Justice by Fire

Salvadorans. Holt spread the eight-by-ten blowups across the table's pink Formica. Senor Rivera pointed to one young Salvadoran.

'This one. He was one of the soldiers who killed Mr. Marquez. This man...' he pointed to the photo of the death-squad commander '...I have seen him in the newspapers. A colonel, I believe.'

'Roberto Quesada,' Holt informed him. 'Ex-colonel Quesada. He resigned his army commission in December 1979...'

Senor Rivera nodded. 'Yes, after the first junta.'

'He opposed the voting rights and land reforms,' Holt continued. 'Now he directs the Army of White Warriors from Miami...'

'Why does your Immigration not deport him?' Senora Rivera asked.

' 'Cause he's a rich man,' Jefferson answered.

'Do you recognize any of the others?' Holt asked the Riveras.

'Perhaps this one…' Senora Rivera picked up one photo. 'I think… I think maybe I saw him in the village. But… I cannot be sure.'

Senor Rivera waved a hand over the photos. 'Why do we look at these? They do not show what happened that day. Pictures from Miami prove nothing.'

'If we can link Quesada to the murder, if Quesada gave the order from Miami to murder Ricardo Marquez in Sonsonate, he is then subject to prosecution under the laws of the United States,' Holt said. 'And for the period of the investigation and trial, you and your family will receive protection as witnesses.'

'And perhaps we will not. Perhaps they will come to kill us. If I had not called your embassy in San Salvador, my son would be alive. Now you want us to trust your justice?'

'Yes. I want you to trust our laws. In the United States, no one is above the law. Not even wealthy colonels.'

'Not even the White House?' Senora Rivera asked.

Holt repeated his words. 'No one is above the law. The law protects us all.'

'In El Salvador, there are many laws,' muttered Senor Rivera. 'There are courts and lawyers. There is a constitution. But the law does not stop the squadrons of death.'

3

Agent Gallucci of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, impatiently drummed his fingers on the desktop. As David Holt detailed the information his firm had gathered on Colonel Quesada, Gallucci stared out of his office window at the smog-gray skyline of Los Angeles.

Holt took a folder from his briefcase. 'Here are photocopies of the death threats against my clients. Photographs of the murdered child and administrative assistant. A photo of the men who followed Mr. Marquez in San Salvador. These are photos of the Salvadoran soldiers who arrived in Miami. My client identified this man as one of the murderers of Ricardo Marquez. Other sources identify...'

Swiveling his chair around, Agent Gallucci interrupted the attorney. 'Why don't you take all this to the Salvadoran Embassy?'

'Because this concerns the murder of an American citizen...'

'Who got killed in El Salvador. We don't investigate what happens in other countries.'

'There is reason to believe that Quesada ordered the murder of Marquez from Miami. The murderers are now in the United States...'

'Reason to believe? What does that mean?'

'Quesada is the commander of the death squad. Marquez attempted to interview him in Miami. The next month, when Marquez traveled to El Salvador to report on terrorism directed against the land-reform programs, he noticed men following him through the city. He photographed those men before evading them — or believing he evaded them. The next day, while he was waiting to speak with my client, he was murdered with machetes.'

'The State Department says he got killed in combat, in a cross fire between the army and the Communists.'

'The autopsy will disprove that...'

'What autopsy?'

'The newspaper has sent a doctor to examine the body.'

'Until the State Department issues another statement, he died in combat. Occupational hazard for newspapermen creeping around in other people's wars. Maybe you ought to take all this over to OSHA office.'

'May I quote you on that?'

'I tell you what, Mr. Holt. Why don't you bring your clients in. We'll talk about all this. I'll call down the hall to the INS. We'll have one of their officers stop by to discuss extending your clients' visas. Chances are all this will take months to sort through.'

'That won't be possible.'

The middle-aged FBI agent faked surprise. 'You mean, your clients won't come in to talk about this? You implied you had their full cooperation — oh… I know what the problem is. They're illegal. You're representing some Commie wetbacks, aren't you? What do you intend to do, sell your crazy story to the networks?'

'My clients are in fear for their lives...'

'You better be in fear for your freedom, Mr. Pro Bono. And your practice. Aiding and abetting illegal entry into this country is a crime. You want to go to prison?'

Holt returned the documents and photos to his briefcase. He glanced at his watch. 'Do you watch the news programs in the evenings, Agent Gallucci?'

'Sure. Got to know what's happening in the world.'

'Watch tonight.'

The attorney left the federal office without another word.

4

Technicians held spotlights. Sound men crowded around David Holt with microphones as other technicians readied TV cameras. On the steps of the Wilshire Boulevard Federal Building in the Los Angeles suburb of Westwood, Holt waited as the network crews readied their equipment. Federal employees returning from their lunch hour glanced at the impromptu news conference. But they passed without commenting or questioning; they saw the media and demonstrations every day.

A camerawoman signaled the attorney. 'Ready here, Mr. Holt.'

'Anytime,' another technician called out.

'Sir. Please give us a voice level before you begin your statement.'

'Certainly. Thank you all for coming at such short notice. For those of you who may not know me, I am David Holt, of the law firm Holt, Lindsey and Stein. Usually our firm handles corporate law. However, we often take cases on a pro bono basis if we feel they represent a worthy public issue. Last week, a dear friend died in El Salvador. Do you have your levels now?'

'Go ahead…'

'Perfect.'

'Last week, the Latin American correspondent for the San Francisco Globe, Ricardo Marquez, died in Sonsonate, El Salvador. The United States ambassador reported to the American public that Mr. Marquez died in a cross fire between government and rebel forces.

'That is a lie. Marquez was murdered by members of the Ejercito de los Guerreros Blancos, the Army of White Warriors, a death squad founded in December of 1979 to defeat the reforms of the Salvadoran government. I have a cable from San Salvador...'

Holt held up a telex. 'We sent a pathologist to exhume and examine the body. The doctor reports that