I’ve been stateside nearly seven months now after three years in Mexico (two coordinating the Casa de la Paz in Chiapas). And though the initial tidal waves of rage and despair have quieted somewhat, I can’t say that I’m any closer to embracing my new lifestyle. I’ve moved to the desert, Florence, Arizona, to work for an organization that defends the legal and human rights of detained immigrants. It was a pretty logical transition after my time experiencing first hand the context and motivations for which Mexicans, Guatemalans, Hondurans, El Salvadorans and Nicaraguans are migrating. There’s no food, there’s no options, I get it, I’ve seen it, I’ve felt it; the desperation that drives millions to risk their lives and families, risk everything to look for work on the other side. But even witnessing the extreme poverty of rural Chiapas, the hopelessness and decay of urban Mexico, the disintegrating social fabric thanks to global economic policies, militarization, “development,” could not prepare me for the inherent injustice and pain I see everyday in the Department of Homeland Security Detention Center.
I used to live across the street from a death row maximum security prison. Every morning I woke up to the yard megaphone, calling inmates in to chow. I then drive 3 miles, past 7 other AZ state prisons and 2 strip malls. By 7:30 am I’m in Department of Homeland Security Immigration Court (attached to the DHS detention facility) standing in front of 5-45 detained immigrants explaining their legal options for their first court. The majority choose deportation rather than months in detention fighting their cases. The people who choose “more time,” and who can’t afford lawyers (people are not provided with legal counsel for immigration proceedings, so 90% represent themselves) are the people we try to assist, investigating their cases, preparing them, contacting their families.
I suppose on some level I always knew the day was coming; it was inevitable that at some point I would run into a familiar face in that morning Know Your Rights Presentation.
I didn’t know Juan personally, but I know his story well. And after a month of intense legal training, “baptism by fire” at the detention centers, culture shock; after more or less getting my footing; hearing Juan’s story was like getting hit by a bucket of cold water.
There was a hurricane, he says, and my heart sinks.
You are from Guatemala, I say, glancing at the court list. I too was in that hurricane.
We lost everything, the house was washed away, the coffee plants... I only have the clothes I arrived in, I borrowed the money for the coyote. I can’t go back. There is nothing left.
I know, I say. I saw your house, I think. I saw the water that wouldn’t cease, I saw the mountains consume entire populations, I saw the landslides, the devastation. And I know, that for Juan, there was no other option other than perilous journey north. His feet are bandaged and he limps due burns and blisters from crossing the desert.
Hurricane Stan struck Chiapas and Guatemala a year and a half ago and the devastation to the poorest of the poor is still tangible today.
With Juan I switch into lawyer mode: do you have crimes? other times you’ve crossed? family? Family is key, with a family member or even a friend, bond is possible. A bond buys time to work off coyote debt, talk to family, consider options, hire a lawyer, get a taste of the US before facing deportation, or disappearing. Usually my singular goal is to get people out of jail as soon as possible.
No, no, no, says Juan.
I can’t help you, I say, you have no relief. And it breaks my heart. And it happens at least 3 times a day: hearing peoples stories and having to say that legally, they are doomed. That though I understand, I see, I feel, I carry burned into the backs of my eyelids, the reasons that they have migrated, that they will be deported.
The detainees who have no legal remedies, no possible cases they could fight to receive or retain their visas, we call No Relief. We mark their files with a big N/R for quick reference. And if they have no crimes or perhaps some legal family members in the US, then it falls to me to see if I can help them get a bond before they get deported. For Mexicans who haven’t been in the US long, it makes the most monetary sense to get deported, just across the border in Nogales, and try to cross again. For Central Americans the cost/benefit analysis is trickier: what is cheaper the bond or the coyote? am I willing to make that horrible journey again? am I willing to sit in detention while the flight to Nicaragua fills up? I say repeatedly: You Must attend your court dates on the outside even if it means taking a deport, and I know all some people need is a couple months to work off debts, talk to family, sell their cars, look for legal options, prepare. And I know some people “abscond.” I contemplate what portion of Department of Homeland Security budget is propped up by the bail money of poor immigrants who fail to appear.
I feel especially drawn to the No Relief folks for a number of reasons. Their cases are less complicated. New to immigration law, I’m just beginning to grasp the details of the unadjusted refugees, 212(c) cancellations, aggravated felon legal permanent residents, etc. But it’s also because they are the people I recognize. They have crossed for the first time, paid enormous fees to coyotes, traversed all of Mexico, struggled through the Arizona desert, faced unspeakable dangers, with one singular motivation; to work in the US to feed their families. There is also no relief when they return to El Salvador, Guatemala, Nicaragua, Mexico, Honduras.
