Carta de Adriana Pérez a los amigos solidarios del mundo.

A todos los amigos solidarios:

Vivir con la angustia e incertidumbre diaria de qué nos deparara el futuro es la cadena perpetua que comparto con Gerardo. No fui sancionada en una corte federal como él, ni siquiera estuve cerca, sin embargo, recibimos el castigo más cruel: la tortura sicológica y aislamiento definitivo.

El gobierno de Estados Unidos ha impedido que Gerardo pueda recibir mi visita como esposa; derecho que como preso sentenciado a dos cadenas perpetuas le ha sido violado, prohibiendo el encuentro de dos personas que se aman, aún bajo las restricciones que establece el buró de prisiones.

La negación de visa de forma reiterada nos obliga a un distanciamiento mayor, a sufrir las constantes violaciones de los derechos humanos y de leyes internacionales, aumentando así la ansiedad y el perpetuo castigo de no vernos.
Al cumplir próximamente 15 años de matrimonio, me pregunto: ¿Cuándo podremos mirarnos nuevamente a los ojos?

¿Quién tiene el derecho de violar las leyes internacionales? ¿Cuándo se hará justicia?
La confianza en el pueblo norteamericano de nobles valores y defensor de las tradiciones familiares nos hace mantener la confianza en un futuro mejor donde la verdad y la justicia levanten su voz. Por favor, unan sus fuerzas para denunciar esta injusticia.

Adriana Pérez O'Connor, esposa de Gerardo Hernández

Letter from Adriana Pérez to all their friends who are in solidarity with them

To all our friends who are in solidarity with us: To live with the daily anguish and uncertainty that the future offers us is the life sentence that I share with Gerardo.

I was not condemned in a federal court like he was, I was not even close by. Yet, we received the cruelest punishment: psychological torture and definitive isolation.

By the United States government denying Gerardo my visits as his wife, as a prisoner condemned to two life sentences his rights are being violated. They are preventing the joining of two people who love each other, not even under restrictions that the Bureau of Prisons establishes.

The repeated denial of a visa has forced us into a major separation, to suffer the constant violation of human rights and international law. It increases our anxiety and the perpetual punishment of not being able to see each other.

With almost 15 years of marriage, I ask myself: When will we be able to look into each other’s eyes? Who has the right to violate international law? When will there be justice?

The confidence that we have in the U.S. people, in its noble values and as defender of family traditions, keeps us hopeful of a better future where truth and justice raise their voices. Please join forces to protest this situation.

Adriana Pérez O'Connor, wife of Gerardo Hérnández

Carta de Olga Salanueva  a los amigos solidarios del mundo.

Ivette, nuestra hijita, responde al teléfono con una frase: “Casa de la familia González Salanueva, dígame.” Sabe bien que somos una familia, su papito, su mami, su hermanita Irmita y ella.

Lo difícil de explicar es el porque falta Papi desde hace tanto tiempo, por que no puede recordarlo en casa o en cualquier otro lugar dándole un beso, abrazándolo o jugando.
Jamás ha visto una foto donde estemos juntos. No existen estos recuerdos porque se le han negado vivirlos. La niña tiene cinco años de edad, el mismo tiempo que lleva René preso. Ivette tenía solo cuatro meses y medio aquel funesto 12 de septiembre de 1998 cuando comenzó nuestra tragedia. Hemos sido víctimas del odio que siente el gobierno de EEUU contra los 5 héroes cubanos, luchadores contra el terrorismo.
En los 17 meses de confinamiento solitario al que fueron sometidos Fernando, Antonio, Gerardo, Ramón y René, a mi esposo sólo le permitieron ver a sus hijas en dos ocasiones. La primera vez fue especialmente cruel al sernos presentado René esposado a la silla impidiendo así todo tipo de contacto físico. Para poder ver a sus hijas, sólo nos quedó  la opción de acordar a una hora determinada, llevarlas a las proximidades de la cárcel desde donde él podía observarnos a través de una pequeña ventana. Desde el piso 12 sólo podía distinguir los movimientos de una motica de pelo negro que aprendía a caminar. Esa era Ivette.

