bombings at Havana hotels in 1997 that killed an Italian-Canadian businessman but… wait for it…—for lying on an immigration form in 2005. And he was acquitted! (How did that happen anyway?)
Since then, there’s not been the slightest hint the FBI has any further interest in investigating Posada or any one else named in the Cuban documents.
So what “pending or prospective” cases were you referring to?
Patience and persistence being virtues I have come to depend on in our correspondence, I wrote you again on May 23, 2011.
"I'm sure if you rummage through the material I requested," I wrote, "you’ll discover at least a few scraps of paper that won’t compromise any ongoing investigations or pending prosecutions. Perhaps there’s an email outlining the background to the decision to send the FBI delegation to Havana in the first place. Or maybe a report—potential indictees’ names redacted—on whether the trip was worth it. How about a few receipts for meals, or a night on the town at the Tropicana? Given that the Cubans claimed one of the exile plots involved setting off explosives at the nightclub, that would certainly have been a legitimate expense."
Many months later, you wrote again to say that—Abracadabra! Sha-zam! Ka-boom!—“material was located pursuant to your request for information concerning Cuban State Security and FBI meeting in Havana (June 1998). Enclosed is a processed copy of the FBI Headquarters file 95D-HQ-1255131 and FBI Miami Field Office file 2-MM-89519-NC.”
Excitedly, I slipped the CD into my computer. There were two files: “FBI FOIA Relase (sic) Section 1 (1042207).pdf” and “FBI FOIA Release 1150092-003 Section 1 (1042747).pdf.”
The first—a small file containing only 129 kilobytes—consisted of two documents from the FBI lab in Washington, which essentially showed that, on June 18, 1998, an FBI examiner (NAME REDACTED) had examined three explosives samples and four electric detonators provided by the Cubans. By themselves, the report concluded, the items were not very helpful—largely because Dupont, the most likely manufacturer of the detonators, produced 50 million of them a year and they were “exported all over the world.”
Unfortunately, I already had copies of these documents since they’d been introduced as evidence during the trial of Luis Posada in 2010 and were, therefore, public.
But thanks for thinking of me.
Ever hopeful, I opened File #2, which seemed—at 37.2 MB—more promising.
Alas. With the exception of a potentially intriguing two-page memo dated July 16, 1998 and titled REDACTED (except for a couple of tag-on subjects: ACT OF TERRORISM, NEUTRALITY MATTERS-CUBA; 00: MIAMI).
In the memo, the author, NAME REDACTED (visible last letters “r-l-o”), asks “that the following subfiles be opened.” Most of the titles of the subfolders, however, are blanked out with the exceptions of “Laboratory reports,” “FD-302s, inserts” and “Newspaper clippings.”
Ah, yes, newspaper clippings.
The remaining 400 pages of the file you sent me contained nothing except newspaper clippings, some of them quite recent (including from the immigration fraud case against Luis Posada) and therefore outside the scope of what I’d asked from. There were also stories from 1990s from the Miami Herald, El Nuevo Herald, Orlando Sun-Sentinel, TIME, AP, CNN, ABC, La Prensa, Ann Louise Bardach’s website, Granma International, the official Cuban news agency, even a Cuban Ministry of the Interior press release.
There were four different copies of the same July 1997 New York Times series in which Luis Posada not only claimed credit for setting off those bombs in Havana hotels and killing Fabio DiCelmo—wrong place, wrong time; “I sleep like a baby”—but also insisted he was funded by the Cuban American National Foundation, the most influential exile lobby group in the United States.
Incredible, don’t you think, that the FBI never managed to connect the dots from the bombs to Posada to the Foundation? Or perhaps they weren’t really looking.
But I digress.
I do appreciate the newspaper clippings—I would have appreciated them more if you’d sent them before I spent close to $1,000 downloading copies from the Miami Herald and other news databases—but this still isn’t what I was looking for.
So… I really hate to do this, but I’m appealing again.
Can you look one more time—open a few drawers if you have to this time—and find all those “reports, correspondence, memos, notes, emails and other records concerning a meeting between a delegation from the FBI and Cuban State Security in Havana in June 1998.”
