Cops: Cuban-born suspects dominate Fla. pot rings

BEST LOCAL BOY GONE BAD
Demetrio Perez, Jr.

Why do so many sanctimonious people turn out to be wicked? And has there been anyone in public life more sanctimonious than Demetrio Perez? Back in the Eighties, as a Miami City Commissioner, he sought to consecrate the Cuban-exile cause by, among other things, introducing a resolution to have the city honor convicted terrorist Orlando Bosch, handing the violently anti-Castro group Alpha 66 a taxpayer gift of $10,000, and demanding that director Brian De Palma rewrite the script of Scarface to soften its harsh portrayal of Cuban immigrants. Later, as candidates maneuvered for appointment as city manager, he was accused of but never charged with offering to sell his vote for $50,000. As a member of the school board he argued that students should be forced to rise whenever an adult entered their classroom, that the National Guard provide school security, and that uniforms be mandatory at all schools. As a "safety measure" he wanted all students to squeeze through a human cattle chute lined with metal detectors and x-ray machines. Suspension as a form of punishment was ineffective, he argued, and should be replaced with hard labor. All this while lying about where he lived in order to run for his seat on the board. And don't forget his shrill pronouncements against the violence fostered by America's gun culture -- this from a man whose concealed-weapon permit allowed him to pack heat at all times, which he did with relish and without apology. He even was arrested carrying two handguns through a security checkpoint at Miami International Airport. His chain of private Lincoln-Martí schools teach a rigid and hateful form of moral discipline, to which he gleefully subjected little Elian Gonzalez while simultaneously and shamelessly exploiting the boy for publicity purposes. But the end of Perez's long turn on the public stage revealed the depths of his depravity. A rich man, he was caught stealing $18,000 in rent and subsidies from two elderly women who were his tenants. In September he pleaded guilty to five federal criminal charges, but he escaped prison time. Too bad. Some hard labor might have done him good.

Demetrio's Rules

The world according to public school board member Demetrio Perez includes exile philosophy, Elian propaganda, and old-Havana-school politics.

By Ted B. Kissell
Published on June 15, 2000

Those who know Demetrio Perez say they rarely see the man, publicly or privately, without a suit and tie. Whatever else his critics and his supporters say about him, no one can deny the Miami-Dade County School Board member and private school kingpin is a snappy dresser.

Still, he will drop the semiformal attire for a special occasion, such as the April 29 rally on SW Eighth Street in Little Havana to protest the federal government's forcible removal of Elian Gonzalez from his great-uncle's home. As the massive crowd, numbering in the tens of thousands, milled about, waved Cuban and other flags, and brandished anti-Castro, anti-Clinton, and anti-Reno placards, many of them were treated to an unusual sight: Demetrio Perez, his bald, perpetually ruddy pate shining in the sun, walking down Calle Ocho in a T-shirt.

It wasn't just any T-shirt. On the front it bore the red, white, and blue shield (based upon the Cuban flag) of Lincoln-Martí Schools, the chain of bilingual private schools founded by Perez's father in 1968. Below the shield were emblazoned the words, «Elian, niño milagro, miracle child.» On the back was a silkscreen black-and-white photo of Elian himself wearing the uniform of Lincoln-Martí Schools, which he attended for much of his brief sojourn in Miami.

And Perez was not alone. With the assistance of Lincoln-Martí faculty, he shepherded a phalanx of Elian's classmates through the parade. Each of the adorable little tykes was wearing the «niño milagro» T-shirt, and they carried a banner declaring Lincoln-Martí Schools to be «la escuela de Elian.»

These images of Perez and the children smiling and waving were featured prominently in the pages of Libre, the free weekly newspaper published by Perez. Most of that week's issue was devoted to the rally, including photos of the keynote speaker, Armando Perez-Roura of Radio Mambí (WAQI-AM 710), perhaps the most powerful opinion-maker of el exilio's old guard. Of course Perez-Roura also has a weekly column on the inside front page of Libre. And of course Demetrio Perez also has a daily talk show on Mambí. Thus nearly everyone whose opinion matters to Perez will know who was the educational benefactor of little Elian.

«He does things sometimes that are offensive to the American mainstream, because his paradigm is not American, it's Cuban,» says Maurice Ferre, who served as mayor of the City of Miami while Perez was a city commissioner in the Eighties, and who also considers himself a friend. «He's like a ward politician in Havana from the Thirties or Forties. He's a man out of time and out of place, in the wrong country and the wrong century.»