Justice in June

by Barbara Levenson

  “Well, Judge, we don’t have them. We tried to get them here, but we aren’t sure who has custody of them.” Santini looked at his shoes, and not at the judge.

  “You see, Your Honor, these lawyers in no way thought you would hold this hearing today. They made no preparations.”

  “Yes, I do see that, Counsel.” Judge Hammel frowned. “Please, continue with your questions.” He nodded in my direction.

  “Luis, what else happened on the plane?”

  “They took out my passport and all my papers, and started asking me what my real name was and where I was from. They looked at my reservation at the Floridian Inn and they were nodding to each other. They took turns watching me until we got to Miami. I figured everything would get cleared up once we were in Miami, but they took me off the plane in handcuffs and to the jail. I begged to call my parents or Paulina or our friends, the Martins. They said no phone calls for the enemy.”

  “How have you been treated during these weeks?”

  “I have been alone in a cell in different jails. They shaved off all my hair. Every few hours someone asks me the same questions over and over. Why am I here? Who sent me? What is my real name? I answer the truth and they hit me. They play loud music and have bright lights so I can’t sleep. I just don’t understand how this could happen to me, who never wants to hurt anyone.” Luis began to sob.

  I was fighting tears too. “Okay Luis. The government lawyers want to ask you questions now.” I sat down.

  Santini walked over and stood in front of Luis, but Judge Hammel told him to stay next to his own table. Luis was shaking.

  “Isn’t it a fact that you came to Miami with a plan to meet a known terrorist at the Floridian Inn?”

  “No, I don’t know any terrorists.”

  “Why did you try to start a fire on the airplane? Weren’t you just trying to terrorize the crew? Weren’t you trying to take over the plane?”

  “I have answered these same questions for days. All I wanted to do was smoke a cigarette after dinner. Now I am cured of smoking, I will never look at another cigarette.”

  “Gracias al los dios,” came a voice from the audience. I realized it was Maria. She had broken the tension in the courtroom. I saw that Judge Hammel was suppressing a laugh.

  “Now tell us the name of the people you were going to meet at the Floridian Inn,” Santini continued.

  “I expected to see the Martins, J.C. and his wife and their son, Carlos. They’re sitting right there.” Luis pointed to them. “My parents told me to be sure to invite them to dinner, and, of course, I was going to meet Paulina at her shop.”

  “I’m asking you about someone who was at the inn. Judge, please instruct the witness to answer my question.”

  Hammel frowned at Santini. “Mr. Corona, were you going to meet anybody at the Floridian Inn?”

  “No, Judge, I’ve answered this same question for weeks.” Luis put his head down on the table.

  “Let’s go back to the publications you were bringing into the country. You have called them graphic comics. Do you deny that they show a group of men with explosives? Do you deny that the pictures show the steps they took to make some kind of explosives?”

  “They show men using all kinds of weapons. That’s true. They are supposed to be from another planet.”

  “Isn’t it a fact that these pamphlets are instructions about making bombs and attacking Americans?”

  “Actually, they are attacking Japan. Japanese artists draw these comics.”

  “Isn’t it a fact that you concealed a sharp scissors and a lighter onto the plane in hopes of terrorizing the flight crew?”

  “No, it’s not true. I’ve told all of your officers over and over.” Luis began to sob and beat his one free fist on the table.

  “I’m done with this witness,” Santini said, and took his seat.

  I patted Luis’s shoulder. “Calm down, and try to hang in there just a little longer,” I whispered.

  “Is your client able to go on with this hearing?” Judge Hammel asked.

  “I believe he can, Judge. I have two other witnesses to call.”

  “You’re kidding,” the judge said. “I thought your client was your last witness.”

  “I want the court to hear more. May I continue?”

  “Yes, go ahead.”

  “We call Natalie Byron.”

  Catherine was on her way up the aisle as I spoke. She returned with an elegant black woman, carrying some papers. She nodded at the judge, took her place in the witness chair, and raised her right hand before being asked to do so.

  “Please state your name and profession.”

  “I am Natalie Byron. I am a senior crime lab technician at the Miami-Dade Crime Lab.”

  “How long have you been in your current position?”

  “Twelve years. Before that I was a training officer in the crime lab of the FBI in Quantico, Virginia.”

  “What are your duties in the crime lab?’

  “I oversee the testing of suspect substances. It is my job to check the work of a group of technicians whenever they have been unable to identify a substance, or when there is some special question about a substance.”

  “Now, were you asked to look at a white powder submitted by federal officers in which the substance had been removed from someone named Luis Corona?”

  “Yes, I was. If I may look at my report, I will tell you on what date that occurred.”

  “Judge, I want to look at that report first,” Santini said.

  “That’s fine with me, Judge, but he has the report in his file. I got Ms. Byron’s name from him just this morning.”

  “Go ahead, look at the report, but let’s move this hearing along.”

  Santini studied the report for a few minutes and handed it back to the witness.