Yours in patience and persistence,
Stephen Kimber
Copyright 2012 Sting of the Wasp: The Cuban Five Connection
Looking for loopholes in El Paso
Cuba's Granma newspaper says Luis Posada Carriles' lawyers are trying to use a legal loophole to prevent the court from hearing key evidence in his case.
Posada, the alleged mastermind of both the 1976 bombing of Cubana Airlines Flight 455 and also the 1997 Havana hotel bombing campaign, is scheduled to go on trial at the Federal Court in El Paso, Texas, in January 2011 on immigration-related charges.
Bombed Aché disco in Havana.
He's accused of lying in his 2005 application for asylum in the U.S. when he claimed he wasn't involved in the hotel bombing campaign. Those attacks resulted in the death of an Italian-Canadian businessman and injuries to dozens of others.
Prosecutors had intended to use evidence originally gathered in Cuba in connection with the attacks as part of its case but the defence is now arguing that material should be excluded because an earlier court order required such evidence be turned over to the court before December 1, 2009.
The defence claims it won't have time to consider that evidence before the January trial.
Ironically, Posada is not charged with organizing the bombing campaign—a terrorist act—but merely of lying about his involvement—a lesser charge.
Copyright 2010 Sting of the Wasp: The Cuban Five Connection
Field Notes 4: Truth, lies and the Cuban American National Foundation
My goal in writing “Sting of the Wasp: The Cuban Five Connection” is to stick to the facts, reconstructing key events of the case in order to produce an in-the-moment narrative that will help readers understand the true story of what really happened even as it entertains them.
But whose facts? Whose truth? Those are especially tricky questions in a story such as the Cuban Five, which is fraught with emotion, ideology and vested interests.
Everyone is selling their own version of the facts, and everyone insists theirs is the only true one.
Let’s look at just one example.
Jorge Mas Canosa
On September 10, 1997, when Cuban State Security announced the arrest of Salvadoran mercenary Raúl Cruz León for planting a bomb in the Copacabana Hotel that killed an Italian tourist, it added a stunning accusation: “The investigation revealed, without any doubt, that the operations were carefully planned and executed from Miami by a subversive organization controlled by the Cuban American National Foundation headed by counterrevolutionary leader Jorge Mas Canosa.”
The Cuban American National Foundation is the richest and most influential Cuban exile organization in the United States. Both its critics and its supporters would agree CANF played a central role in determining—and maintaining—America’s hard-line policies toward Cuba. Mas Canosa himself was one of Miami’s most respected businessmen, a confidant of American presidents from Ronald Reagan to Bill Clinton.
Canosa with Bill Clinton
CANF, not surprisingly, denied Havana’s allegations; such charges, it said, were so ludicrous as to be “not worthy of a serious response.”
But, a year-and-a-half later, at Cruz León’s trial, the Cubans upped the ante. One of the trial’s key witnesses was a State Security agent named Percy Alvarado Godoy who claimed to have infiltrated CANF in the early nineties.
According to his testimony, senior CANF officials had set up a secret paramilitary wing of the organization at a meeting in Naples, Florida, in 1992 specifically to carry out violent attacks against Cuba.
Percy Alvarado Godoy
Alvarado named names; he claimed he’d been recruited to act as an agent by Luis Zuñiga, a member of CANF’s executive board. He said that the organization’s president, Pepe Hernandez, had been his handler for a mission to plant a bomb inside Havana’s popular Tropicana Cabaret. Alvarado said the man who trained him to assemble the bombs and gave him the device to take to Cuba was none other than Luis Posada Carriles, the CIA-trained exile militant alleged to have been one of the masterminds of the 1976 bombing of Cubana Airlines Flight 455 that killed 73 people.
Again, the Cuban American National Foundation dismissed the allegations out of hand. As for Percy Alvarado? “If he had infiltrated [the Foundation],” spokesperson Ninoska Perez sniffed rhetorically, “you think he would go unnoticed? No one’s heard of him.”
And that’s the he-said-yes/he-said-no way the story played out for seven years.
But then, in June 2006, there was stunning confirmation of the Cuban version of events.
It came from the most unlikely source and for the least ideological of reasons.
