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The 1996 shooting down of two civilian aircraft belonging to the Cuban-American group Brothers to the Rescue has become a focal point of a U.S. murder indictment against former Cuban President Raúl Castro, a case that has reignited tensions between Washington and Havana.

The U.S. indictment, unsealed Wednesday, accuses Castro and five other individuals of involvement in the downing of the planes, which killed four people, including three American citizens.

Cuban President Miguel Díaz-Canel dismissed the charges as “a political manoeuvre, devoid of any legal foundation,” echoing the government’s stance that the legal action is a pretext for further U.S. pressure.

U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio has since described Cuba as a “national security threat” and stated that the likelihood of a peaceful agreement between the two countries is “not high,” signaling continued confrontation.

The announcement of the charges against Castro coincided with a severe 20-hour blackout that left many Cubans unaware of the news and largely incommunicado, as the island grapples with a near-total U.S. fuel blockade that has disrupted daily life.

U.S. President Donald Trump has repeatedly pursued a policy of maximum pressure against Cuba and has openly discussed the goal of toppling its communist government.

Washington has demanded political and economic reforms, though specific conditions beyond a change in leadership remain unclear; possible demands include opening the economy to foreign investment and ending the presence of Russian or Chinese intelligence agencies on the island.

Ana Rosa Romero, a widow in her 70s living on the 11th floor of the Granma Dos social housing block in Havana, described how a blackout forced her to sit with her husband’s body for hours after his recent death because no one could move it.

With the elevator frequently out of service due to power cuts, she said she rarely leaves her apartment, a common hardship for elderly residents in high-rise buildings across the capital.

“You can hardly go out,” said the former philosophy teacher, a framed picture of Fidel Castro on her wall. “If you do venture out, it’s with the uncertainty of not knowing what’s coming next. When is the power due to go out? When is it coming back? How many hours are we going to be without electricity?”

She acknowledged the risk of being at the bottom of the stairs with groceries at her age, but noted that others in the building face even greater challenges.

Building superintendent Juana Garcia said nine residents have pacemakers and cannot risk being trapped without the elevator; others have been stuck inside the elevator for hours during blackouts.

Garcia has spent nearly six months trying to pump water to more than 100 residents with no electricity, and some bedridden elderly neighbors receive water only if someone carries it up several flights of stairs in darkness.

“It’s dangerous to go up and down these stairs without lights. This is such a difficult situation. We know we’re going through tough times, but it’s sad to see this great building stuck in the darkness,” she lamented.

Her hope is that the state can provide solar panels to bring some relief to the residents, especially the most vulnerable.

In another part of Havana, the Barrio Toledo development is testing a new form of social housing using recycled shipping containers.

Approximately 40 disused containers are being repurposed into two-bedroom homes with kitchens and bathrooms; about a dozen are near completion, while others still bear shipping company logos with rudimentary windows cut out.

None of the container homes are yet inhabited as the Cuban state tries to execute the plan amid fuel shortages, envisioning a small community around a children’s playground and a local store.

Critics have said the metal homes will become unbearably hot in the height of Cuba’s summer, but the site foreman, Orlando Diaz, a committed revolutionary, insisted they are a well-ventilated and smart solution to the capital’s acute housing crisis.

“This technique is already being used successfully in other countries,” he said. “We’re just catching up.”

Diaz said he and all workers at the site will participate in a government-organized march on Friday in defense of Raúl Castro against the U.S. murder charges.

Asked whether he thought the indictment was a precursor to military action, he responded by echoing the government line.

“The charges against Raúl are a vile lie,” he said.

“Why did they bring charges against him but not against Luis Posada Carriles?” he added, referring to the late Cuban American militant whom Cuba accused of masterminding the 1973 bombing of an airliner that killed 73 people.

Diaz is well aware of what happened in Venezuela in early January when President Nicolás Maduro was forcibly removed from power by U.S. troops, but he is convinced that if the Trump administration is building toward the use of force in Cuba, the outcome will be different.

“Venezuela is Venezuela, but Cuba is Cuba,” he said defiantly. “And here we don’t lack the necessary courage to face this moment.”

Back at her 11th-floor apartment, Ana Rosa Romero looked out from her balcony across the Estadio Latinoamericano baseball stadium, where a decade earlier she had seen Barack Obama and Raúl Castro watch a game together.

Today, she contemplates the prospect of U.S. military action on her doorstep.

“At my age, I know I’m going to die in Cuba,” she said matter-of-factly. “We’ve faced so many things over the years. And if now we have to face an invasion, then I guess we’ll face that too.”

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“summary”: “U.S. charges former Cuban President Raúl Castro in 1996 plane downing; island suffers blackouts and fuel shortages as Havana residents struggle with daily life and contemplate potential invasion.”
}