Hear No Evil

15

We are the front line in the battle for regional security,” said Lieutenant Damont Johnson.

It sounded like the opening line from a presidential speech, and the lieutenant did have the air of a young leader about him. A handsome and articulate African American, obviously intelligent, the kind of guy you wanted on your side. He might have had a future in politics, if he could tone down the arrogance.

Jack and Sofia were seated on one side of the conference table. The lieutenant and the JAG lawyer, Captain Kessinger, were on the other. Kessinger wasn’t the lieutenant’s personal attorney, but he was there to make sure that nothing happened to “compromise the government’s interests”-however those interests were defined.

“What does that mean?” asked Jack. “The front line in the battle for regional security?”

“It means we’re in Castro’s backyard. Or,” he said as he glanced at the framed map on the wall, “if you envision the island as a big Cuban iguana with its tail cut off, some people say we’re crawling straight up its asshole.”

“And as America ’s ambassadors to proctology, what’s your mission here?”

The lieutenant almost smiled. He seemed to like the way Jack stayed with him, blow for blow.

“I’m not sure how to answer that,” said Johnson. “The Coast Guard conducts daily operations in the Caribbean theater, many of them out of Guantánamo. By doing that, we protect the United States of America from its two biggest external threats. Drug trafficking and terrorism.”

“Which of those two matters are you personally involved in most?”

“I’d say my time is divided several ways. The two I just mentioned being a big part of my job. Immigration and rescue-recovery matters being equally important.”

“By ‘immigration’ you mean illegal immigration matters, I assume.”

“Depends how you define illegal.”

“You’re not there to give away green cards, are you?”

The JAG lawyer grumbled. “Mr. Swyteck, I realize that this is not a formal deposition, but I don’t think there’s any need for sarcasm. The lieutenant is here on his own time, on a volunteer basis. You could at least be polite.”

“Fair enough,” said Jack. “Lieutenant Johnson, if I’ve offended you, I apologize. But let me go about it this way. You’re Coast Guard. Oscar Pintado was a Marine. Correct?”

“That’s right.”

“And you guys were friends?”

“That’s right. Best friends.”

“Right. Best friends. Now, that’s probably not as unusual as a joint tailgate party between a midshipman and a West Point cadet at the annual Army-Navy football game, but it still strikes me as a little out of the ordinary that two guys in two different branches of service would become best friends.”

“We hit it off. What can I say?”

“How? What is it that made you guys such good friends?”

“I don’t know. What makes anybody friends?”

Jack shrugged. “Common interests?”

Again the JAG lawyer mumbled. “Mr. Swyteck, I don’t represent Lieutenant Johnson here, but I feel compelled to point out that the man is taking time off duty for this interview. He has more important things to do than ponder the essence of friendship. I mean, this isn’t Oprah.”

“Here’s my point,” said Jack. “Oscar Pintado’s father is the founder of Brothers for Freedom. He has flown thousands of hours over the Florida Straits looking for Cuban rafters, hoping to bring them to America. You are an officer in the Coast Guard. You look for rafters every day, trying to return them to Cuba. Am I stating this fairly?”

“Basically, yes.”

“Yet, you and the son of Alejandro Pintado became best friends. What’s that all about?”

“You’re analyzing it too much. Oscar and I would go out, have a few a beers, shoot some pool. When you’re surrounded by razor wire all day long, you don’t usually talk about the world’s problems when you get some R and R.”

“Did you ever meet Oscar’s father?”

“Nah.”

“You know he’s a very wealthy man, right?”

“Yeah, I heard that.”

“If someone were to say that Lieutenant Johnson was buddying up to Oscar Pintado just because he likes to have rich friends, how would you respond?”

“I’d say that sounds like Lindsey Hart talking.”

“How so?”

The JAG lawyer spoke up. “Excuse me, but Lieutenant Johnson volunteered to tell what he knows about the death of Captain Pintado. Why is it that you seem interested in talking to him about anything but that?”

