Pedro Aponte Vázquez A letter written in 1931 by an American doctor, Cornelius P. Rhoads, aroused in Professor Pedro Aponte suspicion that Rhoads could somehow have been associated with the torture and death of the great Puerto Rican liberator Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos. Of Puerto Ricans, Dr. Rhoads had written in a letter, "They are beyond doubt the dirtiest, laziest, most degenerate and thievish race of men ever inhabiting this sphere." In this letter he had boasted that "all the physicians take delight in the torture and abuse of the unfortunate subjects." Knowing of Dr. Rhoads' anger toward Albizu for having published and circulated this, he began researching the death of Albizu and possible connections with Dr. Rhoads. Born in Guarabo, Aponte had felt deeply the influence of a pro-independence grandfather. His earliest recollection is feeling at the age of six a sense of repulsion over seeing a neighbor running down the street with an American flag. As an elementary school pupil, it bothered him to salute the American flag and he began to feel an aversion toward North Americans, innately sensing their role as oppressors of his country. Through the influence of his mother he developed a strong sense of justice and love of his country. She used to talk to him about Gandhi and the movement in India for liberation. His father was a policeman, a profession highly respected at that time. Only in later years did people become aware of the oppressive role of the police as they came into violent confrontation with liberation movements. In those days the policeman walking his route had only to beat the pavement with his club to maintain order. Selected for size, strength, and toughness regardless of educational attainment, his role was to protect life and property. Aponte's growing involvement in the cause of independence disturbed his parents, who tried to discourage him. But the seed had been planted early in his life. In his youth he listened avidly to stories of the student strike of 1948 at the University of Puerto Rico (UPR). When his father participated in police action against the 1950 revolution, his sympathies were with the Nationalists. Yet he was concerned also for the safety of his father. High school offered no challenge to his alert and intelligent mind. He became bored, and eager to enter college. Not being permitted to take the GED for a high school diploma, he joined the air force. There he was permitted to take tests to circumvent further high school classes. This career didn't last long due to his rebellion against racial discrimination. After two years he was court-marshaled and given an "undesirable discharge." By then he had acquired his high school diploma and was free to enter college. He chose to major in social sciences at UPR. For advanced studies he entered Fordham University, working toward his M.S. in urban education. Through Aspira, a foundation concerned with school dropouts, he was granted a Rockefeller scholarship. With his M.S. in hand, he went through a long series of jobs in which he faced intolerance toward his support of independence. An administrative job at the Central Office of Personnel Management was cut short when he electioneered for the Puerto Rican Independence Party (PIP). He was fired from a job as insurance salesman when he protested the harassment of a fellow worker. Then from college counselor, to English teacher, to journalist for El Diario, to public relations for the National Puerto Rican Forum, and finally a five-year period of unemployment. This gave him the opportunity of opening a new career—that of research. It was then that he searched out all the information he could about Dr. Rhoads. During World War II, he learned, Dr. Rhoads was an expert in chemical warfare, from there turning to nuclear research as consultant to the U.S. Atomic Commission. He was then assigned by the Rockefeller Foundation to research anemia at the Puerto Rican Presbyterian Hospital, applying to people what had been proven on dogs. Considering the racism prevalent in the United States, and attempts to prove the intellectual superiority of the White race, Puerto Ricans were deemed fit to be used as guinea pigs for medical experimentation. From this came accusations of planned genocide as U.S. corporations and the military sought further economic and territorial control. An oft-quoted quip was that the "yankees" were interested in the cage but not the bird. On the side, Dr. Rhoads researched cancer, boasting that he had killed eight Puerto Ricans and transplanted cancer in others. Rhoads was angered by Albizu's accusations of genocide. With Albizu in prison, the problem was how to eliminate him without arousing suspicion. He was considered a "dangerous enemy whose conscience was not for sale." Hanging, poisoning, beating to death were all too obvious. Radiation seemed a logical solution. Already a group of scientists had initiated experiments in prisons and hospitals to observe the effects of radiation on human beings. Dr. Rhoads was well versed in atomic radiation. It was shortly after a visit to Puerto Rico by Dr. Marshall Brucer, who had experimented with the use of fertilizer with radioactive phosphorous, that Albizu's health declined sharply. He was taken to the very hospital where Dr. Rhoads had conducted his experimentation. Albizu had reported seeing strands of beautiful colors in his cell at La Princesa Prison, corresponding to descriptions of laser beams (from `Light Amplification by Simulated Emissions of Radiation'). Other Nationalist prisoners reported also seeing blue laser beams. At La Princesa, effects of radiation had become evident—swollen legs, raw feet, body covered with radiation burns. Albizu had kept his body wrapped in towels soaked in ice water to alleviate the pain, and he suffered heat flashes and burning sensations. In the 1984 hearings before the U.N. Decolonization Committee, Prof. Aponte reported on his investigations of the past six years. He offered photographs and abundant testimony as to his theories on the death of Albizu. He pointed out that Albizu, as a graduate in physics and chemistry, was well qualified to determine what was happening to him despite efforts to declare him paranoid. I attended a press conference held at the tomb of Don Pedro at which Prof. Aponte asked the president of UPR, Fernando Agrait, to invite a team of pathologists from the United States who, along with Puerto Rican pathologists, would determine scientifically the cause of death. This request has not been granted, but two publications are spreading the word: Yo Acuso and Necator Americanus. Another book is in progress. Aponte's zeal in researching the death of Don Pedro led to an attempt to silence him. He was not rehired in his position at the University, and his book, Yo Acuso, was banned from the University library. He fell victim, apparently, to our government's attempt to suppress the truth. However precarious his means of earning a livelihood, Aponte strives on and refuses to be intimidated. A recent communique from Aponte tells of the "cowardly assassination" of one of his sons. He laments that to date there had been no thorough investigation. He asks that the "probability of political conspiracy as a motive of this tragedy be examined." Such are the hazards of truth-seeking.