|My wife and I were there when they arrived at six o'clock in the morning.
An FBI SWAT Team landed in a helicopter on the top of our building, and came down with
their gas masks, bullet proof vests, and automatic weapons. It was a military operation.
Another team came up from the ground. They said, "This is the FBI and we want to
search." I asked, "Do you have a search warrant?" to the head of the team.
He said, "No," and I closed the door. They proceeded to tear the door down, and
take over the house. They drove my wife, Coqui, from bed with a machine gun in her back.
They pushed her up against the wall. The guy who was pointing the gun at her was
hysterical: "Put your arms up! Get down on the floor!" His hands were shaking.
They occupied the house until six o'clock in the afternoon. They went through everything.
They took away all of Coqui's writings, a novel she was working on, all her poems, a whole
darkroom. It looked like we had moved out when they left. I felt very powerless, very
frustrated. It was like "1984" is here. Meanwhile, thirteen people were arrested
that day. I was arrested as an afterthought seven months later.