En Julio del 2000 la fiscalía de Miami le propuso a René un trato para declararse culpable y le recordó que su familia estaba a merced de ellos. Ante la negativa digna de mi esposo, cae nuevamente todo el odio y la venganza sobre nuestra familia.

Fui llevada a la cárcel durante tres meses y luego deportada a Cuba sin poder despedirme de René y viajar con mi pequeña Ivette. Hoy estamos nosotras en Cuba, separadas de René que continua en la cárcel de Carolina del Sur.
He pedido visa para visitar a René en tres ocasiones y las tres veces me ha sido denegada por las autoridades del gobierno de Estados Unidos. De esta manera también le han impedido a mi pequeña Ivette el contacto con su padre.

Todo este tiempo me he preguntado: Si toda persona en prisión tiene el derecho de ser visitado por sus familiares, si debe ser tratado con respeto a sus derechos humanos y dignidad, “porque no podemos reunirnos aunque sea en estas crueles condiciones?
¿Por que se nos niega mirar sus ojos color de la esperanza que tanto necesitamos? ¿Por que se impide que una pareja se tome de la mano en señal de apoyo, amor y entrega? ¿Por que negarle a una niña el sagrado beso de su padre?
Nunca nos cansaremos de exigir nuestro derecho con la fuerza de la verdad, el amor y la esperanza.

Damos gracias todos los días a todos los hombre y mujeres que con su nobleza y dignidad nos ofrecen su ternura, apoyo y solidaridad en estos momentos de tristeza familiar en medio de nuestra lucha por la libertad de los cinco héroes cubanos, luchadores contra el terrorismo, injustamente encarcelados en Estados Unidos.

Olga Salanueva, esposa de René González

Letter from Olga Salanueva  to all their friends who are in solidarity with them

Yvette, our little daughter, answers the phone with one phrase, “House of the González Salanueva family, yes?” She knows well that we are a family, her daddy, her mommy, her sister Irmita and her. What is difficult to explain is why her daddy is missing for so long, why it is she can’t remember him at home or anywhere else, giving him a kiss, hugging him or playing.

She has never seen a photograph where the four of us are together. Those memories simply don’t exist because she’s been denied the right to live them. Our child is five years old, the same amount of time that René has been imprisoned. Ivette was only four and a half months old on that sad September 12, 1998, when our family tragedy began.

Since then we have been victims of the hatred that the U.S. government expresses against our five Cuban heroes who are fighters against terrorism. In the 17 months of solitary confinement that Fernando, Antonio, Gerardo, Ramón and René, my husband, were subjected to, they only let him see his daughters twice. The first time was especially cruel because René was handcuffed to his chair, preventing any physical contact. To be able to see his daughters, the only option we had was to agree on a certain hour and take them close to the jail, from where he could see them through a tiny window.

From the 12th floor he could only distinguish the movements of a little mop of black hair, who was just learning to walk. That was Ivette, who was growing up.
In July 2000, the Miami prosecutors “offered” René a deal: to declare himself guilty. They reminded him that his family was at their mercy. In response to his dignified refusal, all their hatred and vengeance was once again heaped on our family. I was taken to jail for three months and then deported to Cuba without being able to say good-by to René or to travel with my little Ivette.

Today we are in Cuba, separated from René, who remains in prison in South Carolina, condemned to 15 years in prison.

I have requested a visa to visit René on three occasions. Three times I have been denied by the U.S. government authorities. In this manner they have also deprived my little Ivette of any contact with her father.

All this time I have wondered: If every person in prison has the right to be visited by his or her family members, and should have their human rights and dignity respected, then why can’t we be reunited even under these cruel conditions? Why do they deny us being able to look at his eyes, the color of hope that we need so much? Why do they keep a couple from holding hands as a sign of support, love and commitment?

Why deny a child the sacred kiss of her father? We will never tire of demanding our rights, by the strength that we draw from our truth, love and hope.

Every day we give thanks to all the men and women, who with their nobility and dignity, offer us their warmth, support and solidarity in these moments of family sorrow, in our struggle for the freedom of the five Cuban heroes, who are fighters against terrorism, unjustly imprisoned in the United States.

Olga Salanueva, wife of René González

14-04-2004