Antonio “Toñin” Llama was not only a member of CANF’s board and inner circle but he was also a bona fide anti-Castro militant—with criminal charges to prove it. In 1998, he had been charged—and acquitted—in connection with a plot to assassinate Cuban President Fidel Castro.
That case, ironically, sowed the seeds for Llama’s discontent and his eventual decision to go public with what he knew about CANF’s secret paramilitary wing. Llama believed that CANF had reneged on a promise to cover his and his co-conspirators’ legal expenses. Worse, while he was on trial, some CANF members sold off $1.4 million worth of equipment he had personally financed on its behalf in preparation for the assault on Cuba.
In June 2006, Llama issued a public statement claiming he had been forced to file for bankruptcy because the bank, “which lent me part of the money to buy 10 airplanes, 8 ships and armaments” wanted its funds back. Llama called on CANF to “deliver the titles and assets that I bought and paid for the campaign that we carried out when I was a director, with the purpose of destabilizing Castro’s communist government.”
In a subsequent interview with El Nuevo Herald, Llama reported that the secret paramilitary project “started to take shape during CANF’s annual meeting in Naples in June 1992… About 20 of the foundation’s most trusted leaders agreed, and designated Jose ‘Pepe’ Hernandez, the current CANF president, and Mas Canosa to choose the armed group.”
In other words, Llama confirmed virtually everything Percy Alvarado and the Cubans had claimed seven years earlier.
By now CANF was—ever so slightly—more circumspect with its denials. Instead of denying the substance of what Llama had said, its spokesperson simply argued: “we consider that it is extremely irresponsible for a press organization to echo what clearly represents an extortion and defamation attempt.”
Whose facts?
Whose truth?
As the American writer Lillian Hellman once put it: “What a word is truth. Slippery, tricky, unreliable.”
Lies, however, are easier to spot.
***
If you'd like to see how this episode is portrayed in the book, you might be interested in reading this draft excerpt. The story will also be expanded in another section focusing on Percy Alvarado's testimony during Cruz León's trial.
Read more Field Notes.
Copyright 2010 Sting of the Wasp: The Cuban Five Connection
The ‘Gordito’ Connection
Francisco Chavez Abarca
Francisco Chavez Abarca—the Salvadoran man arrested at Caracas International Airport on Thursday (July 1, 2010) and accused of plotting to “provoke violence and destabilization” in the lead-up to Venezuela’s legislative elections in September—was one of the keys player in the 1997 Havana hotel bombing campaign orchestrated by anti-Castro militant Luis Posada Carriles.
Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez said Chavez Abarca will be turned over to Interpol and sent to Cuba where he is wanted in connection with a number of bombings in Cuba. He is also the prime suspect in an explosion at a Cuban government tourist office in Mexico City in May 1997.
Who is Chavez Abarca and what is his connection to the Havana hotel bombings affair?
Luis Posada Carriles
The following excerpt from Sting of the Wasp: The Cuban Five Connection (a nonfiction book-in-progress) helps connect the dots to Chavez Abarca from both Raúl Ernesto Cruz León—the Salvadoran currently in prison for planting the bomb that killed Di Celmo—and also Luis Posada Carriles, currently awaiting trial on the United States for immigration fraud but wanted in Venezuela and Cuba for his part in masterminding the 1976 Cubana Airlines bombing that killed 73 people , as well as the 1997 hotel bombings:
September 4, 1997
10:30 a.m.
“Bucanero.” The olive-skinned young man could have been any tourist in Havana. Raúl Ernesto Cruz León, a 26-year-old Salvadoran, was casually dressed in yellow polo shirt, shorts, sandals and a tan baseball cap. He carried a small blue backpack slung over his shoulder. To the bartender in the lobby bar of the Copacabana Hotel in the city’s Miramar district, Cruz León would certainly have seemed unremarkable. He nodded, turned and went to the fridge to get the tourist his beer.
Cruz León
Cruz León’s family and friends back in San Salvador also assumed he was vacationing in Cuba. Again. They’d been surprised in early July when he had unexpectedly announced his intention to travel to Havana the first time. They’d never even heard him mention Cuba before. He’d explained his sudden interest in the island as the result of the fact a friend had won a Cuban vacation but couldn’t go. The man had sold Cruz León his ticket at a bargain price.
