A Father's Love (20 page)

On Monday, February 9, I was finally permitted to see my son. I was anxious, very anxious. Sean and I met at the swimming pool in the condo complex where Ray and Silvana lived. It wasn't the ideal situation. We were smack in the middle of all the units, and I felt sure that everyone in the place—including Sean's grandparents—was glaring at us from behind tinted windows, but after four and a half years, I was thrilled to be able to see Sean anywhere. I sat down at a table by the pool and waited for him to appear, another insulting condition. I wasn't allowed in the building to call on my own child. Finally I saw him come out of the building and head toward the area in which I was waiting. He walked up the steps to the pool area and our eyes met. At that moment nothing else mattered. I restrained myself from sprinting over to him and squeezing him. Instead, I stood slowly, wearing a great big smile, and we met halfway. We hugged like any father and son would. I had to fight back the tears as I stepped back to gaze at my son. He was eight years old now, and had grown so much. His hair had lightened a bit and wafted gently over his forehead, but the bright eyes and the contagious smile were still there.

We walked back over to the table where I'd been sitting, where I had photos, candy, and gifts for him. His therapist, employed by the Ribeiros, hovered close to Sean and was practically attached to him at the hip. Sean looked at the photos, and then his bright eyes looked directly into mine. With a twisted face, he asked one of the most horrific questions I'd ever heard. “Where have you been all this time?”

Simply hearing the words come out of his mouth broke my heart all over again, but I knew I had to take the high road. “It's complicated,” I told him. “The courts made things very difficult. I've actually been here many times to see you, buddy. Pop-Pop Barry came, Grandma Ellie came, Cousin George came. We all came to see you. I came many times, but things never worked out. But we're together now, so let's have some fun.”

Sean looked at the therapist, who said, “I know, Sean. Two different stories. It's confusing.”

“Yes, it's confusing,” I said, “and we won't be able to understand everything right away, but we're together now, and we have a lot of catching up to do.” The anguish in his face was painful enough to see. There was no use in explaining any further. I didn't say a word to Sean about the actions of Lins e Silva or his grandparents, who had denied me access to him all these years—in clear violation of the international treaty signed by Brazil years earlier—let alone a violation of our rights as father and son.

“Do you play basketball?” Sean asked.

I quickly snapped out of my reverie. “Sure,” I said.

“Do you want to play?”

“Sure thing. Let's play some basketball.”

Sean went back to the condo to get a basketball. While he was gone, I wondered if he would return. He did.

We walked over to the basketball court—well, actually, the therapist walked with Sean to the basketball court, and I walked behind them, followed by Congressman Smith and Karen Gustafson de Andrade, an official from the U.S. embassy.

Sean tossed me the ball, and we played a game of Around the World, matching each other shot for shot. We paused long enough for Congressman Smith to shoot a photograph of us both smiling together as I threw my arm around Sean. He didn't flinch; instead he nestled against me.

After a while, Sean was tired, hungry, and thirsty. I was told at the hearing that Sean and I would be able to sit down and have lunch together, but when lunchtime rolled around, Lins e Silva and Sean's grandparents had other plans. They had instructed Sean to go back to their condo to have lunch and relax without me.

Not wanting to upset Sean or cause any turmoil, I said, “It's okay, buddy. Go eat and I'll come back in the afternoon and we'll go swimming.”

We said our “see ya laters” with a hug, and I gave him a kiss on his head. Trying to be as calm and normal as possible, I assured him that I would be back. As I left the complex, though, I was furious, thinking,
These people are still interfering at every single turn
.

Nevertheless, Sean and I had been together; we had played ball; he knew me, he remembered me. We had been father and son. Our bond was not broken, despite the conditions imposed by the Ribeiros. I loved my little buddy with every ounce of my being, and what was so sweet and joyous to me was that my little buddy still loved me.

WHEN I RETURNED in the afternoon, the guards would not allow us to drive inside the complex gates. Silvana had complained that we could grab Sean and put him in the diplomatic vehicle and whisk him away to the embassy. We parked on the street and walked into the compound.

Once again I sat at the table by the pool and waited for Sean to arrive. The grandparents seemed to be in no rush for their lunch to conclude. Eventually, after about twenty minutes, Sean came back downstairs again. This time he was accompanied by a man who looked to be in his thirties.
Who is this guy?
I thought.
What are they doing now?

The man introduced himself as Cadu. “I'm Sean's friend,” he said.

“Let's go swimming!” Sean called. We jumped into the pool like two excited friends, and I was glad the pool water obscured the tears I could no longer contain. We laughed and splashed and enjoyed being together.

We were no sooner in the water, however, than Cadu jumped into the pool as well. He kept trying to maneuver his body in between Sean and me. The man who described himself as “Sean's friend” tried to stay close to Sean, usually within a foot or two of him, sometimes closer. It was obvious that he was a plant, intentionally attempting to disrupt our visit. Knowing that we were being watched, I chose to ignore the man, awkwardly moving around him without saying a word each time he positioned his body between Sean and me.

Okay
, I thought,
if he's trying to antagonize me, I'm not taking the bait.
I grabbed a beach ball and tossed it to Cadu. “Let's play catch,” I said. I was there to be with Sean, and I wasn't going to let anything or anyone change that. If anyone would be the odd man out, it would be Cadu.

