The Everglades - Chapter Twenty

20

1977. Ynez Figueroa’s family home sat atop a three-acre bayfront lot. Lush tropical landscape enclosed its borders. The estate offered privacy within the bustling city. The young Cuban was twenty-four years old. A party celebrated her graduation from the University of Miami’s Accounting program. Grades were impeccable. Ynez was the darling of professors. As stunningly beautiful women often experienced, doors of opportunity opened easily. Her major professor was disappointed to find she did not intend to sit for the CPA exam. First, she was to secure her Juris Doctorate from Florida State University’s Law School.

Undergraduate work was completed at the end of summer. The fall semester started in weeks.

Ynez’s father, Paco, was proud of his only daughter; the youngest of his brood. Sons were strong and handsome. An impressive resonance emanated from the young woman. Strength was recognized by the father the day she was born. There was a worldliness beaming from sparkling, clear eyes. An old soul seeking beauty and purity from her human existence. If properly nurtured, Ynez possessed the ability to grab the world by its proverbial tail.

Three handsome brothers safeguarded their little sister; protecting her against all manner of advance. The Sexual Revolution accorded young men permission to declare desires through unsolicited and lewd advances. That would not be the case with Ynez. She was the only flower in their family’s garden. Her petals must remain pristine for the sake of class.

The eldest sibling was Pedro. He was twenty years senior to Ynez. Age difference prevented common interests upon which a relationship could be fostered. He’d watched her first steps, and looked upon the vision that became his sister; a beautiful and intelligent woman. As if being guided by a second father, she advanced toward life’s successes. The first-born sibling possessed a mellowed wisdom commensurate with entering his fifth decade.

Paco and his wife, Anna-Maria, struggled financially early in their relationship. For years it appeared they’d not have the financial wherewithal to afford the large family they desired. Law school offered opportunities beyond practicing his chosen discipline. Statutes were bastardized and misapplied based on individual wealth. Once the patriarch made professional inroads, two brothers and Ynez arrived in quick succession.

Jesus, the second child, was thirty years old. Named for his maternal grandfather, the young man possessed an unquenchable desire to lead an organization of his own. It was not to be. Family business required utmost secrecy. Age difference between him and Pedro exacerbated isolation. Never did he possess the ear of their father. Cultural deference favored the eldest brother. Independence bubbled within the second child; a man old enough to carry sway within the industry in which the family operated. Jesus was driven by desire; fueled by an impetuous nature. It endangered him and those who chose to follow the young man toward an uncertain future.

Juan was the athlete in the family. He played wide receiver in high school. Several colleges offered scholarships. The young man’s passion however was baseball. While playing Minor League ball Juan leapt toward first base trying to stretch out an infield single. The extended leg jammed backward. All of the force of his speed and weight found the joint’s most susceptible weakness. He suffered the same injury to his hip socket as Bo Jackson. The trauma ended his career. Reluctantly, he quit sports and began working within the family business. Lack of options for a lucrative career limited life’s choices.

The family home was located on Bayshore Drive Northeast. It was a secured area; whereby professional athletes and politicians lived. Heavy police presence offered a sense of security to anyone affording tony existences. The structure’s fashion emulated Colonial Revival. The house reflected the couple’s appreciation for plantations in their Cuban homeland.

A large deck made of brick pavers surrounded the pool directly behind the home. The space offered ample room for guests to mingle. Beyond its outer edge, a well-manicured green lawn sprawled and sloped toward the bay.

A white tent had been raised on the lawn. Its canopy was supported by several three-inch metal poles. Beneath it was a small bandstand and dance-floor; as well as an open bar. An up-and-coming singer called Gloria regaled guests with lively tunes embracing Latin culture.

Pedro noticed his sister standing alone at the edge of the pool deck, staring above and beyond the party; across the bay. For someone who was the purpose of the celebration, melancholy emanated from within her soul.

Her oldest brother, and most ardent fan, knew her purpose to be unsettled.

Time had come for her to comprehend the path laid for her decades prior.

The eldest sibling sidled next to his sister. “Are you okay, Ynez.”

She looked at her oldest brother sharply. “What happened to hermanita? I’ve always been your hermanita.”