“Why is it that you seem interested only in reminding him every five minutes that he’s here on a volunteer basis and doesn’t have to answer my questions?”

“Because he’s a busy man, and he should be made aware of his options.”

“He’s aware. Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d sit tight and let me get answers to the questions I’d like to ask.”

“Fine. Ask away.”

“What was the question?” asked the lieutenant.

Jack said, “I’m just trying to get a sense for how you felt about the captain’s wife.”

The lieutenant said, “You mean before or after she shot her husband?”

“You think she shot him?”

The JAG lawyer grimaced. “Mr. Swyteck, come on. He has no way of knowing one way or the other. And I don’t think it’s appropriate to ask him to speculate on that matter.”

“I think he’s doing just fine,” said Jack. “Lieutenant, is there some reason you don’t want to answer my question? Do you think Lindsey Hart shot her husband?”

“Yeah, I think she shot him. Everybody thinks she shot him. That’s why I was glad to hear she got indicted.”

“Why do you think Lindsey Hart shot her husband?”

The JAG lawyer slapped his palm on the table. “This is going beyond speculation. You’re asking him to make wild guesses about very serious matters, and I don’t see how any of this is helpful to the investigation. I’m not his lawyer, but frankly, if I were, Lieutenant Johnson and I would be on our way out the door.”

The lawyer rose from his seat, as if expecting the lieutenant to join him.

Jack looked at the lieutenant and said, “You gonna listen to the lawyer who’s not your lawyer, or you gonna answer my question?”

“I don’t see how he could responsibly answer that question,” said the JAG lawyer.

“No, no,” said the lieutenant. “I want to answer.”

“You don’t have to,” said Kessinger.

“And you don’t have to stay,” the lieutenant told him.

Captain Kessinger slowly returned to his seat beside the witness. Then the lieutenant looked at Jack and said, “I actually liked Lindsey Hart. When she was on her medication.”

“Her medication?”

“Yeah. She misses a few pills and-whoa. Good-bye.”

“Medication for what?”

“Not sure. Oscar never told me anything specific, but if you want my opinion, I’d say the woman is bipolar or something.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Many, many things. But let me give you just one example that you can probably relate to. Did she do that thing with her cell phone for you yet?”

“Cell phone?”

“Yeah. When she flips open her phone and points to the numbers stored in her address book. All those important people she says she could call in a heartbeat.”

Jack didn’t answer, but he couldn’t help the look on his face.

The lieutenant smiled and said, “She did do it for you. I knew it. Admittedly, it wouldn’t have the same impact on you in Miami as it did on me here in Cuba. Cell phones aren’t much use in Guantánamo, so it was weird enough that she was walking around with one. But that Nancy Milama connection was truly special. Oh yeah, as if Lindsey Hart is going to pick up her cell phone and call Nancy Milama. Do you know who Nancy Milama is?”

“Lindsey told me that she was married to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.”

“Yeah. Was married.”

“They’re divorced?” asked Jack.

“Uh-uh. Tony Milama is a widower. His wife, Nancy, died three years ago.”

Jack was speechless.

“So let me make this clear to you, Mr. Swyteck. It’s a terrible thing that happened to my friend Oscar. But truthfully, I’m more scared for his son, stuck living with that wack-job mother of his.”

Jack still couldn’t speak.

The lieutenant looked at the JAG lawyer and said, “Now I think it’s time for me to get back to work.” He pushed away from the table, and the lawyer followed.

“Thanks for your time,” said Jack.

The lieutenant stopped at the door and said, “You’re welcome.” He seemed ready to move on, then added, “You want a little free advice, Mr. Swyteck?”

“Sure.”

“Not sure what you expected to find when you came down here. But we have two basic rules here at Guantánamo. First, the important stuff is always simple.”

“What’s the second?”

He smiled wryly and said, “The simple things are always hard.”

Jack added a silent “Amen” to that, keeping his thoughts to himself as the two officers shared a little laugh and left the conference room.