A Father's Love (31 page)

Alone, back in my room, I turned down the volume on the television. The sudden silence and loneliness enveloped me, and I felt as though it would squeeze the breath right out of me.

It had not been a good day. I prayed that perhaps tomorrow would be better. But I had been mouthing that silent prayer since the day I first learned Sean had been abducted. Now, nearly six years later, alone in a hotel room in Brazil, a country whose legal system I could not understand, a nation whose language I did not speak, all I could do was pray one more time. “Dear God, please let my son come home.”

U
NFORTUNATELY, TUESDAY STARTED OUT MUCH LIKE MONDAY, with nothing but silence coming from the Supreme Court in Brasília. Justice Mendes arrived at his office around 11:00 AM, but seemed in no hurry to issue his decision. Paulo Roberto Andrade called us, however, with a bit of encouraging news. When a staff adviser to Gilmar Mendes learned of the Brazilian family's latest appeal to the Superior Tribunal of Justice, the adviser muttered, “This is devious. What do these guys think they are doing?” In my hotel room in Rio, Marcos considered the adviser's comment to be indicative of his boss's attitude. I hoped he was right.

In the meantime, Tricia had been working with law enforcement officials regarding Sean's safe return to the United States. Even if air marshals were on a commercial flight, they might not be able to provide protection for Sean and me. We were concerned about the abductors booking the same flight on a commercial airline and making a scene, or reporters subjecting Sean to further intense media scrutiny.

Benita Noel called to let me know that NBC had sent a private jet, a Gulfstream G-4, to get her crew home for the holidays. She said that she had room on the plane for Sean and me, if and when we were free to leave. Congressman Smith would have to fly commercially, since House ethics rules prohibit members of Congress from accepting travel from corporations. Although Benita hadn't said so directly, I understood that the plane was going to leave before Christmas, with or without Sean and me.

Some of the NBC crew had flown to Rio on the same flight as I had. Others flew in from Texas, or were pulled from assignments elsewhere to meet up in Brazil. Most of the crew, however, lived in New York's metropolitan area, so they would be flying back to New York, close to our home. I knew that if I accepted the ride on the NBC plane, they would be getting exclusive coverage. I was okay with that; after all, I felt personally beholden to NBC for their coverage, and they had always handled our interviews with the utmost respect, compassion, and professionalism. But the most important concern was how to safely transport Sean, without exposing him to any physical or psychological dangers. I accepted their offer; it removed a great burden from my shoulders. While I was ready to fight through what surely would be a media frenzy at Brazil's Galeão Airport, and fly into Newark or JFK if we had to, I really didn't want to put Sean through even more chaos. The NBC arrangement would allow us to get out of Brazil and back home to the United States with the least amount of stress on Sean and in the shortest amount of time. But first, we had to get Sean.

 

 

TUESDAY MORNING, SILVANA Ribeiro, perhaps sensing that public opinion was turning against her family, issued an “open letter” through the press to President Lula. In Brazil, she wrote, when there is a death of the mother in the family, the grandmother cares for the child. “That's how it's done in Brazil,” she said, “from north to south, regardless of race, religion, or social class. It's natural that foreigners, with a different foundation, would not understand these authentically Brazilian feelings.” For someone who had aided and abetted in the abduction of Sean, this was really a stretch, trying to elicit nationalistic sentiments from the public—and from one person in particular, Justice Mendes. When asked about Silvana's plea, I reminded people that Sean had another set of grandparents, Barry and Ellie Goldman, and other relatives who had not seen or talked with him in more than five years. Few people thought Silvana's ploy would be effective, but we didn't know.

 

 

SHORTLY BEFORE NOON, Chief Justice Mendes received a visitor at his Supreme Court office, Marcio Bastos, a former justice minister under President Lula. When Ricardo and his team learned about the visit, they were intrigued. Why would such a powerful man be dropping in on the chief justice a few days before Christmas? I could only hope that some of the political pressure applied to the Lula administration was finally making an impact, but there was no way to be sure.