When Cruz León told Yamilet, a 24-year-old Cuban acrobat at a Mexican circus where he worked—since 1994, Cruz León had spent his summers chauffeuring members of the troupe on their annual two-month tour of El Salvador—that he would be visiting her homeland in mid-July, she asked him to deliver a letter and some clothes to her sister in Havana.
Cruz León had returned with photographs of Yamilet’s sister. But not just of her sister. There were plenty of other pictures he’d taken on the beaches around Havana of other attractive young women in revealing swimsuits. “He talked about the beaches, the girls, the nice people, the girls again,” Richard Richard, another young Cuban acrobat, would joke later. Cruz León also brought back several boxes of Montecristos, the popular Cuban cigars, which he had handed out to friends in the weeks following his first visit.
That first trip appeared to have had a profound effect on Cruz León. He was so taken with Cuba’s beauty, he told his brother William, he planned to go back again as soon as he could afford it.
Even the bombs didn’t deter him. His brother had seen TV news reports about bombs going off in Havana hotels and asked Raúl about them. He acknowledged he’d witnessed one attack himself. He’d been frightened like the rest of the tourists, Raúl told his brother, but not so badly that he would consider not going back.
Cruz León didn’t tell his brother everything he knew about the explosions, or explain why he wasn’t afraid. Cruz León had planted the bombs at both the Hotel Nacional and the nearby Hotel Capri.
It had been remarkably easy to do. Just as his friend “Gordito” had told him it would be.
Cruz León had smuggled C-4, a malleable plastic explosive, into Cuba in his shoes. The security guards at Havana’s José Marti airport hadn’t bothered to check his shoes, and they hadn’t twigged to the real purpose of some of the other items in his luggage. The clocks and pocket calculators he’d claimed were gifts for Cuban friends, for example, were really elementary timing devices, while the highlighter pens contained the detonators he’d needed to set off the C-4.
Between visits to Yamilet’s sister and ogling the girls on the beaches, Cruz León done reconnaissance at the two hotels. On July 12, he returned to plant the devices. He armed the first bomb inside a washroom at the Capri, placed it beside a couch in the hotel lobby and escaped before it exploded. He then calmly walked two blocks down Calle 19 toward the Malécon and up the long, palm-lined entrance drive to the Hotel Nacional.
Designed by a famous New York architect, the eight-storey hotel—built on a bluff overlooking the seawall and Havana harbour—was Havana’s most famous hotel. Before the revolution, the Nacional had been a home away from home for an odd lot of international celebrities from Frank Sinatra and Mickey Mantle to Winston Churchill and the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, not to forget the American mobster Meyer Lansky, who became a part-owner in pre-revolution days and transformed an entire wing of its grand entrance hall into a bar, restaurant, showroom and high-rollers’ casino.
The casino, like Lansky, was long gone, but the elegance remained.
Cruz León placed his second timed-to-explode bomb under a couch in the Nacional’s lobby near the public telephones and was about to leave when he noticed a tourist sit down on the couch. “There’s a call for you at the desk,” he improvised. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. He’d told Gordito that. Gordito didn’t seem to care. Just make some noise, he’d said. Create some confusion.
It had worked. Cruz León retreated to a safe corner of the lobby to watch the bomb explode and savour the noise and confusion that followed. He’d even mingled with a group of tourists—joining them in their horrified recollections of what they’d all just witnessed—before slipping into the Havana sunshine soon after the police arrived.
Gordito would have been proud.
Gordito’s real name—he’d picked up his “Fatty” nickname because of his weight—was Francisco Antonio Chavez Abarca. He and Cruz León had become friends through Geo Rent A Car, the San Salvador rental agency Cruz León helped set up and where he sometimes worked. Chavez, one of Geo’s big-spending customers, had a penchant for the agency’s most expensive four-wheel drive luxury vehicles.
