My dear friend, the late Houston congressman Mickey Leland, once declared: ‘I am as much a citizen of the world as I am of this country.’

Harry Hurt III and Fidel Castro display each other’s books in Fidel’s Havana office in March 1983. Screen grab from television footage.
“Hello, Harry. This is your nigger congressman Mickey Leland. You want to go to Cuba?”
It’s a Monday morning in mid-March 1983. I’m at my writing desk in a rental house in Houston, trying to think up story ideas for Texas Monthly magazine. Mickey’s proposition almost sounds too good to be true. I immediately commit without bothering to get approval from my editor in Austin. Four days later, we’re on a private jet to Havana with a Houston television crew and three of his congressional staffers.
The official purpose of our Cuba trip is to negotiate the release of two American prisoners, a young white couple who hail from a Republican congressional district in north Houston. The Cubans suspect they’re marijuana smugglers, but there’s no hard evidence against them. Their plane crashed on the island, and the husband had the presence of mind to torch it before they were captured.
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