Each tick of the clock on Tuesday seemed to reverberate through my brain. Why was it taking so long? This was a clear-cut, black-and-white case. Why wouldn't the Supreme Court Justice say it and be done with it?

By three in the afternoon, we still had heard nothing from Brasília. Then Andrade called Ricardo. The news was not good. The Ribeiros and Lins e Silvas had filed a second provisional custody appeal with the Superior Tribunal of Justice. There was nothing we could do but helplessly sit and wait, hoping that the lower court appeals would not influence the Supreme Court chief justice's decision.

By the end of the day, Mendes had issued no ruling. Our nerves were frayed, conversations terse. Several of our team watched the evening national news together, hoping we might get a hint about the decision, but the reports were more of the same. “We're expecting a decision at any minute.”

Benita wanted to have a camera crew in my hotel room when the decision finally came down, but I really didn't want that. She took the crew to Ricardo's room instead, where he and Marcos and Orna Blum waited impatiently. Even Ricardo's stalwart attitude was shaken. “Actually, yesterday morning I was confident about the Supreme Court's decision,” he said. “But I'm not anymore. It's taking too long.”

Around 9:00 PM, Orna Blum received a call from an Associated Press reporter. She couldn't be certain whether the reporter was merely fishing for information, but she repeated his words aloud to Marcos and Ricardo: “AP is reporting a message on Twitter from the Supreme Court. Mendes is coming out in support of the Goldman side!”

Marcos starting whooping and hollering so loudly Ricardo could barely make out Orna's words as she continued to pass along the information from the AP reporter, but he heard all he needed to know: “Annul the injunction and return the boy to his father.” When he calmed down, Marcos called Paulo Roberto Andrade in Brasília, and the lawyer confirmed the report.

Ricardo called me in my hotel room. “We won, man. He annulled the injunction. I don't know the details of the ruling yet.”

My heart nearly leaped out of my chest.
Could it really be true? Are Sean and I really going to be reunited this time? Will we be able to go home?
For a minute or so, I couldn't hear anything else Ricardo was saying. Finally, the thumping in my heart calmed down to the point where I heard him still talking, reminding me not to start celebrating yet, to be cautious. “First I need to read the text of the ruling. This has happened before and we haven't been able to enforce the ruling. We've been through this before and we haven't managed to carry it out. So let's read the whole thing calmly and see where to begin. Get some rest, and we will talk as soon as I have everything in my hands.”

When the full text of Chief Justice Mendes's ruling appeared on the Web site Consultor Juridico, Ricardo was ecstatic. Within a few minutes the news was out: Chief Justice Mendes, in a thirty-page written decision, ruled that Sean must be returned to me immediately. Certainly, as in so many of the rulings, the potential for appeal was there, but it seemed unlikely that the court would entertain further appeals. In fact, Mendes seemed to be closing the door on any further appeals by saying, “Registering the legal ruling on the premises of fact, there are no more ways to challenge them, whether ordinarily or extraordinarily.” Justice Mendes's ruling was emphatic: It is over.

Congressman Smith was sitting a few feet away from me when I received the call from Ricardo. He saw the expression of relief and elation cross my face as I broke into a huge smile, and he could interpret the message without my saying a word. I quickly sobered up. “I'm not going to let my guard down until it's wheels up,” I said, repeating my often-stated commitment.

Benita knocked on my door and entered, followed by her camera crew wanting to get my reaction on tape. I'm sure they were hoping for some dramatic response on my part, but when Benita asked me how I felt, I could think of only one answer: “When are we leaving? When will this really end?”

Following Ronald Reagan's adage of “trust but verify,” Congressman Smith encouraged the embassy representatives to notify local and national law enforcement, and the international police agency, Interpol, lest Sean's Brazilian family try to spirit him out of the country before a transfer could be facilitated. Congressman Smith then spoke with reporters late Tuesday night and told them that the authorities had been notified, just in case the Lins e Silva and Ribeiro camp got any bright ideas. He hinted that such a foolish move would discredit their reputations even more. “Our hope,” he said, “is that given the prominence of this family in legal circles, that's less likely to happen.”

