In what intelligence experts say could cast a spotlight on the shadowy
world of Cuban-U.S. espionage, five suspects in the case are scheduled to
go on trial in September. But defense lawyers are so swamped under
government estimates of more than 10,000 pages of classified material that
they may seek a delay.
Meantime, the few court records made public in the case so far offer a
rare glimpse into the Cold War era struggle that has simmered for decades
in South Florida.
``Since 1995, court-ordered surreptitious entries of residences, and
electronic surveillance, had shown the existence and operation of a group
of clandestine agents of the Cuban government in South Florida,'' writes
U.S. prosecutor Caroline Heck Miller in one memorandum defending two FBI
searches.
FBI agent Raul Fernandez writes in another affidavit that the bureau
had ``investigated the movements, communications and residences'' of some
of the accused spies as far back as 1995 -- the year before Cuban MiGs
shot down two Brothers to the Rescue aircraft in the Florida Straits.
Four South Florida men were killed when the Cubans fired missiles into
the aircraft on Feb. 24, 1996; accused spy master Gerardo Hernandez is
charged with conspiracy to commit those murders.
Still unclear from the public documents is why U.S. authorities decided
to unmask the spy ring in the early morning hours of Sept. 12, 1998, when
agents swept through seven homes from Hollywood to Key West and arrested
the 10 accused spy members.
Only Hernandez was charged in the shoot-down, seven months after his
arrest; the rest are accused of acting as unregistered agents of a foreign
government and other lesser espionage-related charges, for example,
snooping on exile organizations and trying to gather intelligence on U.S.
military operations in Miami and Key West.
Case documents portray the Cuban agents as steeped in a world of
vintage Soviet-era intrigue.
Cuban agents allegedly used code names and identities of long-dead
Latino children, hid encryption pads inside stereo speakers and sewed
passports into the fur collar of a woman's coat. They allegedly hollowed
out the counter of a Miami Beach kitchen and shuttled secret reports from
South Florida to New York.
U.S. counterintelligence agents, for their part, followed them,
photographed them, searched their homes, tapped their phones and
eavesdropped on their conversations, according to details contained in
affidavits filed by two different FBI agents.
Fake ID cards
Five months before the FBI unmasked the ring, agents armed with a
search warrant slipped into the alleged spy master's North Miami Beach
apartment, searched it and planted a listening device. ``Electronic
surveillance of the apartment has reflected continuous conversation since
then -- on matters pertinent to activity on behalf of the government of
Cuba,'' according to one federal record.
In classic spy novel intrigue, two of the accused spies are described
as double agents, informing to the FBI on the one hand, while reporting
back to Havana on the bureau's inner workings.
They are identified as Juan Pablo Roque, who double-defected back to
Havana on the eve of the Brothers to the Rescue planes shoot-down; and
Rene Gonzalez, a former Brothers pilot who had joined Ramon Saul Sanchez's
Democracy Movement at the time of his arrest.
Prosecutor Miller alleged at one court hearing that Roque, on orders
from Havana, introduced Gonzalez to the FBI in January 1996 as a potential
drug-trafficking informant.
Seven months later -- in August 1996 -- FBI agents realized Gonzalez
was in fact a double agent, working for Cuba, Miller said. So they
introduced him to U.S. counterintelligence agents.
Being watched
An example: Accused spy master Hernandez's North Miami Beach neighbors
knew him as Manuel Viramontes. Actually a captain with Cuban military
intelligence, he said he was from Puerto Rico, paid $580-a-month in rent
on his modest apartment and passed himself off as a freelance graphic
artist.
Apparently suspicious that his phone was bugged, he adopted a Puerto
Rican accent. Unaware that they were eavesdropping on his everyday
household conversations, too, the alleged spy master would at times slip
into his natural Cuban cadence.
Government prosecutors allege that the spy ring called themselves the
Wasp Network, La Red Avispa. Agents charge that network operatives were
linked by a beeper system.
Once, when alleged spy Alejandro Alonso did not answer his page quickly
enough, Viramontes admonished him. ``Full combat readiness'' was a must,
the alleged spy master supposedly told his charge.
The U.S.-born Alonso, a boat captain, has since pleaded guilty to
spying on the Democracy Movement -- and turned prosecution's evidence,
according to an affidavit by FBI agent Jose F. Orihuela.
Hidden objects
Some alleged espionage activity stretches back long before the time
period for which the Cubans are charged.
Court papers say that one accused agent -- known in Miami as Luis
Medina, officially listed as John Doe No. 2 -- set up spy shop in Florida
in 1992, when he was living in Tampa and assigned to gather intelligence
at the McDill Air Force Base.
Medina is not directly charged with spying on McDill, and the Pentagon
has said no military secrets were spilled to the Cuban spies.
Two other confessed spy ring members -- Linda and Nilo Hernandez --
allegedly told federal agents that they were assigned dual functions
sometime after they moved to Miami from New York in 1992. They were to
snoop on exile organizations and file reports for Havana. They were to
also watch two other Cuban agents ``who were thought to be at risk of
defection to U.S. authorities,'' according to Fernandez. He does not name
the two potential turncoats.
Under neighbors' noses
``That's where the Cuban spy used to live,'' cracked George Pettas, 72, a
musician who was Medina's neighbor at 1776 Polk Ave. in Hollywood.
Agents searched the apartment several times and found fake identity
cards as well as ``hundreds of diskettes containing reports of Cuban
intelligence business in encrypted form, a short-wave radio, and
identification documents for numerous names,'' an FBI report says.
But to Pettas, the man known as Medina ``was a nice guy, my friend.
. . . Who knew he wanted to overthrow my country?'' he said.
Pettas said he realized something was amiss the September morning that
agents rounded up the 10 accused spies as they slept in their beds. Pettas
was outside his 12-story apartment building in downtown Hollywood that day
-- and spotted several female agents with the letters F-B-I on their
jackets.
But FBI agents had been shadowing Medina long before then. A year
earlier, on Oct. 23, 1997, they watched him meet and pick up the supposed
ringleader at Fort Lauderdale Airport ``upon Manuel Viramontes' return
from a courier trip to the New York area,'' Orihuela writes.
Largest case since '77
Prosecutors first want a court conference on which of the reams of
material covered by the Classified Information Protection Act will be
admissible at the trial.
Also, some defense attorneys may ask to move the trial north of this
community, which considers the supposed spy ring's boss -- Fidel Castro --
Public Enemy No. 1.
Counterintelligence experts say spy cases in the past rarely went to
trial. Spies captured here were traded for Americans captured abroad or
were allowed to plead guilty to lesser charges to shield American
counterintelligence techniques from exposure in open court.
Former prosecutors say a spy-swap in this instance is unlikely.
Although Cuba is home to 70 fugitives sought by America, they are
described as wanted bank robbers, killers and ex-Cuban spies who came in
from the cold -- not captured American spies, traditional trade fodder.
Shadowing of Cubans a classic spy tale
5 set for trial in September