  “I was asked specifically by Homeland Security to test this substance myself and to send through a report as soon as possible. That was on June sixth. I was further asked to keep all information from the tests as highly confidential, not to be shared with others in the lab.”

  “Is it unusual for you to test substances for federal agencies?”

  “We do the testing of almost all evidence seized in this county. Since I was an FBI employee and an instructor, I am often asked to handle federal cases rather than having them transport evidence to their own lab.”

  “Was there anything at all unusual about this evidence?”

  “Yes and no. What was unusual was that there was no case number assigned to any of the paperwork. Also the name of the arresting officer was missing. Instead there was a badge number to be used to transmit the report to Homeland Security, and the name of a deputy in the Justice Department named Golightly. I assigned a lab case number prior to examining the substance. I unsealed the evidence envelope and saw what was not at all unusual. There was a white powder wrapped in a piece of colorful wrapping paper. The paper contained a prayer written in Spanish. I recognized this as a Santeria prayer.”

  “By your answer do I understand that you’ve seen this kind of paper and powder on other occasions?”

  “Many times. Santeria is a popular religion with many Hispanic people. The prayer and the powder are like a St. Christopher medal, to protect the person who carries them.”

  “Did you test the substance?”

  “Yes. First I carefully opened the paper. I wore a mask and gloves in case the paper was a ruse. As soon as I looked at the powder, I knew it wasn’t going to contain any illegal substances. It certainly wasn’t anthrax or its progeny or the people who viewed it at the arrest would already have been ill. Next I placed the powder on a glass slide and added some drops of chemical to it. There was no reaction. I completed the more complicated tests for heroin and cocaine. I already knew that it wasn’t either of them, but it’s my job to complete all of the tests that would identify even a drop of an illegal substance. Finally, I identified that the powder was a combination of talcum powder and sugar. This is most often what i
s sold in the bodegas. Sometimes flour is used.”

  “After making these determinations, what did you do next?”

  “I resealed the evidence in a lab evidence envelope, placed my initials on the envelope, and resealed it in the original envelope in which it was submitted. I tried to call the gentleman at the Justice Department, but he never returned my call. I placed the evidence in the evidence locker in the secure room in the lab. Then I sent copies of my report to the badge number at Homeland Security and to the Justice Department.”

  “Have you had any further communication with any other agency in this case regarding your tests or this substance?”

  “Not until today. I received your telephone call asking me to appear here voluntarily today and to bring the evidence in this case. I also received a call from my office when I was on my way here, regarding a call from someone at Justice. I was told it was about this case. I told the office to tell the caller I was on my way to testify here and they could speak with me here. Mr. Santini did speak with me outside the courtroom and I shared with him the results of my tests.”

  “Okay, thank you Ms. Byron and thanks for appearing at the last minute without a subpoena.”

  Santini began his questions before he was out of his chair. “Ms. Byron, you don’t know the defendant in this case, do you?”

  “No, I never know anything about any of the accused. I just know about the substances that are seized.”

  “So just because the powder in this case was not a narcotic or any other harmful substance, you don’t know whether there was any other criminal evidence in Luis Corona’s case?”

  “No, of course not. I don’t even know what he is charged with.”

  “That’s funny, neither does he.” The words popped out of my mouth before I knew it.

  “Ms. Katz, please, you know better,” Judge Hammel said before Santini could make his objection.

  “I’m sorry, Your Honor,” I said.

  “I don’t have any other questions for Ms. Byron,” Santini said.

  “Judge, my last witness will be Consul General Philipe Marquez. He is seated here as a spectator, but the government never invoked The Rule, so they can hardly complain that the witness has been tainted by hearing the other testimony here today. I actually had planned to call him as a rebuttal witness to the government’s case, but I believe it makes more sense to call him now. It may save some time.”

  “I’m all for that,” Judge Hammel said.

  I looked up at the judge and thought how tired he looked. Señor Marquez came up the aisle as Ms. Byron left. He was quickly sworn in and I jumped right into my questions.

  “State your name and position, sir.”

  “I am Philipe Marquez. I am the officer in charge of the Argentine consul in Miami. This has been my position over the last four years during the current administration in my country.”

  “Are you acquainted with the Corona family from Buenos Aires?”

  “I knew of them by reputation. They have put Argentine fashion designers on the map. I do not know their son, Luis, but since Luis’s arrest I have come to know Miguel and Maria Corona quite well. I have also looked into the background of Luis.”

  “Please, tell the court what you have learned about Luis Corona”

  “I felt it important to investigate what kind of person Luis is. His parents contacted our embassy in the U.S. I was then contacted to assist our citizens who were unable to find out why their son was being held prisoner. I found nothing in Luis’s background such as arrests or any criminal activity. He graduated from university cum laude and has worked for his parents. I couldn’t even find a traffic infraction. My office in Buenos Aires interviewed his professors and some of his friends and neighbors. Nothing points to any reason he should be in any trouble in a foreign country.”

  “Tell the court what actions you took to try to find Luis or to gain any information regarding any charges pending against him in the United States.”