Back in Washington, Senator Lautenberg lifted his hold on the GSP legislation, releasing the more than $2.75 billion in benefits to Brazil. The Senate quickly passed the bill.

I received a phone call from my dad that night. He and my mom had heard the good news, although I could still sense the anxiety in his voice. “Keep your fingers crossed,” I told him, “and keep up those prayers and hopes.”

The following morning, Ricardo and Marcos went to work hammering out the details of the handover of Sean to me, having to fight with Sergio Tostes, who was now willing to meet face-to-face with my attorneys, over every tiny aspect of the transfer. Even before Chief Justice Mendes had rendered his decision, Tostes and the lawyers for the Lins e Silvas and Ribeiros had wanted to discuss the “terms” under which they would “agree” to peacefully relinquish Sean.
Peacefully? Peacefully relinquish Sean? What does that mean?
As part of those conditions, Silvana wanted to fly back to the United States on the same plane with Sean.

“No. No, no, no!” I reacted when Ricardo informed me of Silvana's conditions. “This is not an
agreement
. Sean's coming home because he is being returned by the courts. Six years is far too late to be considering an agreement under which these people would be exonerated of all their wrongdoing. I'm sticking with the law. I've worked with the law, waiting patiently for the law to work for me, and this is not a negotiated agreement. These people have been unlawfully holding my son, and I am not going to sign any agreement that does not hold these people responsible for the torture they have put my son through. No, she is not coming on the plane.” I also consulted with Tricia Apy, who repeated in no uncertain terms that Silvana could not fly to the United States with us.

I could see the fatigue in Ricardo's face. He had given this case his best effort, and we were so very near to closure. He encouraged me to make a deal. “David, if that is what it takes to get Sean home, do it. Who knows what these people might do? They might try to take your son, flee the country, and hide.” He pressed further, “Look, if you want to get this done, let her on the plane.”

“No, Ricardo. I am not going to do it.”

Then Tostes added, “And I want to come along on that plane, too. And my wife.”

It was clear that the opposition was simply tossing up one obstacle after another in an attempt to see if we would be willing to compromise. Ricardo realized this and recoiled.

“No!” he practically screamed at Tostes in the negotiating room. “No, no, no! I cannot let the grandmother travel.”

The opposition presented all sorts of other subterfuges. For instance, Silvana wanted to meet with me in their home the day before any exchange of Sean was made, ostensibly to discuss his eating habits and his dietary needs. I agreed to meet with her briefly at the American consulate in Rio.

The kidnappers still demanded to put their own stamp on how they returned Sean. They refused to accept the U.S. consulate's offer to bring Sean into the building through the private, secure garage entrance, which would have made it easy to avoid the media and any potential distress and trauma to Sean out in the streets. Instead, they actually contacted the media and announced that they would park two blocks away and
walk
Sean—dressed in the colors of the Brazilian flag—down the street to the consulate.

 

 

ACCORDING TO THE Supreme Court's orders, the abductors were supposed to deliver Sean to me at the U.S. Consulate no later than 9:00 AM on December 24. The morning of the exchange, I awakened early, feeling extremely nervous. I was hoping for the best, but I knew that anything could happen. The abductors might bring Sean all the way to the consulate and then something could blow up in our faces. I was glad to know that Interpol had been notified in case the Ribeiros or Lins e Silvas, in a desperate last-minute move, attempted to sabotage the handover and flee the country with Sean. We had learned the hard way that these people could not be trusted. We had a court order that Sean was to be returned, and the police stood by on alert. If Sean's grandparents and the Lins e Silva family did not turn him over, the authorities were instructed to go to the home and retrieve Sean.

Benita Noel rose early, left the Marriott unnoticed in a rented van, and headed straight to Galeão Airport, to make sure everything was ready with the plane, and to wait for Sean's and my arrival.