“Sustained.”
“What else didn’t you think of until Mr. Swyteck asked the question? Lieutenant Johnson’s convenient arrival at the murder scene on the morning of Captain Pintado’s death, perhaps?”
The witness waited for the translation, then said, “I don’t understand.”
“Not important. I’m sure the jury does.”
“Objection.”
“Sustained. Let’s have some questions, Mr. Torres.”
“Yes, Your Honor. Private Castillo, I noticed that Mr. Swyteck didn’t spend much time covering your job description. So let me ask you a few questions about that. You’re part of a unit that conducts surveillance over the naval base at Guantánamo, is that correct?”
“Yes, generally.”
“It’s your job to keep track of what’s going on inside the base?”
“Yes.”
“And it’s also your job to keep track of anyone trying to enter the base, right?”
“Trying to enter the base?” he said, confused.
“Let me clarify that. There is some distance between the perimeter of the U.S. naval base and the area occupied by Cuban forces, is there not?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And the Cuban government has placed many obstacles in that area, isn’t that right?”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“There are razor-wire fences in that area, aren’t there?”
“Yes.”
“There’s even a mine field in there, right?”
“Yes.”
“Those obstacles were put there to prevent ordinary Cubans from reaching the base and seeking freedom on U.S. soil.”
“I don’t think I understand.”
“I think you do. Isn’t it true that an important part of your job is to keep ordinary Cubans from reaching freedom?”
“Objection,” said Jack.
“Sustained,” said the judge, but the damage was done. He’d driven home the point that the witness was the enemy-one of Castro’s goons who was instrumental in keeping families in exile from being united with the families they left behind in Cuba.
Torres said, “Now, let me ask you about these sexual relations you observed at the Pintado household. Earlier, you said that you saw the defendant cheating on her husband.”
“Objection,” said Jack. “I think we’ve raised a serious question as to whether it was ‘cheating’ or not, Your Honor.”
“Rephrase the question, please,” said the judge.
“You observed the defendant having sex with Lieutenant Johnson.”
“Yes.”
“And as Mr. Swyteck’s objection just suggested, you are trying to imply that there was some kind of weird threesome going on here.”
“I’m not trying to do anything but tell you what I saw.”
“Oh, please, sir. You’re here today to bring shame on the Pintado family and to embarrass Fidel Castro’s archenemy in exile, Alejandro Pintado.”
“Objection.”
“Sustained. Questions, please, Mr. Torres.”
The prosecutor stepped closer to the witness, his tone growing more aggressive. “You know that the victim’s father is Alejandro Pintado, do you not?”
“Yes, I’m aware of that.”
“You know who Alejandro Pintado is, don’t you?”
“I’ve heard his name.”
“He’s one of the most vocal members of the anti-Castro exile community, isn’t he, sir?”
“If you say so.”
“No, it’s not what I say. It’s what you know. You know exactly who Alejandro Pintado is, don’t you, sir?”
“I know he’s been very vocal against our government.”
“Yes, you know that. And you wouldn’t be here today if the victim’s father weren’t so vocal in his opposition to Fidel Castro, would you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Private Castillo, is it not true that Cuban regulations prohibit members of the military from obtaining exit visas until their compulsory service is completed?”
The witness did a double take upon the translation, as if he were surprised by the prosecutor’s awareness of that restriction. “Yes, that’s true.”
“So, you’re in this courtroom only because someone made a very important exception under the laws and regulations of Cuba.”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s be honest, sir. You’re here today only because Fidel Castro wants you here.”
Jack considered an objection, but Torres already had the jurors in his hand, and no objection at this point was going to wrest them free from his control.
The witness shrugged and said, “I suppose.”
“Thank you,” the prosecutor said smugly. “That’ll do it.”
39
Jack met with Theo over the lunch break. He would have preferred to stay at the courthouse with Lindsey and Sofia, but Theo claimed to have something of ball-busting importance to talk about. A handful of protestors marched up and down the sidewalk outside the courthouse. Jack donned his darkest shades-six-dollar specials, the kind so cheap that you were guaranteed never to lose them-hoping not to be recognized as he made a quick dash for Theo’s car at the corner.
“Whassup?” said Theo as Jack piled into the passenger seat.
Jack didn’t actually hear him, just saw his lips move. The stereo was loud enough to shatter fine crystal, a mind-numbing blast of so-called music, one of the many kinds that Theo liked, one of the few that made Jack wonder how the two of them were actually friends. Jack switched it off.
“How do you listen to that crap?” said Jack.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing, if you like songs where the most commonly rhymed words end with U-C-K.”
“Like the world needs another fucking song about taking a little chance, doing a little dance, and finding a little romance.”
Jack considered it. Maybe the guy had a point. Maybe.
“Got you some lunch,” said Theo as he handed it to him.
“Thanks,” said Jack, unwrapping it. “What it is?”
“The Felipe Castillo special.”
Jack chewed off the corner of his Cuban sandwich-slices of ham, pork, cheese, and pickles on Cuban bread, pressed together with a sandwich iron. “Very funny, Theo.”
“How’d it go this morning?” asked Theo.
“I don’t know. I think it might have been a mistake to put him on the stand at all.”
“You’re probably right.”
“You think?”
“Oh, yeah. Bad mistake, Jacko. Right up up there with Napoleon charging into Waterloo, Hitler turning his tanks against Russia, Dustin Hoffman going to see Elaine’s portrait.”
“Dustin Hoffman what?”
“The Graduate, dumbshit. You know, when Mrs. Robinson asks Benji if he would like to go upstairs and see her daughter’s-”
“I saw the flick. You equate a movie with a military decision that was probably the turning point of World War Two?”
“No. But I don’t think a Cuban soldier in Miami is in the category of earth-shattering, either. So get some perspective.”
“Do you live to see me scratch my head? Is that what makes you tick?”
The car stopped at the traffic light. It was a ride to nowhere, just cruising around the block long enough to hold a completely private conversation before Jack returned to court. Theo looked at Jack and said, “I’m making some headway on your Mustang.”
Jack opened his bag of chips. “You kidding me?”
His expression was deadpan. “I kid about sex. I kid about death. I kid about everything. Except cars.”
“What’d you find out?”
“I found the guy who did it. Some little weasel. Not even Cuban. Couldn’t give a shit about Castro.”
“Then why did he burn my car and write ‘Castro lover’ on the pavement?”
“Because somebody told him to. Hired him to, I should say.”
“Who?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“He wouldn’t tell you?”
“He would have, if he knew. It was a very thorough interrogation. The guy still couldn’t give me a name.”
Jack winced at the thought of a “thorough” investigation. Better not to know. The traffic light changed, and Theo turned the corner back toward the courthouse.
“So what’s your take?” said Jack. “Some anti-Castro group hired him through a go-between? Tried to scare me into not bringing the Cuban soldier into the courtroom?”