From an inconspicuous position nearby, Karen and Congressman Smith witnessed the whole thing. The congressman turned on my Flip video camera, clearly capturing in brief segments the actions of the intruder. The congressman came over and introduced himself to the man in the pool, squeezing his hand quite firmly as he did. “And who are you?” the congressman asked.

“I'm Sean's friend,” the lug repeated.

“At your age? You're the friend of an eight-year-old boy?”

We learned that the man was a lawyer and an associate of the Lins e Silvas and Ribeiros sent to observe Sean's and my visit.

Eventually, the antagonist appeared to feel foolish, and he climbed out of the pool. He continued to watch us closely, though, and I could hear him talking on a cell phone while Sean and I played. He was speaking in Portuguese, so I couldn't easily understand him, but I could guess to whom he was speaking.

One of the main things I was happy about—and an aspect of our visit that Sean's grandparents were no doubt angry about—was that when Cadu climbed out, and Sean and I started playing with the beach ball, we were immediately in our own world. Like most boys his age, it was only a matter of minutes before Sean was wrestling with me in the water, hanging all over me, and climbing on my back. We threw that beach ball back and forth, and Sean mischievously tried to bop me when I wasn't looking. I tried not to show any surprise, giving the impression that this was all perfectly normal, but internally, my heart was pounding with joy. Despite all the indoctrination Sean had received from his grandparents and Lins e Silva, telling him what a bad person I was, my son was not at all shy around me. Within minutes of being in the water he was having a great time playing with me. He called me “Dad,” and “Dada,” and I called him “Son.” I didn't make a big deal about our closeness; I simply acted as though his response to me was completely natural—which it would have been had we not been forcibly separated for the past four years. Inside, I was ecstatic; I felt as though fireworks were going off in my heart and mind.

Sean especially seemed to have missed my hugs. At one point he said, “Hug me with maximum force.”

“Maximum force?”

“Yes, hug me with maximum force,” he said with a broad smile. So I hugged him and squeezed him tightly. Sean squealed with delight. “Again,” he said when I released him. “Maximum force!” So I squeezed him tightly to me again. Sean seemed to love it when I hugged him so tightly, and I have to admit, I didn't want those hugs to end.

A short while later, another boy jumped in the water and seemed on a mission to interfere. Sean and I acknowledged him and included him occasionally, but for the most part we kept to ourselves in the pool.

During the afternoon visit, I had brought food and drinks from the hotel so we could hang out and snack together when we got out of the pool. Sean especially loved Twizzlers, so I made sure I brought him a bunch of those.

We swam, played basketball, built a model robot, and looked at some family photos from Sean's years in New Jersey. Sean seemed to recall our home, some of his toys, his bedroom, and the Tom Sawyer “jungle” behind our house. He also remembered our cat, Tuey.

 

 

DESPITE THE RIBEIROS' attempts to impede Sean's and my visit, it was a fantastic few hours. I was with my son, and he clearly seemed to enjoy being with me. At the end of our time together, I walked him to the bottom of the steps leading away from the pool. We hugged, said so long, and I told him, “I love you, son. I'll see you here tomorrow.” As we walked away in opposite directions, I stopped after a few steps and turned to watch Sean heading toward the building. At the same moment, he turned back to me and our eyes locked. We were father and son, and no one could deny us that. I was deeply grateful that after more than four years of separation, with little contact, and under extremely strained circumstances, our father-son bond had not been broken. Damaged, perhaps, but still intact.

I picked up my pictures and other items and prepared to go back to my hotel with Congressman Smith. I had hoped to take Sean with me, but due to the Ribeiros' and Lins e Silvas' insistence that he remain in their compound, I could not. Nevertheless, I felt good about how the visit had gone, and wanted to turn the clock ahead so I could come back to see him again sooner.

Congressman Smith noticed the strong father-son bond between Sean and me, and later confirmed what I felt. “From the moment you guys hugged,” he told me, “it was obvious that this was as strong as a father-son bond could be.”

He then had to fly back to Washington in time to vote on several important bills. I will always be grateful for the five days he took out of his busy schedule to be with me. During that time, we went from one government office to the next, speaking with Brazilian officials. To each person of influence we met, I showed the small collection of family photos and cards I carried with me. We even met with one of the Brazilian Supreme Court justices. She sat in her chambers, with pictures of Sean spread out on her table, and listened intently as I told my story. Congressman Smith sat through one meeting after another, hour after hour, in no hurry, as if he had nothing more important to do. To every Brazilian official we met, he urged, “You have to hear this man; you have to listen to him.” He brought copies of the resolution he introduced in Congress and handed them out to every government official with whom we met. He was like Thomas Paine, the pamphleteer of old, passing out the resolution and letting the officials know “We are well aware of what's going on here, and we are not going away until justice is accomplished. There's only one parent here, and that is David.”

As the congressman and I hugged good-bye, we promised to get together soon. I felt confident that Congressman Smith was returning home with a much greater appreciation for why I'd refused to give up on my son, and how harmful the continuation of this arrangement would be to Sean.

I could not have guessed, however, what a tremendous friend and advocate for Sean and me Congressman Smith would become over the next ten months. In public and behind the scenes, he constantly lobbied for our cause. Whether on the House floor, in private meetings with other legislators, in meetings with the Brazilian ambassador, or at the United Nations, he was relentless in his efforts. At times he joked that he had become my staffer, my press secretary. “I'm working for David, my fellow New Jerseyan,” he often told reporters.