By JOHN DORSCHNER
Herald Staff Writer
Every Wednesday night, they gather around a glass dining table in a West Dade home. Clutching a typed agenda, they set to work, discussing the numbered items while sitting stiffly upright, without even a cup of coffee or a soft drink, as they go about the business of remembering.
Their sole goal: to make certain people don't forget the four men who died on Feb. 24, 1996, when Cuban MiGs shot down two Brothers to the Rescue planes.
The group, which usually consists of about 10 people, are close relatives of the four. They call themselves C.A.M.P. 4 Justice -- the acronym standing for the first names of the victims: Carlos Costa, 29; Armando Alejandre Jr., 45, Mario de la Peña, 24; and Pablo Morales, 29.
They began meeting shortly after the incident, ``to make some sense out of what happened,'' says Maggie Khuly, an architect who is Alejandre's sister. But very quickly, the group shifted from psychological support to political action.
None of the four families had known each other before the shoot-downs. None had been active in exile politics, but they found a common bond.
``We are four families from very different backgrounds,'' says Khuly. ``Some of us are conservative. Some aren't. We don't agree on a heck of a lot of stuff, but we have a simple message: Four people flying in small, unarmed planes were murdered while flying in international waters, and we don't want the world to forget.''
The core of the group consists of Alejandre's widow and three sisters, de la Peña's parents, Costa's parents and sister. Pablo Morales is usually represented by a cousin, Edilfa Pérez.
To fulfill their mission, the relatives have become world travelers over the year that's passed. Some flew to Geneva to testify before a United Nations panel. Ten rushed to Rome when Fidel Castro went to see the pope; they held press conferences to tell European journalists that Cuba ignores fundamental human rights. Several times, they have gone to Washington -- to meet President Bill Clinton and to testify before Congress.
One particularly memorable moment came in Montreal when a U.N. aviation team convened to investigate the shoot-downs. In a lobby, while Ricardo Alarcón, president of the Cuban National Assembly, was telling a television journalist about the MiGs stopping ``the terrorists,'' four relatives stood silently in the background, each holding a photo of a victim.
As they travel, the group has sensed that many people throughout the world tend to dismiss them as ``Cuban exiles,'' because that is the way the victims are often described in news reports.
But Mirta Méndez, a banker who is the sister of Carlos Costa, notes: ``Three were American citizens. Both Carlos and Mario were born in America. They were Americans, flying American planes, in international waters.''
Khuly: ``It's like we fall into this special category. `Well, if you're a Cuban in Miami, so you're going to be irrational and ultra-right wing.' And then they don't want to listen to us.''
In fact, the group is anything but ultra-right. De la Peña's father, Mario, an accountant, describes himself as ``center-left,'' and Khuly was one of those who, some months ago, spoke up in defense of Cuban pianist Gonzalo Rubalcaba, whose appearance in Miami led to vociferous objection from some who claimed he was too close to the Castro regime.
Because of their disparate backgrounds, the group doesn't speak out on the Helms-Burton Act, the controversial get-tougher-on-Cuba law. Though the law was enacted with bipartisan support as a direct result of the shoot-downs, the group takes no position on it:
``Some of us are for it, and some of us are against it, but that's not our focus,'' says Khuly. ``Our focus is very narrow. We want murderers brought to justice. We want international condemnation of this in as many places as we can get it.''
In federal court in Miami, they are attempting to sue Cuba, using a new anti-terrorist law. They are also asking the international court in The Hague to return indictments, the way that accused Serbian killers were brought to justice. At the moment, both are judicial longshots, ``but we feel we need to try everything we can,'' says Cristina Alejandre.
For those involved, this remains an intense ordeal. Osvaldo and Mirta Costa have kept Carlos' bedroom precisely the way he left it: his computer in the corner, his TV-VCR, the photos of planes on the walls, right down to the cheap digital watch on his dresser. They haven't changed the sheets on his bed, nor moved the clothes in his closet. At the back of the closet is the duffle bag he packed that last day, for a trip to the beach when he returned from his Brothers flight. The bag still has suntan lotion, swimming suit and towel.
``Hmmm,'' mumbled Carlos' sister, Mirta Méndez, one evening as she peered into Carlos' closet. ``This isn't healthy. They should be getting rid of some of this stuff.''
But her mother shook her head no.
Last fall, each of the four families received $300,000. President Clinton told them he was disbursing the money from Cuban assets that the United States froze after breaking relations with Castro.
The payment has done nothing to change the lifestyles of the relatives -- who continue working at their same jobs and living in their same homes -- but it has helped to continue their travels, since they have been paying for everything out of their own pockets.
On one recent Wednesday, they spent two hours discussing plans for the upcoming anniversary of the shoot-down. They arranged for press releases (``Don't forget Radio Martí''), then started going through the list of memorial masses planned for the next few days. They have heard about more than 50, arranged by relatives or sympathizers as far away as Philadelphia and Puerto Rico. More than 20 are planned for churches in Cuba.
Their primary attention was organizing an anniversary memorial mass at at St. Agatha's Catholic Church in West Dade for 8 p.m. Monday.
The group was seeing to every detail. Should the program be bilingual? Yes. What about ushers wearing Knights of Columbus uniforms? Marlene Alejandre scrunched her nose and the idea was dropped.
Someone suggested getting Y-100 radio station to play The Impossible Dream dedicated to the four on the anniversary weekend. A note was made.
Already, the group is looking toward its second year. Next month, 10 will fly to Washington to testify before a committee of the Organization of American States.
``Now we're a family,'' says Mirta Méndez. ``All four families are working for one thing. And I think that's exactly the way they who died would have wanted it to be.''
Copyright © 1997 The Miami Herald