  “I spoke immediately with the U.S. embassy in my country and asked them to assist me in finding Luis. They have only said that they were trying to find him but were unable to. I spoke with the office of the U.S. Attorney in Miami. I was told that they were unable to help me, because Luis’s charges were being handled by Homeland Security. I was rebuffed when I called that office, given what I believe you call ‘the runaround.’ ”

  “How did you locate Luis?”

  “In desperation, I called a press conference. We received several anonymous tips and one of them led to Luis at the federal detention center in this county. We further found that no charges had been filed against him in the weeks following his arrest.”

  “Now, one of the questions which Luis was repeatedly asked was who he was sent to meet at the Floridian Inn. Do you have any idea why Luis was under suspicion because he was holding a reservation at that hotel?”

  “A few days before Luis traveled to Miami, a man was found murdered at that hotel. The murdered man registered using an Argentine passport. My consulate here was asked to check into his identity. I learned that the passport belonged to an Argentine gentleman who had died a year ago.”

  “Did you ever learn who the murder victim actually was?”

  “He was a Colombian who was involved with a drug organization and a rebel group in his country. In fact, this information surfaced as part of a case centered in the state criminal courthouse here. This morning’s news media confirmed this in their lead stories. There was no connection to Luis Corona in any way.”

  “How many rooms does the Floridian Inn have, if you know?”

  “I do know, because I have booked rooms there for many business travelers from my country. There are over two hundred rooms.”

  “Thank you, Señor Marquez. I have nothing further.”

  Santini got to his feet slowly. He moved to the lectern and read the notes on his pad. The courtroom was quiet. The pause was long. The judge’s stare was piercing.

  “Mr. Santini, are you going to ask any questions, or are you just stretching your legs?” Judge Hammel asked.

  “Sorry, Judge. Mr. Marquez, you have told us you don’t know Luis Corona. Correct?”

  “That is correct.”

  “So would it be fair to say that you don’t know whether or not Luis had any other reasons to come to Miami?”

  “Yes, that’s correct. It’s just that everything is clear that he was here to open a shop for his family.”

  “Your job is to represent the Argentine government and citizens here in Miami, isn’t it?”

  “Of course.”

  “And it would be best if no one from your country got into trouble in this country?”

  “Of course, but even if an Argentine was charged with a crime, I would still provide the services available to our citizens. It’s just that in Luis’s case, there are no charges.”

  “You’ve answered my question, sir. I didn’t ask about this case.”

  “Mr. Santini, you must realize that my government is aware that Luis has been held without charges and without a hearing to set bail. This is very upsetting. Our Department of State is considering some formal action to resolve this.”

  “Judge, please instruct the witness that he is to answer my questions and not to make a speech.” Santini’s frustration was obvious.

  “Mr. Marquez, sir, please, try to answer without going into other areas. I understand your feelings, but we must adhere to the rules of evidence and procedure,” Judge Hammel said.

  “This is my last question, Mr. Marquez. Isn’t it a fact that the person who told you about the identity of the murder victim at the inn was Luis Corona’s attorney, Ms. Katz?”

  “Yes, that’s correct, but it was splashed all across the Herald and CNN this morning.”

  Santini took his seat, and I stood to announce that we rested our case.

  “Your Honor, I think the court can see that Luis Corona is being held without charges, without bail, without access to his attorney, all in violati
on of our constitution, that he was about to be spirited out of this country on the flimsiest evidence I’ve ever encountered. I ask this court to release him forthwith and with the apology of our government.” I sat down and as I did, I couldn’t believe that applause thundered out of the spectators’ seats.

  “Please, Ladies and Gentlemen, there must be no further emotional outbursts or I’ll be forced to clear the courtroom. Everyone please stay in your seats.” Judge Hammel’s voice shook with exhaustion.

  The federal watchdogs behind me were on their feet towering over Luis and me. The applause ceased and the watch-dogs sat down.

  “Mr. Santini, are you ready to call your witnesses?” the judge asked.

  “Shouldn’t we take a break first, Judge?” Santini looked hopeful.

  “No, let’s just soldier on, please.”

  “We call Marta Alonso.” Santini sent the bailiff to call the witness.

  A fortyish woman in a stylish suit and spike heels was escorted to the witness chair by the bailiff.

  “Do you know who this woman is?” I whispered to Luis.

  “I think it’s the flight lady from the airplane,” he whispered back.

  Santini began his questions as soon as the witness was sworn and seated. “Tell the court your name and your occupation.”

  “I’m Marta Alonso. I’m employed by Overseas Airways as a flight attendant.”

  “How long have you been a flight attendant, Ms. Alonso?”

  “I began at Eastern Airlines when I finished college and worked there until they went out of business. Then I joined Overseas Air, so I guess altogether twenty-eight years.”

  “Were you working on flight nine-eight-nine from Buenos Aires to Miami on June fifth of this year?”

  “Yes, I work that route on a regular basis as the senior flight attendant.”

  “Did you come in contact with a passenger named Luis Corona on that flight?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Do you see him in court today?”