Pedro smiled. “You’re a woman now. Once you finish law school we will be working closely together. I will always seek to protect you as long as my body possesses strength. But now, you have earned respect, and deservedly so.”

The young beauty offered nothing more than a smile in response.

“What’s wrong?”

She pointed with her right index finger; hand laden by a glass containing gin and tonic. She swept her arm across the crowded landscape. “I don’t know any of these people.”

Pedro understood the party did not possess the feel of a celebration for his younger sister. What she had yet to realize was it was more of a coming out. It was Paco’s chance to formally introduce his youngest and brightest offspring to the community in which the family business operated. He smiled at his sister. “These are associates of ours. It’s father’s opportunity to introduce you to them.” He paused. “You’ll be working with these people once you graduate.”

“Pedro, this is all a bit overwhelming.” She pointed at two Anglo men across the pool deck. They were elderly and wearing black suits; in Miami; in August. “I have no idea who those two men are. They look like angels of death.”

“Those are our German business associates. You might work with them, but more likely their sons, who’ve taken over their business.”

Unrelentingly, she pointed out another partygoer. He was tall, thin, and wore a linen suit. He was speaking with Paco. “The man talking to Papa; I’ve never seen him.”

“Ah, now that is Joshua Goldstein. He is the family attorney. You will work closely with him after you graduate.” He paused to gather the strength associated with complete honesty. “You will never eclipse him in our organization. At least not until he retires.”

“In a business our family owns?” she inquired emphatically, yet innocently.

The eldest sibling drew in a deep breath and exhaled. There was so much for his sister to know. He knew their father wouldn’t offer completely honest disclosures to his youngest offspring. The old man fooled himself into believing business had been built employing legitimate means. Demand for drugs would always exist. The man and his sons were simply transportation experts. Beliefs were based in false pride associated with aging; nearing the time of assessing life’s accomplishments.

Tragedy was about to strike, and for the sake of Ynez’s longevity Pedro must be honest with her. “Walk with me down to the dock.”

The siblings strode beyond the lawn, and down the length of the pier; stopping adjacent to their Donzi speed boat. It was a vessel known by those involved in the business as that which transported the genesis of family wealth. Ignorance of business practices rendered the youngest child susceptible to false narratives.

As was the case in the society created by Nazis, there existed an undercurrent tugging against success. Ynez thought her family successfully fought against forces that doomed the less fortunate to poverty. It was on that day the soon-to-be lawyer learned how Paco achieved outsized prosperity. A man from his background had to compromise morals at the expense of those less fortunate. Instead of championing the community from where he came, the old man furthered despair.

The young, beautiful Cuban girl resisted constant advances from libido-driven Latinos. Her father instilled the need to be strong and self-sufficient. He knew she’d need courage to survive the environment he’d created for family.

Ynez must understand how two brothers placed themselves beyond the protection of their father.

The youngest child looked into the eyes of her older brother; appreciating whatever he felt compelled to offer.

Pressure became intense. The older sibling broke away from their meeting and walked to the end of the dock. Pedro stared across Biscayne Bay. Death was near. A lengthy spectrum of responses had been envisioned by the older brother. His sister may lose complete emotional faculties; or she may embrace steely determination. He must prevent her desire for retribution at all costs.

There was no way Ynez could wage war against a leviathan that’d been created over several decades. Too many men were comfortable selling souls for mere mammon. Death meant nothing to them. It was a cost of doing business.

Paco and Pedro knew the sacrifice of two sons, brothers, prevented potential deaths of dozens; including themselves. From the time the two entered Miami’s underworld, they’d come to terms with potentially shortened lives. It was almost a relief that it wasn’t them that’d dare challenge a decades-old, established hierarchy.

“Ynez,” Pedro called his sister to his side.

The young woman walked slowly. She stood next to her brother.

“There’s something you need to know about the family business.” He glanced down at Ynez, and then returned his gaze across the bay. “We do import goods from South America.” He drew in and exhaled a deep breath. “However, the goods we import are illicit in nature.”

“Illicit?” she questioned.

