Some still blame Basulto for deaths of Brothers

Victory in court was sweet for those consumed for so long by the tragedy, but old wounds still linger.

 BY PAUL BRINKLEY-ROGERS

 On the concrete steps of the courthouse where the six-month drama played out, the dozen family members of the four murdered fliers stood in two rows, one behind the other, and linked hands as if in prayer.

 This was a moment to exult: the defendant Cuban spies guilty on all counts, including a charge of murder conspiracy for one of them.

 But these tense and impassive mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers of the dead, who applauded the U.S. attorneys, did not reach out to everyone linked to the case.

 They did not hold hands with the emotional trio to their right, hands linked in a show of their own solidarity: José Basulto, leader of Brothers to the Rescue, who flew the lead plane on the day of the shoot-down but who managed to escape the MiG fighters and make it back to Opa-locka; Eva Barba, mother of dead pilot Pablo Morales; and Pablo's sister, Nancy Morales. Both Barba and Morales have remained loyal to Basulto.

 ``I don't talk to him,'' said Mirta Costa, mother of dead flier Carlos Costa, so Basulto could hear her as they walked to the courthouse steps from the office of the U.S. Attorney.

 Some family members of the fliers long have blamed Basulto for their loved ones' deaths. Mirta Costa gave Basulto a piercing look as they walked. He stared straight ahead.

 Victory in court was sweet for those consumed for so long by the tragedy, but old wounds still linger. Asked if the guilty verdicts were a vindication for him and Brothers to the Rescue, Basulto shot back: ``Brothers does not need vindication!''

 Yet when questions from reporters turned the talk at the press conference to the possibility of indicting Fidel Castro, suddenly there was unity.

 Basulto, Barba and Morales leaned forward and applauded the questions vigorously, and so did the other family members. All of them, Basulto included, wore buttons on their chests showing the smiling faces of their dead loved ones.

 Mirta Costa Mendez, sister of Carlos Costa, said the case had been hard on all of them. It had been especially tough, she said, when the defense put on its case, ``and we had to hear painful things about the Cuban community.'' But she did not mention the defense's attempt to pillory Basulto.

 ``There were good days, and there were bad days,'' Costa Mendez said.

 ``Worst was when we heard the MiG pilots talking [on tape recordings played in the courtroom] for the first time. I was horrified about how joyful they were,'' she said, eyes glistening. ``It was so painful when they showed their airplane with two stars [painted on the fuselage for the two planes they destroyed]. I guess that was their prize for the shooting.''

 Maggie Khuly, an architect and sister to dead pilot Armando Alejandre, said the court victory ``was not all we want.'' She started talking about vengeance being applied to Castro. In the background, Basulto was telling another reporter the same thing.

 ``We want more criminal indictments,'' she said forcefully. ``We talked about that with the [Clinton] administration, and we will be speaking to the current administration about the same thing.''

 At the same time, Basulto was saying, ``Our hope is this is just the beginning of the indictment of Fidel Castro.'' But the two did not nod in agreement.

 On the edge of the group, Michael Costa Mendez, 21, carried a sign showing photos of the dead topped, in a tribute to their sacrifice, by the words: Que no sea en vano (That it not be in vain).

 Costa Mendez was only 16 when his uncle, the strapping Armando Alejandre, a veteran of the U.S. Marine Corps and Vietnam, died.

 On that day, his mother was leasing him a car, but when word of the mid-air attack came, they rushed to Opa-locka airport to wait for more news. He was then a baseball player, a junior at Westminster High School, but he took the loss of his uncle so hard that he transferred to a school in Boca Raton to get away from it for three years.

 Before he left, he played one more game as an outfielder for his school on a road trip to Sebring. His teammates did not expect him to take the field because he was so upset, but he came in to pinch hit and got a hit.

 ``In the dugout, they all applauded me for the effort,'' said the Florida International University history major. ``But I would have given anything to be with him. To be together
 again.''