Even though I balk at the numbers of people I see pushed through the courts or mandatorily detained, the vast majority of detained immigrants will never even see an Immigration Judge. The number of people detained by Immigration and Customs Enforcement, ICE, is staggering and a surely only a small portion of the numbers of people actually crossing. The Tucson Sector of the Border Patrol (covering most of Arizona), in 2005 reported 1,200 apprehensions every day (TRAC immigration report, 2006). Other reports state 3,000-4,000 daily for this region. 90% of those apprehended are given “voluntary departure,” meaning they sign their own deportations and are immediately returned instead of being detained. Congressional Research Service in 2005 stated that processing and deporting Mexicans took 10-15 minutes. Another large portion of those apprehended (71,875 in FY 2005), are dumped into “expedited removal” category. Expedited removal can be applied to people who are encountered within 100 miles of the border and who cannot establish that they have been continuously present in the US for 14 days or longer. Another large portion of people have a previous deportation or standing order of removal and those orders are simply “reinstated” or they are “administratively removed” without ever going into proceedings.
This means low level immigration officers are deciding if an individual is removable and there is no accountability or review process for those orders. An apprehended person has no chance to speak with family, friends or legal counsel, no chance to gather documents, and it is their burden to prove to an officer that they have been in the US for more than 14 days. The officer’s decision to place a person in expedited removal can result in them losing substantive rights. People who have been in the US for 10 years, have an asylum claim or are unaccompanied minors have potential cases to stay in the US legally. But none of that is considered and is rendered moot by an order of deportation. It is virtually impossible to reopen those previous deportation orders despite the fact that peoples' rights are often flagrantly violated. People have no access to legal assistance to know the future consequences of their signing voluntary departures. And at times people are pressured and harassed into taking deports. Everyday, someone tells me, yes, I was made to sign something, I don’t know what it was. In my short time here I have met 2 US citizens who Border Patrol harassed and intimidated into signing voluntary departures because despite their legal US birth certificates and identification, they did not speak English. These individuals now face the daunting task of untangling their names and fingerprints from past deportation orders while in detention even though they are US citizens.
Past deportation orders can simply be reinstated. Another large group of folks will never see a judge because they will be administratively removed once they can be positively identified with previous deportation order. This would seem to be time and resource saving method were it not for all the systemic flaws and injustices that resulted in those orders in the first place. (not receiving court notices, no legal counsel, bureaucratic errors in transferring court venues, lack of translation, improper procedures) The only way to get out of the automatic voluntary departure, expedited removal or reinstatement track, is to express a credible fear of returning to your country, in which case you will see a judge to fight an asylum claim.
But it’s hard for me to talk about justice and injustice within the realm of immigration detention, court and deportation, because the fundamental policies and legal systems on which they rest seem flawed to me. How can we militarize a border of however many thousands of miles with a country we are deeply economically and culturally linked to? How can we round up the parents, children, cousins, grandparents of honest, hardworking folks? If detention bed space is so scarce and so expensive why are bonds so high and so reluctantly given? Why have people been detained for years when their only crime is being in the wrong country?
I have seen some horrible things; watching peoples sanity disintegrate after a while being detained, watching people tremble when despite their fear of being killed in their countries, they are not granted asylum and will be deported, the hardworking father picked up in an arbitrary ICE raid of his neighborhood, the man who after a long court battle to win custody of his 2 year old daughter from her abusive mother, gets searched at a Greyhound station and will be deported. Daily people’s frustration and confusion bubbles to the surface. They ask me, why, if I served my time, am I still in jail? Why are they keeping me prisoner, I just wanted to work? How can they tear me away from my family? What can I do, there is no hope in my country? And I say, I shrug, I sigh, the law wasn’t written for people. It is totally unfair. I’m sorry. Let’s do whatever we can to get you out of here. Some days I’m able to not let it get to me. Some days I go home crying. The jailhouse rumor-mill whispers of Amnesty. The word hangs on people’s lips and in their hearts. They say to me, if I fight my case for one more month then maybe there will be Amnesty. They told me Amnesty is coming. I answer honestly, but gently, it is a false hope that neither they nor I are willing to let go of.
I like getting folks out of jail. One of the greatest parts of my job is getting phone calls from people I’ve helped bond out who are now with their families on the outside. They are joyful and sad conversations because they inevitably ask- well, what now? And what can I say? You have no relief. You were born in the wrong country at the wrong time. There is no law that can help you, no visa that will allow you just to work to provide for your family as you came to do. Even if you have hope to process a family petition it will be years of costly bureaucracy and you could get detained again in the meantime. There is no freedom even outside the barbed wire. But compared to the hell of detention it must feel pretty good. And I try to focus on that.
For more info:
-TRAC Immigration Report, 2006
-CRS Report for Congress, Immigration Policy on Expedited Removal of Aliens, 1/18/06
-Deportation 101
“Behind Every Abuse is a Community” Border Network for Human Rights, 6/06,
-Border Action
-No More Deaths
~melissa mundt~
Comments
Post new comment