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Twenty-four hours of terror: a tale of deportation from the USA By ROBERT HAYSLIP This is the story of one young girl's apprehension by the U.S. Immigration Service as she entered Miami. She had lived in the United States for ten years with a student visa and once expired, she renewed her visa as a tourist, planning to return to her native Honduras and her family. Without her knowledge, she had been reported as an illegal to INS by an American woman who harbored a grudge against her. With no further proof or investigation, INS put her 'on the list' to be stopped and questioned. She was stopped, questioned for hours, denied communication with her family and denied any legal rights by the INS. Not only was she lied to, but her family was told flatly that she and had not come through Immigration. "She probably changed her plans," they were told, "and you'll hear from her when you get home." A U.S. attorney who specializes in immigration law said this is a calculated ploy regularly employed by the INS to prevent family intervention. "Frankly, when the family gets involved and hires an attorney, it makes for a lot of extra paper work for us (the INS)," she was told at one point in her interrogation. Her story is one of flawed justice, flagrant violation of rights and out and out misrepresentations. How many Central Americans will have to face such treatment and abuse as the U.S. tightens it belt in its current about face on immigration? How many thousands who have sought an economic toehold in the United States in an effort to support families left behind will now face possible deportation? Her story is best told in her own words... It was not easy for this young girl to express herself initially. She had never been in trouble before and even in high school had only faced school authorities for minor rules infractions. She started her story in a visibly nervous monotone, without a breath or a pause, as though she wanted to blurt it out in a single long tirade.
NO PROBLEMS UNTIL... "I think I can face my memories now. It's about a year ago that I was deported from the USA. Just saying the word 'deported' makes me shudder and rekindles the pain and the agony of those 24 hours. I was living in the U.S. for over ten years on a student visa, sent there as a child, not knowing where I was going or what my life would be. I adapted quickly and went through middle and high school and a professional school that would give me a career and a future. "I had been through the immigration process so many times past that it seemed automatic. Most times I was waved through with a question or two. Never a problem and no reason to expect one now! It was then my nightmare started. "Casually, I handed my passport to the immigration officer. He punched at his computer, ready to hand it back. But then, he stopped, looking up from his computer screen briefly. He asked me for my return plane ticket and I explained that my uncle would buy it for my return. He motioned to another official nearby, who asked me to step out of the line and follow him. I was puzzled and wondered if my visa was okay. It was then I remembered that I had not renewed my student visa and only had a tourist visa. Was that why I had been stopped? He looked at me blankly, offering no explanation. "Without a word, he walked me to a small office off the main corridor. I was vaguely aware of countless people staring at me. I walked into this office, a large room in size and devoid of all but a bare counter with chairs lining the walls. Out of sight of the crowds, his manner changed abruptly and he harshly said, 'Sit down!' I still did not comprehend, but now I was growing increasingly nervous. What was wrong? She stopped in mid-conversation, caught in her thoughts, her memories of that event becoming more vivid, more real as she continued. She had been offered no explanation for stopping her. The first official had said she had to have a return ticket, but she knew from other times that this was not so. She thought surely, that a call to her uncle could verify this. "My aunt had gotten me a tourist visa since carelessly, I hadn't renewed my student visa. My name was probably in the computer to stop and question, I thought. My mind raced endlessly, trying to understand what was happening. He kept paging my passport back and forth. Then he took me into this room, an office of a sort, I guess. Lots of people like myself who had been detained, even business men were being questioned about their visit."
GUILT ASSUMED The INS do their job efficiently; without explanation and with the assumption that everyone is guilty or has something to hide. This is intentional just as the absence of conversation and the severity of manner is meant to instill fear, especially to a young girl unfamiliar with bureaucratic ways. They take this advantage and exploit it in many ways, allowing only minimum conversation and answering few, if any, questions. "He told me to empty my purse on the counter adding 'Take everything out of your wallet.' Then he saw my charge card, my driver's license and my auto insurance card. Worse yet, I had an expired identity card that I had completely forgotten. I had used it in the past as an ID to get into clubs where you had to be 21. He said, 'That's a felony carrying that card.' I tried to tell him why I had it but he didn't seem interested. I wanted to tell him that I had been a student in the U.S., but I was afraid that he wouldn't believe me." Her interrogation continued, now in a police-like way. "Then, abruptly, he searched me. He patted me down all over, even touching my breasts. Thank God I was wearing jeans! He didn't even ask me, he just started doing it. I was so afraid that I pulled back and said, 'Don't I have the right to have a woman doing this?' He said, 'You don't have any rights here.' I was very, very nervous by then, not knowing what would become of me. I wanted to cry but I was afraid to give in to tears, thinking I had to stay calm. I wondered whether my family would be able to help me when I didn't show up. After what seemed an eternity, she was confronted by another INS officer, who told her tersely that she had two choices: "Voluntary deportation on the next available flight to Honduras" or she could request a hearing. If she chose the latter, she would be held in the Krome Detention Center for anywhere from five to 30 days. Adding to this scare tactic, he said she would most certainly be found guilty of a crime and would end up deported anyway. 'You'll only make a lot of unnecessary paperwork for us so you had better take voluntary deportation.'