Chavez Abarca could afford it. Though he had no job anyone knew about, he was the son of a notorious local gangster, which meant he carried lots of cash and at least claimed to have links to influential people who could protect him from the police. Perhaps he did. According to police investigators, one of the reasons Gordito kept renting those luxury cars from Geo was so that his father could copy their documents and use them to turn stolen cars of the same make and model into apparently legal ones in order to sell them. At one point, the police investigated—seizing a gray BMW and a four-wheel drive Nissan, along with two pistols and a rifle—but didn't file criminal charges against father or son at the time.
The man really responsible for the fact Raul Cruz León was now sitting at the bar in the lobby of the Copacabana, his backpack stuffed with four plastic bags, each containing all the necessary pieces for one of the bombs he planned to detonate was Gordito’s father. Or, more accurately, one of his father’s friends.
“Gracias,” Cruz León said as the bartender placed the beer in front of him. He took a sip, put down the glass, walked through the lobby to the washroom.
Among his many criminal sidelines, Gordito’s father, Chavez Diaz, was an illegal arms dealer. During the 1980s, one of his customers had been a militant Cuban exile named Luis Posada. In the mid-eighties—after Posada escaped from a Venezuelan jail before he could be re-tried by a civilian court for his part in the world’s first incident of airplane terrorism, the October 1976 in-flight bombing of Cubana Airlines Flight 455 that killed 76 passengers—he had settled in El Salvador under the alias Ramon Medina Rodriguez.
Posada worked as a middleman for the CIA—an old employer—helping supply weapons to the Contras, a right-wing paramilitary group in neighbouring Nicaragua. The Contras were attempting to overthrow Nicaragua’s elected Sandinista government.
Chavez Diaz sold Posada weapons; Posada passed them on to his contacts who passed them on to the Contras.
In the mid-nineties, when Posada concocted his own scheme to bomb Havana hotels to destabilize Cuba’s fledgling tourist economy and hasten the collapse of communism, he discussed it with his friend, Chavez Diaz, who, in turn, discussed it with his son.
Gordito, in fact, carried the first bombs to Cuba. On April 13, 1997, one blast had ripped through a bathroom next to the Aché discotheque in Havana’s Melia Cohiba, a 20-storey hotel operated by the Spanish-based Melia chain and attracted the richest foreign tourists and business people. Although the explosion punched a huge hole in one wall, ripped out nearby stalls and shattered a marble sink countertop, the blast occurred shortly before dawn when no one was around, so no one was injured. But police later discovered—and disarmed—a second device hidden in a planter near an elevator on the hotel’s 15th floor.
Nothing to it, Gordito reassured Cruz León when he recruited him for his first mission. Gordito would take care of all the details: buying the airline tickets, arranging visas, fronting travel expense money. For every bomb Cruz León detonated, Gordito promised, he would earn close to $2,000 (U.S.).
But debt wasn’t his only motivator. Cruz León also loved dangers’ “rush of adrenalin.” He had grown up in the middle of a decade-long bloody civil war between El Salvador’s U.S.-backed military rulers and leftist insurgents that left 75,000 of his countrymen dead. Despite that—and his mother’s misgivings—Cruz León chose to enrol in the General Gerardo Barrios Military Academy, one of the country’s elite army training schools, in 1991. Less than a year later, after injuring his back in a fall, Cruz León’s mother finally convinced her son to accept a discharge she hoped would keep him safe. But he immediately signed up for training at another private military school. He dropped out a year later but then signed up for a civilian parachuting course. That adventure came to a crashing end—literally—when he broke his leg on only his third jump.
After he recovered, Cruz León landed a less dangerous job providing security on the sets of television programs being filmed around San Salvador. “Mostly,” his sister would recall, “he just kept girls from bothering the stars.” His easygoing nature brought him to the attention of Mario Villacorta, a local promoter who hired him to chauffeur visiting performers around town and, later, members of the circus troupe. Although those gigs were fun—he had amassed a collection of photos of himself with one-named Latin American singing sensations like Selena and Thalia—Cruz León was always looking for the bigger score.
That’s why he’d started the car rental business with a couple of ex-military school buddies. And why, if the police reports were true, he got involved in side ventures stealing cars and committing armed robberies.
All of which could explain how he’d come to be friends with Gordito. Whatever the reason, they began to spend a lot of time together, often at local shooting ranges where they would practice their marksmanship with paintball pellets.
