In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

FOUR When we turned off the paved highway onto the dirt road to Ybycuı́, the going got rough. Bob Garrison backed off, putting more distance between us and the roiling plume of red dust thrown up by Filártiga’s speeding pickup. ‘‘I’m glad it’s Saturday afternoon siesta time,’’ Bob quipped. ‘‘The way Joel drives the clinic would be filled with new patients before we even got there.’’ ‘‘Strange,’’ I said, ‘‘such a gifted physician is also one of the world’s worst drivers.’’ ‘‘I’ll bet they’re pretty nervous right now,’’ Bob said. ‘‘This is the first time they’ve been back since Joelito’s death?’’ ‘‘Right. Today’s May 22. They killed him on March 30. Seven weeks.’’ ‘‘Must be hard.’’ ‘‘Uh-huh,’’ I mused, putting off for the moment Bob’s comment. There was something I wanted to clear up before we reached town. ‘‘By the way,’’ I said, ‘‘last night Filártiga told me you have the honor of being the first U.S. diplomat ever to visit the clinic, or for that matter, Ybycuı́. ‘‘We’re going to cause quite a stir among the local big boys,’’ I predicted. ‘‘That’ll help the myth of Dr. Filártiga’s heavy international support. Within the hour they’ll be on the phone, letting the jefes in Asunción know how the Filártigas arrived home escorted by two U.S. diplomats.’’ ‘‘Two?’’ Bob said. ‘‘Sure. Seeing us ride into town in this big American car, with its cuerpo diplomático license plates, and they’ll assume we’re both from the embassy. And a first-rate impressthe -shit-out-of-you-act calls for at least two envoys from the world’s most powerful nation, don’t you think?’’ Bob’s answer was a satisfied chuckle. Settled in the bucket seat, I marveled at how much had been accomplished in the ten days since arriving in Paraguay. Everything had gone smoothly at the Organization of American States office when I checked in to officially activate my research grant. The staff at the National Archives greeted me like a long lost relative. And I managed to track down some old acquaintances from the embassy. In fact, it was at the home of Jerry Nehman, an agricultural economist who I had become friendly with the year before, that I met Bob and Maria Garrison. Naturally, the after dinner talk turned to the Caso Filártiga. Garrison, the director of the Paraguayan–American Cultural Center, was the best informed. Everyone who 66 兩 B R E A K I N G S I L E N C E frequented the center knew Filártiga, if not personally then through his art, and sympathized with his struggle. The talk went on for hours. The more they learned about what the Filártiga family was going through, the greater became their admiration—and indignation. Out of the blue, Bob casually mentioned that he would like to meet Dr. Filártiga, and perhaps pay a visit to the Clinic of Hope. The young black diplomat’s nonchalant manner did not fool anyone. We all knew of Stroessner’s hypersensitivity to international pressure. Everyone recognized the enormous gift to the Filártigas’ cause that Bob’s act of solidarity was. Delighted, we arranged to have lunch with the family the next afternoon. Filártiga and Garrison hit it off, and Joel invited him to visit the clinic. Yet, when Bob suggested we go to Ybycuı́ that same weekend, Joel became ambivalent. Pleading that the struggle sapped the family’s time and energy, he suggested we hold off for a while. The way Joel put it seemed reasonable. The Filártigas were at it every day, morning to night. Even so, I was not buying it. And I was afraid that if we did not move right away, the opportunity could very well be lost. What if Bob changed his mind or became too busy? What if the ambassador saw Garrison’s involvement in the Caso Filártiga as interference in the internal affairs of the host country—a high diplomatic taboo—and forbade him from making the trip? After lunch, I pulled Joel aside. He saw it coming. Even before I really got started, with a deep sigh that fell somewhere between resignation and relief, Joel raised both hands in mock surrender. 1 Now, as we entered Ybycuı́, Filártiga’s green pickup, with the red crosses Joelito...

Share