“Mostly cocaine, but sometimes our boats are used for other items.” The man hadn’t the gumption to admit the family was involved in human trafficking.

Pedophilia was the hill upon which Juan and Jesus had chosen to die.

“Cocaine?” Her only knowledge of the drug was that it was popular in the bathrooms at Studio 54.

“There’s a growing demand. All we are doing is providing society with what it demands.” He felt compelled to offer. “If it wasn’t us, it would be someone else.”

“Why is demand supposed to increase?”

Pedro shrugged. “Society, as it’s been defined, necessitates it.”

Ynez shook her head vigorously. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because, our brothers have acted against those we work for.” Pedro turned and swept his arms and hands across the landscape that was the family’s seaside estate. “We have plenty. Our brothers became selfish. They wanted more.” Her brother lied. He knew Ynez possessed the same disdain for those who harmed children.

“Why didn’t you and Papa tell them ‘no?’”

“They did it without our knowledge. As a matter of fact, we’ve had to convince our bosses we had no idea of what Jesus and Juan were doing.”

“To what end?” Ynez cut to the quick.

“Our brothers will go fishing in the Gulfstream between here and Cuba. They will not return.” He paused. “It’s the only means to resolve our conflict that won’t destroy our mother. It must be seen as an accident.”

Ynez interjected. “No!”

Pedro shook his head. “There is nothing you and I can do about it.” He continued his explanation. “They will never be heard from again. Stories will be floated that they went to join Fidel’s movement.”

“Stories?”

Pedro smiled. “You see the people we work for use narratives. When people within the organization attempt to defy its leaders, the way our brothers did, they are done away with. But instead of the negative news and questions being asked of how and why, the controlled media espouses propaganda whereby the elite can spin the energy in their favor. Never an opportunity lost.”

“Spin? What are you talking about?”

“You cannot imagine from how high our orders come, little sister.” He paused, attempting to be as specific as possible. “And no, it goes well beyond Castro. The mistake people make is thinking dictators like Fidel are lone wolves. Quite the contrary. They are all part of a global game of chess. Mere pieces to be moved, and disposed of when the time comes.”

“The same people that control us, control Fidel?”

Pedro nodded. “Exactly. And they will take our brothers’ lives in exchange for the opportunity to strengthen their narrative that communism lies only ninety miles from Key West. It instills fear in people, and that’s when humans turn away from God-given sovereignty. Control is usurped by our bosses, and we profit handsomely.” Feigning pride he felt compelled to offer, “not bad for a family that toiled on a tobacco plantation in Cuba, huh?”

Ynez shook her head aggressively. “You are not the man…the brother I thought you were. Allowing this to happen to our own flesh and blood.”

Pedro had prepared to disclose the nature of the family’s business for nearly a year. “Hermanita, we must live our lives according to a code. He swept his hand toward the party that continued at one of the most beautiful estates in Miami. “There’s a price for all of this.”

“But your decisions destroy lives.”

Pedro wagged his right index finger at his sister condescendingly. “This was a decision made by our father; by which we must abide. I cannot believe he made such an important choice without counsel from our mother.” The brother paused. “It is that into which we were born.”

“Does Mama know the truth about Jesus and Juan? Is she in on the narrative; so she can espouse it in her social circles?”

“No,” he answered sharply. “And she must never know her children were murdered with our knowledge.”

The two were interrupted by the vision of their father traversing the long, wooden-planked dock. Both fell silent; making eye contact with the old man who moved slowly.

Pedro felt compelled to offer one last fact before their father reached them. It was meant to prevent his sister from acting rashly. “Ynez, what you need to understand is that the organization we ultimately work for is the CIA.” He shook his head. “You’ll never succeed against them.”

“Hello, Papa,” Ynez greeted the man as he came to a stop beside his two children.

Paco Figueroa leaned slowly toward his daughter and kissed her gently on the cheek.

Without a word, the old man looked at his eldest son. “Pedro. Please leave your sister and I to talk.”

Silently, the eldest son walked down the long dock toward the house. Once behind his father, he glanced backward, over his shoulder at his youngest sibling. He raised eyebrows and shrugged shoulders slightly.

Ynez shifted her glance from her brother into the caring eyes of an aging man.

