We are ready to do so as free Cubans
Thirty years after Cuban fighter jets destroyed two civilian planes over disputed waters, killing four people connected to a Miami exile group, the United States is moving to indict 94-year-old Raúl Castro — the man who commanded Cuba's military that day. The case, long adjudicated in civil courts and international investigations, is being resurrected as a tool of geopolitical pressure, raising questions about the reach of justice across time, sovereignty, and the unresolved wounds of Cold War enmity. It is a reminder that history does not close on its own; sometimes it is pried back open.
- Four people died in February 1996 when Cuban MiGs shot down two Cessnas flown by a Miami exile group — and a UN investigation concluded the planes were over international waters when they were destroyed.
- A Cuban pilot's radio transmission after the first kill — 'This one won't fuck with us anymore' — captured the contempt at the heart of the incident and inflamed American outrage for decades.
- Cuba has never faced criminal accountability for the shootdown, though civil courts awarded victims' families nearly $187 million in damages and one convicted spy served over a decade in prison.
- The Trump administration is now pushing to indict Raúl Castro, 94, as part of a broader pressure campaign that includes an oil blockade worsening blackouts across the island.
- The move follows the U.S. military's apprehension of former Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro, signaling an aggressive posture toward Cuba's remaining regional allies.
On a February afternoon in 1996, two small civilian planes were shot down over the waters between Florida and Cuba by Cuban fighter jets. Four people died. Thirty years later, the United States is moving to indict the man who led Cuba's military when it happened: Raúl Castro, now 94.
The planes belonged to Brothers to the Rescue, a Miami-based group founded by José Basulto, a Cuban American veteran of the Bay of Pigs invasion. The organization had saved thousands of people fleeing Cuba on makeshift rafts, but also distributed anti-Castro leaflets — making them a target in Havana's eyes. On the morning of February 24, three Cessnas took off from near Miami. Basulto radioed Havana to announce his position; a controller warned he was 'taking a risk.' His reply: 'We are ready to do so as free Cubans.'
Within thirty minutes, a Cuban MiG-29 destroyed the first Cessna, killing one U.S. citizen and one green card-holder. A second plane was hit moments later, killing two American citizens. A radio transcript captured the Cuban pilot's words: 'This one won't fuck with us anymore.' After the second kill: 'Fatherland or death.' Basulto's plane made it back to Florida.
A UN investigation using radar data from a nearby cruise ship — because Cuban and American readings conflicted — concluded the planes were shot down over international waters. It also found Cuba had not attempted less severe measures first, as international law requires. Fidel Castro later said he had issued general orders to prevent airspace incursions but denied specifically ordering the February 24 attack. The U.S. responded by tightening sanctions and suspending charter flights. 'This is no excuse for the attack,' President Clinton said.
In the years that followed, one man was convicted of murder conspiracy for leaking flight information to Cuba, later returned home in a 2014 prisoner swap. Two pilots and Cuba's air force commander were federally charged but never tried. Victims' families won nearly $187 million in civil court.
Now, with the Trump administration imposing what amounts to an oil blockade on Cuba — deepening energy shortages and widespread blackouts — the old case has resurfaced. The push to indict Raúl Castro marks a dramatic new escalation, arriving months after the U.S. apprehended former Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro, a Cuban ally, for prosecution in New York. If it proceeds, the indictment would reopen one of the most volatile chapters in three decades of U.S.-Cuba relations.
On a February afternoon in 1996, two small civilian planes fell from the sky over the waters between Florida and Cuba, shot down by Cuban fighter jets. Four people died. Thirty years later, the United States is moving to indict the man who led Cuba's military when those planes were destroyed: Raúl Castro, now 94 years old.
The planes belonged to Brothers to the Rescue, a Miami-based organization founded in the early 1990s by José Basulto, a Cuban American who had participated in the Bay of Pigs invasion. The group's mission was straightforward—they flew search-and-rescue operations over the waters between the two countries, looking for people attempting to escape Cuba on makeshift rafts. By the mid-1990s, thousands had been saved this way. But the group also distributed anti-Castro leaflets and supported opposition figures, which made them a target in Havana's eyes. Cuban officials accused Brothers to the Rescue of repeatedly violating national airspace and engaging in what they called illegal provocations. They even alleged the group sought to sabotage electrical infrastructure, claims that seemed to originate from a former member who had returned to Cuba.
