JAMES F. McCARTY Herald Staff Writer

For the thousands of followers of santeria in South Florida, the 2-week-old trial under way in federal court in Miami is taking on biblical proportions.
 

But for their opponent, the city of Hialeah, which in 1987 outlawed ritualistic animal sacrifice like that practiced by santeros, the trial is more akin to nuisance abatement.

Frequent courtroom clashes have demanded that U.S. District Judge Eugene Spellman moderate this odd battle. "What gives me the feeling this lawsuit is deteriorating?" Spellman asked of no one in particular last week, his white hair contrasted against a reddening face.

"There's no major animosity between us," Hialeah Mayor Raul Martinez assured a crowd of reporters early in the trial. "They think they're right, and we think we're right. It's not like a major divorce case."

A divorce trial would be too simple. Different courts already have outlawed marijuana and deadly snakes for religious purposes. Spellman, however, is being asked to decide if ritual sacrifice of animals by santeros should also be illegal.

Some of the city's expert witnesses consider the santeros worse than snakes or drugs.

"A bloody cult" is how Marc Paulhus, director of the southeast regional office of the Humane Society, described santeria, "whose continued presence further blights the image of South Florida."

Paulhus called the santeria deity, Lukumi Babalu Aye, a "god of pestilence."

Based largely on research by Paulhus and the Humane Society, the Hialeah City Council passed its controversial ordinance in August 1987. The council argued that animal sacrifice is inhumane, that improperly disposed of animal carcasses are a health risk, and that sacrificial acts can have severe emotional effects on children.

The ordinance was passed about the time that Ernesto Pichardo, a santeria minister, tried to bring santeria worship
from the secrecy of homes to the openness of a new public church.

"We've been forced to practice our faith as if we're outlaws," Pichardo said last week. "We've been subjected to nothing but discrimination since we came to the New World 400 years ago."

The santeros want the ordinance overturned. All they ask for is the freedom to practice their religion without persecution, Pichardo said.

Santeria is an Afro-Caribbean religion brought to South Florida primarily by Cuban immigrants in the past 30 years. Its rituals include the sacrifice of chickens, ducks, turtles, goats and other animals. Usually, the animals are ritually cooked and eaten, Pichardo said.

The Bible recounts how Abraham slew a calf to sacrifice to his God, and millions of Judeo-Christian readers of that passage seldom bat an eyelash.

But if Pichardo sacrifices an animal, he's called a
criminal. He doesn't think that's fair.

True, the Hialeah attorneys have said, but Abraham didn't rip the calf's head off, cut out its gut and shove pennies into the cavity -- a condition in which Humane Society officials sometimes find animals in parks near Hialeah, they testified.

"That's the main problem: the cruelty and disposal of animals," Mayor Martinez said. "You don't eat the head of a goat or the shell of a turtle. They're disposed . . . in our parks, and on our streets and in our rivers. We have pictures."

While animal carcasses left to fester in neighborhoods can breed disease, none of the health officials called to testify said they have seen such an outbreak in South Florida.

The city may have scored points with expert testimony about the effect of santeria on children.

"The issue is child welfare, not just disposal," said Richard Garrett, an attorney for the city. "If children are being exposed to sacrifices of animals, it's not in their best interests."

L. Rowell Huesmann, a psychologist from the University of Illinois at Chicago who specializes in the development of
violent behavior, warned of the permanent emotional imprint that graphic animal sacrifices can have on children of santeros.

"Repeated observations of actions of violence against an animal by a person of prominence is likely to increase the instances of violence in the way children treat animals or other human beings," he testified.

The church's attorney, Jorge Duarte, was incredulous.

"What about Moses?" he asked, referring to the biblical figure's sometimes violent portrayal in the movie The Ten Commandments. "Children on farms? Viewers of Rambo and Dirty Harry? The Super Hero cartoons?"

To which Judge Spellman interjected, "Don't give away what you do on Saturday mornings, Mr. Duarte."

Later, outside court, Duarte attacked the testimony of Paulhus and Huesmann.

"I think (Huesmann) would have objected to Mickey and Minnie Mouse if he had the chance," Duarte said.

Paulhus, he said, is guilty of indicting santeria for all the bizarre acts of the myriad Afro-Caribbean cults, such as Palo Mayombe, found around Miami.

"It's already against the law to throw a dead animal on the road, or in a park or in a river," Duarte said. "Santeria disposes of its animals properly -- in the garbage."

Paulhus presented a rogues' gallery of animal carcasses on a film projector: a sow's uterus with fetuses strung from a tree branch; a headless turtle and chickens on the ground, with evidence their heads were ripped off.

It's a slow death, he said.

"The brain remains conscious for a few moments -- in some cases a few minutes -- after blood flow has been cut off," Paulhus testified.

Signs of santeria were present with the bodies: little statues, cigars, candles, mousetraps, pennies, fruit, coffee, herbs and ribbons, Paulhus said.

But Paulhus conceded, "There's no way to determine the origin of a beheaded chicken."