The old man reached out and held his daughter’s hands in his own. The smile that crossed his face contained a multitude of emotions; pride; satisfaction; but the one that resonated with the young woman was concern.

“I’m proud of you, dear.”

“Thank you, Papa.”

“You are the only child of mine who followed my footsteps into the discipline of Law.”

“The boys are successful in their own right.”

The old man’s nod of acknowledgment was muted and reflected uncertainty. He remained focused solely on his daughter. “We both have the opportunity to do great things for our community.”

“Papa, you’ve given so much to the Cuban Cultural Center.”

The old man shook his head.

Ynez noticed tears welling upon his lower eyelids. “What is it, Papa?”

“There is a lot to be proud of within our heritage.” Paco shook his head again. “But, I’m afraid my focus was too narrow. I allowed myself to be captured by a system.”

Ynez smiled. A look of incredulity emanated from the girl’s face. “Papa, you’ve helped so many people in your career. How can you say that?”

The old man reached into the pocket of his oversized, white, linen pants. From it he retrieved something that remained hidden in his clinched fist. He held his hand toward his daughter, and then removed clutched fingers, swollen by age, from his palm.

Ynez saw a silver crucifix in her father’s hand. Clustered around it was a silver chain. Jesus’ form perfectly matched the shape of the cross.

“What’s this,” she asked.

The old man was slow to answer. “This is a representation of the biggest failure in my career.”

Ynez remained silent; allowing her father the opportunity to choose words effectively.

“Nearly twenty years ago…you were a little girl…I had a family come to me. They were White; which was odd. In those days we stayed within our own communities; for the most part. They were refused representation by all the White lawyers in town.”

“What was the case?”

“Their little girl…ten years old…Charlotte, had been run over by a man wielding a lot of influence in town.”

“What a horrible accident.”

Paco shook his head. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Charlotte was completely nude when the ambulance arrived.” Paco peered across the bay as he conjured the memory. Feelings from 1957 were fresh. “I’m certain that man…Harry Northrup…was raping that girl. She was able to wrestle free and run. There’s no way that old man could have caught her, so he got into his car and followed her. When he saw the opportunity to silence her, he ran her down with his automobile.” He paused. “There’s no way I could have fought the city’s political machine, but I did what I could for the family.”

“Dios mio. That is awful.” The young woman shook her head.

“There’s a great darkness in this world, Ynez. I’m afraid I’ve participated in it to a considerable degree. As an old man I fear it may be too late for redemption.” The old man pointed to the cross in his palm. “Let this be a daily reminder of what darkness will do to those who possess the purest light of love. Ynez, there will always be an eternal struggle between light and dark forces.” Her father shook his head. “Don’t give into it the way I did. I brought darkness into this family. You are too smart, strong, and independent. Live your life like Jesus did; but there will come a time to fight back against the kind of evil that did this to our savior.”

Ynez took the charm from her father’s hand and hung it around her neck.

The father continued. “That family had little money. This is what they gave me in payment. It was the only thing Charlotte wore when she was murdered. She was clutching it when she died.” Paco pointed to the crucifix resting on his daughter’s nubile, brown-skinned chest. “Remember, in your career, there is only one humanity we ultimately serve. Don’t succumb to the seductive siren song of wealth. It never lasts.”

“I’ll wear it religiously, Papa. But I need you to confirm what the crucifix means to each human.”

“That God sacrificed his only son?”

“No, Papa. I need you to say the words.” The young woman shook her head. “I can’t say it for you, or your words will lose all meaning.”

The old man thought. Advanced age affected cognitive abilities.

Several minutes passed before he recalled, “that Jesus represents individual mandates for us all. We are to protect our Godly sovereignty, even up to death.”

The daughter embraced her father as tightly as she ever had.

When they disengaged from the hug, the old man smiled. “Ynez, God will place you in situations to succeed…to make a greater difference to humanity. I failed that family because I felt overwhelmed. Cloak yourself in the armor of God, and nothing can defeat you.”

The daughter looked deeply, lovingly into her father’s eyes. She never recalled a more sincere conversation. Its gravity was not lost on the college graduate.