On the morning of February 24, 1996, three Cessnas took off from Opa Locka Airport near Miami carrying eight people total. Basulto piloted one of them. As they approached Cuban airspace, he radioed air traffic controllers in Havana to announce his position in Cuba's air defense identification zone—the area outside a country's official airspace where aircraft must identify themselves. A controller warned him he was "taking a risk." Basulto's response was defiant: "We are ready to do so as free Cubans."
Within thirty minutes, a Cuban MiG-29 fighter jet destroyed the first Cessna, killing one U.S. citizen and one green card-holder. Moments later, a second plane was hit, killing two American citizens. A radio transcript captured a Cuban pilot's words after the first shootdown: "This one won't fuck with us anymore." After the second: "Fatherland or death." Basulto's plane, carrying him and three crew members, managed to land safely back in Florida. He later recalled telling a colleague in the cockpit, "We are next."
The Cuban government insisted the planes had violated its airspace. But a United Nations investigation by the International Civil Aviation Organization reached a different conclusion. Using radar data from a nearby cruise ship—because Cuban and American radar readings conflicted—the ICAO determined the Cessnas were shot down over international waters, several miles outside Cuban territory. More damaging still, the investigation found that international law prohibits firing on civilian aircraft under any circumstances, and that Cuba had not attempted less severe measures first, such as radio communication or guiding the planes away. Intercepting civil aircraft, the ICAO noted, is supposed to be a last resort.
Fidel Castro later told CBS Evening News anchor Dan Rather that he had issued "general orders" to the military to prevent airspace incursions, though he claimed he and his brother Raúl had not specifically ordered the February 24 shootdowns. In an interview with Time, Fidel said: "We instructed the armed forces that we would not tolerate it again." The United States responded with fury. Within weeks, Congress tightened sanctions. President Bill Clinton suspended charter flights to Cuba and expanded broadcasts by a U.S.-sponsored radio station. "The planes posed no credible threat to Cuba's security," Clinton said. "This is no excuse for the attack, and provides no legal basis under international law for the attack."
Over the following decades, the case moved through multiple courts. One person was convicted of murder conspiracy after prosecutors said he had spied for Cuba and leaked information about Brothers to the Rescue flights; he served over a decade in prison before returning to Cuba in a 2014 prisoner swap. Two fighter pilots and Cuba's air force commander were charged with murder in federal court but never tried. Families of the killed pilots sued the Cuban government in civil court and won nearly $50 million in compensatory damages and just over $137 million in punitive damages.
Now, as the Trump administration has imposed what amounts to an oil blockade on Cuba, worsening energy shortages and causing widespread blackouts, the old case has surfaced again. The push to indict Raúl Castro—who commanded Cuba's armed forces when the shootdown occurred—represents a new escalation in U.S. pressure on the island. It comes months after the U.S. military apprehended former Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro, a Cuban ally, and brought him to New York for prosecution. The indictment, if it proceeds, would mark a dramatic reopening of one of the most volatile chapters in three decades of U.S.-Cuba relations.
Notable Quotes
The planes posed no credible threat to Cuba's security. This is no excuse for the attack, and provides no legal basis under international law for the attack.— President Bill Clinton, days after the shootdown
We instructed the armed forces that we would not tolerate it again.— Fidel Castro, in an interview with Time magazine
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does this case matter now, thirty years later? The pilots are dead, the families have their judgment.
Because it's not really about 1996 anymore. It's about signaling that the Trump administration is willing to pursue the highest levels of Cuban leadership for actions taken decades ago. It's a show of force.
But Raúl Castro is 94. He's retired from power. What's the practical purpose of an indictment?
Probably none, in terms of actual prosecution. He won't be tried. But it sends a message to whoever is running Cuba now, and it satisfies a constituency in Miami that has wanted accountability for this for three decades.
The UN investigation said the planes were in international waters. Does that matter legally?
It should. International law is pretty clear—you can't shoot down civilian aircraft, period. But Cuba has always argued about sovereignty and provocation. They saw Brothers to the Rescue as a threat, not a rescue group.
Was it both?
Probably. They did rescue people. They also dropped leaflets and worked with opposition figures. The question is whether that justified shooting them down. Most of the world said no.