After Cruz León returned from his first mission to Cuba, Gordito paid him $3,000 and promised he would get the rest after his next trip. Cruz León was eager to return, and not just for the money. ’‘I thought that I had accomplished a heroic mission,’‘ he would later say of the July bombings. “I thought it was an action against the evil.’‘
On August 31, Gordito drove Cruz León to the airport and helped him carry a heavy box to the check-in counter. Cruz León told the agent it contained a television set he was bringing to a friend in Cuba. The box did contain a TV, but it wasn’t for a friend, and the inside of the set was lined with C-4
Bombing aftermath
Now, inside the washroom at the CopaCabana, Cruz León reached into his backpack, removed one of the plastic bags, connected the pieces of a bomb, set the timer and returned to the lobby. He paused beside a standing metal cylinder ashtray and gently placed the bag inside, then he returned to the bar. He looked at his watch. He had more than enough time to finish his beer.
— FROM: Sting of the Wasp
A Nonfiction Book-in-Progress
SOURCES: Cruz León’s personal biography is drawn from a number of sources, the most comprehensive being three separate Miami Herald articles published on September 17, October 1, November 16, 1997. Cruz León himself was interviewed on Cuban television following his arrest and Cuban State Security filmed him re-enacting how he had placed the bombs at each location. He was also interviewed by the United Nations Special Rapporteur, who traveled to Cuba to investigate that country’s complaints about the 1997 bombing campaign. His report was published December 31, 1999. The description of Cruz León’s initial belief about his “heroic” role and the “adrenalin” rush he felt from planting the bombs come from several interviews he gave, including an August 6, 2005 interview from prison.
Copyright 2010 Sting of the Wasp: The Cuban Five Connection
Posada pre-pre-trial delayed yet again
An El Paso, Texas, judge has postponed until June 2, 2010, a scheduling conference with prosecution and defence lawyers to—finally—set a date for Luis Posada Carriles' trial on perjury charges. The prosecution claimed a "serious scheduling conflict" with the May 20th date. But as the Miami New Times noted: "Critics say the government is only trying to punt on the case because it threatens to divulge many classified documents that detail the old man's associations with the CIA and other American government agencies. Already, a big portion of the court records are under seal."
Luis Posada Carriles
Posada, 82, a militant anti-Castro Cuban exile, is widely considered to have been the mastermind behind the 1976 bombing of a Cubana Airlines flight that killed 73 people, as well as a 1997 terrorist bombing campaign in Havana that killed an Italian-Canadian tourist.
He won't attend the El Paso hearing. Posada's lawyers convinced the judge he is too old and too ill to travel by plane or car for a court appearance. Instead he will listen in on the proceedings by phone from Miami where he is currently living.
Ironically, though Posada isn't charged specifically with any of those crimes, the Texas case could provide judicial corroboration of his role in the 1997 attacks. The US government now alleges that Posada lied during immigration hearings—he'd illegally returned to the US in 2005—when he denied he was "involved in soliciting other individuals to carry out the bombings... in Cuba."
Given that the US failed to indict Posada for his role in the actual bombings—despite evidence provided by the Cuban government at the time, which ultimately led to the arrest and conviction of the Cuban Five rather than Posada or any of the plotters—the current case is bound to be controversial.
That may explain why, as the Miami Herald has reported, there has been an "unusual level of secrecy" surrounding the proceedings. At least 40 motions filed by various parties to the case have so far been ordered sealed from public scutiny.
Copyright 2010 Sting of the Wasp: The Cuban Five Connection
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About
This is the site for What Lies Across the Water: The Real Story of the Cuban Five, collected research and other materials for an in-progress narrative nonfiction book about the Cuban Five by Stephen Kimber.
The Cuban Five were members of "La Red Avispa"—the Wasp Network—spies Havana dispatched to Florida in the early 1990s to infiltrate militant anti-Castro exile groups that Cuba believed were plotting terrorist attacks on its soil. The Cuban Five were arrested, tried, convicted and sentenced to long prison terms in the United States.
In the United States, they are virtually unknown. In Cuba, they are heroes.
That’s the short version of the story. The long version is… well, more complicated... Stay tuned.
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