BY PAUL BRINKLEY-ROGERS, ELAINE DE VALLE AND EUNICE PONCE

 One year after federal agents stormed into a small home in Little Havana to take Elián González, the image of the fearful child and the cop
 with the gun continues to sear the memory of Cuban Americans in Miami.

 Pain and anger continue. Feelings of betrayal and resentment linger.

 Some have tried to find a positive in the Elián affair.

 But healing has not been easy.

 The one year anniversary -- marked in Miami this weekend by a series of gatherings -- will be emotionally bruising, Cuban Americans say.

 Carlos Saladrigas, one of several community leaders who tried to negotiate an end to the impasse with federal authorities the morning of
 the raid, says reliving that day ``will not be easy for me.

 ``I am still very disappointed by the actions of the government and the attorney general,'' he said. ``I still have the feeling we were used as
 a decoy. It was not ethical and if we had known that armed intervention was planned we could have made the decision to not be there.''

 Attorney Pedro Freyre, who tried to help reach an understanding, says he too feels used.

 ``The rug was pulled out,'' he said. ``It took me several weeks to recover. It was horribly traumatic.''

 Freyre, who backed the idea that Elián's Miami relatives should have their day in family court, said he was especially disturbed by the
 passions ``that tore this city I love apart. I never felt so self-conscious about being a Cuban American.''

 Since then, however, he has expanded his circle of friends. ``One of the few good things to come out of this is that caring people have
 come together'' to start healing, he said. But he cautioned ``The peace is fragile . . . These wounds run deep. We will live it all over again if
 there's another lost child.''

 His wife, Elena Freyre, was on the opposite side during the months of controversy. She said Elián belonged with his dad and believes
 former Attorney General Janet Reno had no choice but to order the raid. Splits within families were common, she said.

 ``I have tried very hard to put it all behind me,'' she said. ``It's probably harder for those who fought to keep the child here. For our
 community this anniversary is going to be rough.''

 Others mourn the fact that Elián is in Cuba. They are convinced that Fidel Castro is using Elián.

 Armando Gutierrez -- who handled publicity for Elián's Miami relatives -- complains that ``Elián is being used as a propaganda tool by the
 government of Cuba. . . . It makes it very hard for us who were doubled-crossed by the U.S. government.''

 Gutierrez said vigils at the Little Havana house will continue through the years. ``We'll do it again if necessary if it happens again,'' he said.
 ``Maybe one day Elián will be here again, and we will be here to help him.''

 Ninoska Pérez Castellón of the Cuban American National Foundation said she is still bothered by the fact that ``one year ago we had to
 hear from so many bigots and racists who used the incident to paint a bad image of our community.''

 But like Gutierrez, she said even more bothersome have been the news reports out of Cuba that show Elián with Castro.

 Marta Flores, who hosts a nightly talk-radio show, La Noche y Usted, says Elián played a role that should not be overlooked.

 ``He reunited many people who before were segregated,'' she said. ``Every night you would see different groups working together in front of that house. That has left a seed
 planted. One year later, we still remember Elián as a boy who came with a very special mission.''

 She said losing Elián was a different disaster for Cuban Americans than the failed Bay of Pigs invasion.

 ``Bay of Pigs was the only serious opportunity the exile community had to recover its freedom, and we know what happened with that,'' she said. ``What everybody saw in
 Elián was an act of violence by the large and powerful against the small and helpless.''

 Those who were at the house during the raid, like community leader Ramón Saúl Sánchez, say they continue to feel traumatized.

 Sometimes when he meditates, Sánchez said, he thinks about that moment, and the boy.

 ``I try to focus on the tragedy of my country but I can't help wondering how is he. What is he feeling? Is he where he wanted to be?''

 Laritza Ulloa, a 33-year-old nurse who spent many hours waving signs in front of the González house, said she was at home in Hialeah when her sister, Mérida, called
 her. It was still early in the morning, before sunrise.

 ``She was crying, `He's gone, he's gone,' '' she said. ``At that moment a feeling of great sorrow came over me and I lay in the dark, my whole body shaking, wanting
 somebody to hold me and comfort me. . . . I remember how terrible I felt every time I hear the boy's name.''

 The Rev. Manuel Salabarría, an evangelist who spent many hours at the house counseling the González family, said his memories of the raid ``are still fresh. I still see the
 authorities erupting into the home during holy week when I expected there would be a peaceful resolution.''

 Salabarría, an organizer of a mid-afternoon vigil in front of the home on Saturday, said he got a phone call informing him about the raid. ``I was paralyzed, completely
 shocked, that something like that -- an invasion -- could happen in the U.S.,'' he said. ``I still feel that way.''

 But he said he decided not to let those memories intrude on his spiritual well-being. ``Today, I pray for the agents who betrayed us at that moment, to help them deal with
 it,'' he said.

 ``I am not forgiving them,'' Salabarría said. ``I am not allowing hate to disturb my peace. . . . Elián has been a blessing and a miracle of the Lord.''

                                    © 2001