Norberto Cintrón Fiallo We first heard of Norberto Cintrón while he was at the Metropolitan Prison, New York City. Norberto had committed no crime. He had been sentenced to eighteen months imprisonment for refusing to collaborate with the Federal Grand Jury. As a staunch independentista, he refused to recognize its jurisdiction over him. Norberto's zeal for independence stemmed from family involvement in revolutionary liberation causes in the Dominican Republic, where his mother was a citizen. He was born there, and his brother, Frederico, in Puerto Rico. His Puerto Rican father was a member of the Nationalist Party of Pedro Albizu Campos. Family conversation often centered around such heroes as Betances, Bolívar, and San Martín. He was taught to love his adopted country, Puerto Rico, and resist its domination by the United States. Starting out as a factory worker, Norberto entered union activities. For twelve years he served as president of Gremio Puertorriqueño de Trabajadores, working not only for fair wages but for safe working conditions. Being a union organizer subjected Norberto to all sorts of harassment. American corporations were doing their utmost to destroy unions, since part of the enticement to open branches in Puerto Rico was the abundance of cheap labor. A bomb was once placed in front of his office. His life was threatened. He was arrested on a false charge of having robbed a bank. He served six months on this charge before being exonerated. Police then sought to involve him in the Sabana Seco shooting of United States' Navy men, though he was attending a union meeting at the time. Then came the call to answer questions of the Grand Jury. Upon refusal to cooperate, he was sentenced to eleven months. Originally formed for the protection of citizens' rights, the Grand Jury now collaborates with the FBI in the harassment of anyone opposing the colonial status of Puerto Rico—mainly independentistas and union organizers. Refusal to answer to the Grand Jury originally brought a sentence for civil contempt. But Norberto's brother, Frederico, was later sentenced for criminal contempt, which brought a much stiffer sentence. In Norberto's statement to the Grand Jury, he told of his dedication to the establishment of a Republic, where there would be neither inequality, nor injustice, nor exploitation of man by man; no abuse of power, a country free from colonial dependency. Upon Norberto's release, the job he secured was suddenly withdrawn. The company found out that he had been a union organizer. Wherever he turned, he met with the usual reluctance to hire an independentista. Fortunately, his wife, charming, talented, and stunningly beautiful, was able to hold her teaching position, despite her independentista sympathies. But Norberto's chances of employment were still slim. Norberto published a collection of his thoughts and poems while in prison. They reveal a sensitive and compassionate soul. In an introduction, his mother, also a teacher, writes, "Do you want to know who Norberto is? Read, and you will know. You will know what he struggles for, for you, for me, for himself, for all. Read, and you will know a man with integrity—brave and straightforward, forty years of an exemplary life. A great son, loving husband, and sweet father, defender of country and of the humble.... Norberto, my son, my life, my enchantment, my all. Country calls you." To his parents he writes, "I am happy to know that I am the son of such marvelous beings, so noble, so honest, so good and understanding. You are the beginning of what my children will be tomorrow." To his young children, Leila and Amaury, he writes, "You are for me like water for the fish. To think about you is to think about country, struggle—struggle to raise people to security and liberation. I love you. It would be easier to be with you every day, to buy you toys, to watch TV. My children, life teaches, and errors are committed. But there are errors which cannot be pardoned. To abandon the struggle, to be a traitor is unpardonable. I prefer death to a life in disgrace." To his wife he writes, "Sad? I won't deny it. Nostalgia? Why not? Melancholy? Of course. Desiring you? You know it. Why deny that it is hard to be away from you. My sad heart clamors for you. I never thought that our separation would cause such an effect, even knowing that we continue to be Eternal Love." To his daughter, after her visit with him in prison: And with your sad look you will ask, "Why, Papa? Tell me, Papa." And I will only embrace you And with a tear will tell you, "Some day you will know."