Last night our attorney and beloved friend Leonard Weinglass died. The notice reached me this morning through various messages of friends and families.
This is one of those occasions where there are no words to express the profound sorrow that one feels for the loss of such a beloved comrade in the struggle. Nothing could prepare us for this moment. Just as Len himself showed me many times, my thoughts were always of hope, a hope that he would overcome such a sudden illness.
Today I am remembering many shared moments with him.
One of those, that day of my re-sentencing in the Miami court, where Weinglass hoped that it would just be a matter of a process and that I would receive the least sentence possible, for which he had worked without rest. We all know what finally happened. But there was a very critical moment when the judge scolded the prosecutor about the things that she had argued eight years before, to urge a life sentence that was imposed on me in 2001. I was at Len’s side and I could see his disturbed reaction and surprise, and he looked at me and said, “What’s is this?” And I told him: “Don’t worry, tell her all you want to say, I confide completely in you.” And Len found the precise words, because his heart harbored only the strength of justice and the purity of truth.
We are in the midst of what is considered our last legal recourse, the habeas corpus. With an iron will during those difficult days Len wrote in his bed a memorandum that strengthens our irrefutable arguments. It is difficult to think that now he will now no longer be physically with us, but Len will always be accompanying us. His work and example will serve every step of the way as a guide and stimulus for all the lawyers who will continue defending us honorably and for all the friends who make up the unstoppable solidarity that will bring us home.
Thinking of Weinglass makes me think of Marti:
“Death is not real when one’s life’s work is done well.”
“Even in death, certain men radiate the light of an aurora.”
March 24, 2011