agreement you mentioned.”
“What about it?”
“That trust was established exclusively for your son. Not for him and his wife. Am I correct?”
“That’s right.”
“You never had any discussions with Lindsey about that trust, did you?”
“No. Lindsey and I didn’t talk about money.”
“You never sent her a copy of the trust instrument, did you?”
“No, of course not.”
“You never heard her having any discussions about the trust.”
“You mean with Oscar?”
“I mean with anyone.”
Pintado thought for a moment, as if he was beginning to pick up Jack’s implication. “No. Never heard her talk about it.”
Jack would have liked to knock his point home and finish with a question like, So, as far as you know, Lindsey never even knew about Oscar’s trust. But he knew he’d probably get an answer like, Actually, Mr. Swyteck, my lawyer tells me that Lindsey called his office to ask about the trust four times a day for six weeks prior to Oscar’s death.
Jack figured he’d leave well enough alone.
“Mr. Pintado, let’s shift gears and talk about you for a minute. I understand that you’re the founder and president of Brothers for Freedom.”
“That’s correct. One of my proudest achievements.”
“Congratulations, sir. For the benefit of those in this courtroom who have never heard of it, how would you describe the purpose of your organization?”
“We fly humanitarian missions over the Straits of Florida in search of people trying to leave Cuba. Once we find them, we do everything within our legal rights to help bring them to safety in Florida.”
Jack noticed three of the jurors nodding their heads in silent approval. It was hard not to admire what he was doing. But it was Jack’s job to discredit him anyway.
“Mr. Pintado, I have here a copy of a newspaper article that appeared on page two-A of the Miami Tribune some eleven months ago. It talks about your role in Brothers for Freedom. Do you recall speaking to a reporter before this article appeared?”
“Yes.”
“The article quotes you as follows: ‘We don’t want to be part of the Coast Guard’s new agenda, which is to send Cubans back to Cuba. They have become Castro’s border patrol.’ ”
Jack let the quote hang in the air. The silence in the courtroom was palpable.
“Yes, those were my words,” said Pintado.
“You made that statement because the U.S. Coast Guard’s current policy toward any Cuban refugees intercepted at sea is to return them to Cuba. Am I right?”
“That’s right.”
“That policy made you angry, did it not?”
“Of course it did. We’re talking about sending people back to Fidel Castro, a ruthless murderer who once put a man on trial and executed him within five days of his return to Cuba. Many others are sitting in Castro’s prisons, and their only crime is that they left Cuba in search of freedom and got stopped by the U.S. Coast Guard before reaching U.S. soil.”
“I understand. So, the very idea that the Coast Guard would return rafters to Cuba made you and a lot of other people angry.”
“Many, many people. That’s right.”
“It made your son angry, too, right?”
“Yes, it did.”
“Is it fair to say that Captain Pintado felt the same way you did about the U.S. Coast Guard?”
“Objection,” said the prosecutor. “There’s no evidence that Captain Pintado ever referred to the U.S. Coast Guard as Castro’s border patrol.”
“Overruled. The witness may answer.”
Pintado said, “On this particular issue, yes. I would say that my son felt the same as I did.”
“Did he make his views known at the naval base?”
Pintado paused, careful with his response. “I would hope not. There were hundreds of Coast Guard sailors stationed at Guantanamo.”
“Yes. Hundreds. Which means, sir, that in the largest newspaper in the Coast Guard’s Seventh District-which includes Miami and Guantanamo Bay-you called three thousand of your son’s next-door neighbors ‘Castro’s border patrol.’ ”
“Objection,” said the prosecutor. “Asked and answered.”
It was the kind of objection Jack welcomed, as it only underscored Pintado’s earlier response. “Yes, I guess it was asked and answered,” said Jack. He squared himself to the witness and said, “Let me ask you this, sir: Is it fair to say that your ‘Castro’s border patrol’ comment incited anger among Coast Guard personnel?”
Again, Pintado seemed cautious to agree with anything Jack said, but he couldn’t deny this. “It made some people angry, sure.”
Jack went back to his table, and Sofia handed him another exhibit. “In fact, let me read to you one of the many angry responses to your ‘Castro’s border patrol’ comment. This is an actual letter to the editor that was printed in the Miami Tribune three days after your quote appeared in the newspaper. It reads, ‘Dear Editor: As a World War Two Coast Guard veteran, I am outraged by Mr. Pintado’s reference to our branch of service as ‘Castro’s border patrol.’ I spent three years of my life on a destroyer in the South Pacific trying to outrun Japanese torpedos. I saw my friends literally blown out of the water as they transported American troops to the beaches on D day. If Mr. Pintado thinks that the Coast Guard works for a vicious dictator like Fidel Castro, then I volunteer to reenlist for duty so that I can personally transport Mr. Pintado back to Cuba.’ ”
Jack paused to give the jury time to feel the veteran’s anger.
“Is there a question?” asked the prosecutor.
“My question is this,” said Jack. “Mr. Pintado, did you feel at all concerned for your personal safety after seeing that kind of response to your comments?”
“I’ve always been outspoken. I’m used to that kind of thing.”
“You’re used to it, and you take precautions.”
“I’m not sure I take your meaning.”
“You have a bodyguard, do you not?” asked Jack.
“Yes.”
“Your wife has a bodyguard as well, correct?”
“Yes.”
“But your son-Oscar-he was on his own. No bodyguard. Living on the same base with hundreds of Coast Guard members whom you called ‘Castro’s border patrol.’ ”
Pintado struggled with his response, then simply brushed it aside. “Oscar obviously didn’t have any problems. His best friend was in the Coast Guard.”
“His best friend. That would be Lieutenant Damont Johnson, correct?”
“Yes.”
Jack scoffed, seizing the opportunity to plant a seed of doubt in the jury’s mind-and to give the prosecutor a dose of his own medicine about missing witnesses. “Well, perhaps Lieutenant Johnson will come here himself and tell us just how good a friend he really was.”
“Objection.”
“Sustained.”
Jack weighed in his mind whether to push harder, but implying that a father was even indirectly responsible for his son’s murder was touchy stuff. Jack could read the jury well enough to know that it was time to sit down.
“Thank you, Mr. Pintado. No further questions.”