NOT ADVISED OF RIGHTS The threat was clear to this already frightened girl. This was the extent of anything that might be called counseling. According to a U.S. attorney who specializes in such cases, she should have been advised that she had the right to an attorney and a prompt hearing with her own counsel. She should have also had access to her family by phone. Had she been given her rights, she might have been released to them while awaiting an appearance before a judge. In her fear, she agreed to the voluntary deportation. She was promptly led off to a holding cell -- another success for the INS. "This American guy took me to a little cell right there in the airport. It was small, maybe eight feet wide and ten feet long. There was a stainless steel toilet in the corner, all open and without a seat. There wasn't even any toilet paper. The room was bare with only a concrete bench on one wall. I was in jail! I again asked if I had the right to make a phone call. He said, 'You haven't any rights. What you did is a crime.' He didn't want to answer any more questions, he just kind of pushed me into the cell. It was already crowded; two ladies from Haiti and another from Ecuador. I sat on the floor in a corner. I didn't want to cry. By this time, I was there almost four hours and I was scared." Confused and frightened beyond belief, she sought refuge huddled on the floor in a corner of the cell, afraid to talk to the other occupants. Totally devoid of any privacy and already crowded, this cell would soon contain even more women -- a total of seven in a holding cell meant for one! Some talked nervously, blurting out their stories, some cried continuously and others sought refuge in sleep-like stupor. About six hours into her apprehension -- she was never told she was arrested, only detained -- the women were led into a cafeteria and fed bologna sandwiches, a soft drink and "salty" chicken soup. They were photographed and fingerprinted for a second time. More indeterminable waiting and then, just around 2 a.m., they were handcuffed two-by-two and led off for the ride to Krome Detention Center. The bus ride to Krome was mercifully short. She stared blankly through the barred windows of the bus at the dark and deserted streets for the entire time. Once in Krome, these detainees were put through a ritual processing, stripped of their street clothes and put in prison suits. Once more, they were forced to stand for photographs and fingerprints. Finally, after 11 hours, they were led to an already crowded dormitory cell and sleep! "They gave me an orange shirt and pants to wear. You can only keep your underwear and bra. I had to put all my belongings in a duffle. I couldn't even keep my watch. No valuables, they said. The cop lady was nice to me. She gave me a denim jacket to wear when she saw I was so cold. We were put in this big cell, where there were lots of women asleep in rows of double decker beds. I got a towel, a pillow and a blanket. I have to say the people in Krome were nice, not like the ones at the Miami airport."
MORE WAITING In the morning, she was hustled into out-processing for the trip back to Miami International. Still more endless waiting and finally, dressed again in their civilian clothes, those who had chosen 'voluntary deportation' were put on the bus -- this time unshackled -- for the ride back to INS at the airport. "We were all awakened at 5:30. They took us to a cafeteria, but all I had was coffee. I couldn't eat. They took us back to that office and we waited and waited. Once again, more fingerprints and pictures before letting us get dressed and then, we were put us on the bus -- it had bars on the window, like the one we came in -- and taken back to that cell at the airport." She would return on an American Airlines flight, accompanied by another young Hondureņa who had also accepted the INS's generous offer of 'voluntary deportation.' They were handed over to the flight attendant and taken to the rear of the plane. It was only then that she allowed herself to cry. She landed in San Pedro Sula and cleared through the Honduran immigration with a barrage of questions. Her ordeal was over, but her life would be changed forever and her future access to the United States would be indeterminably denied, perhaps forever. All this because an American sought vengeance and the INS would act on an unproven allegation. She was given no opportunity to defend herself. In fact, she would only learn of this woman's act later through the U.S. immigration attorney. Her ordeal would haunt her indefinitely; even a trip to the airport would stir these painful memories forever. This is one young woman's story; sadly, a story to be told and retold often as the U.S. increases pressures to deport undocumented immigrants. The Hispanic communities in South Florida are more fearful than ever of the 'man' as stories of traffic violations or even domestic disputes become reason to deport individuals. Airline passengers are subject to more scrutiny, travel visas harder to obtain. Where and when will it end? What has happened to the words of Emma Lazarus, inscribed on the Statue of Liberty a century ago, now ironically hollow in their meaning: "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breath free....." |
All original articles and photographs published in Honduras This Week are protected by international copyright law. Reproduction, in whole or in part without prior written permission, is strictly prohibited.Published online by Marrder Omnimedia |
