Even when I agreed with their cause, I didn't care much for their friends.

I guess what turned me against them was when it became chic to wear t-shirts emblazoned with Ernesto 'Che' Guevara's portrait in a heroic pose.

Che was Argentinian, and a committed and ruthless Marxist of fanatic and brutal determination. You can respect that, at least he was willing to put his life on the line, and he paid the ultimate price for it.

But Fidel picked him as Minister of Security because he was ready to do the job no Cuban was willing to do: sign the death warrants. Cuba is a small country, and every man you kill has friends and relatives. Only a foreigner would want that job.

My stepfather came from a military family. He was a sergeant in the army, his brother a lieutenant. When Castro took over, he offered amnesty to all the forces that he defeated. They were offered a post in the Revolutionary Army. But when my stepfather's brother turned himself in, he was arrested, and eventually executed. My stepfather went into exile.

Che Guevara signed the death warrant. The Revolutionary State Security apparatus was a stickler for the formalities. Every 'i' was dotted, every 't' was crossed.