-Caveat Lector-

--- In [EMAIL PROTECTED], Agent Smiley <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:

copied from http://www.cubanet.org/CNews/y01/feb01/01e10.htm

Cuban Missive Crisis

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 Laba�ino 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," Laba�ino 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: Laba�ino, 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, Jos�
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 Guant�namo. 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 Alvari�o
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 Alvari�o 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 Malec�n 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.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Cowfree 21st Century
http://www.rangebiome.org/cowfree/
Wildfire For Profit?
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/psy-op/message/10248
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http://www.freethefive.org


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