To my brother René in freedom
That September 12, for which there is no adjective to describe its violence, I was the last to arrive in Miami and, thus, the last to be placed in an extremely cold cell, with a bare mattress, a bedspread and a roll of toilet paper; all of us in isolation.
The silence was dismal on that 13th floor of the Miami Detention Center. Pure animal instinct tells you to move around within that confined space. From time to time, I stopped before the narrow pane of glass in the metallic door, through which a guard constantly observed us during his rounds. In a cell facing mine at one end, I looked at a man who also stopped at his narrow window from time to time. An austere, bearded face, bare chest, and asked myself, ‘Who can that guy be? Isn’t he cold?’
It was René; I didn’t know him yet.
In those early days, of which there is still much to be told, they took him and me down to the courtroom. There, we were to plead innocent or guilty which, in our case, was declaring ourselves worthy or unworthy, honest or dishonest, loyal or traitorous. We two were convinced of our innocence. But there was one, who I didn’t know either, who was going to plead guilty. Each one of us went before the judge separately, but René read betrayal on the face of that piece of work, who was trying to involve me with some story.
Later, René said to me, ‘I’ve got to talk to that guy.’ I just asked him to keep calm.
That is how I got to know him.
That is how we became the five, brothers.
For that reason, his freedom is our freedom, his pain and his joy are also ours.
For that reason, our unjust imprisonment will continue being his imprisonment.
For that reason, we were, are and will be the Five, the fusion of one man, one Cuban like millions of compatriots, loyal to their people and their homeland.
Tony Guerrero Rodríguez
May 10, 2013
Marianna Federal Prison.