You have been in the US for twenty two years. You came, only eighteen, without a visa or any other kind of permission and stayed, working in construction, dishwashing, roofing, farm work, picking apples, and processing fish – in short, any job that you could find. You could get these jobs because the employers could find no one else to do them. Most of the time you got paid, but sometimes you didn’t. You always had work, and after a few years, you went back to Mexico, married your childhood sweetheart, and brought her back with you. You entered the US again without a visa, as did your wife.
You could not stay in your hometown in Mexico. It was a town of the old, of widows and of families living on the money their men sent back from the US. The old people remembered when every family had some land to till and a few cattle to raise, but now the farmers couldn’t get their produce to market. Drug cartels controlled the entire countryside where you were born.
In a few more years, your father got very sick, and you took the long journey to your home town in Mexico. He died before you arrived, but you were in time for his funeral. You had to go back to the U.S.; your wife and two children depended on you. This time, Immigration caught you at the border and deported you. You came back the next day, coming over the border at another, more dangerous crossing, and made your way home to Seattle, because now it was home to you.
You didn’t know that you now had a potential felony charge against you: illegal entry after deportation. Fifteen years go by.
Now your elderly mother is ill, and you are determined to see her before she dies. You fly home, and are able to say goodbye. You come back to the US, crossing at night through the desert after walking for three days, and you don’t get caught. You go home to Seattle, and you work, raise your children, and volunteer to help coach your daughter’s soccer team. Your children make you proud, and your wife talks of immigration reform, that someday, it can’t be long now, President Obama will reform the laws so that you both can get your legal residence.
You are very tired of being undocumented in the US. You have never been able to buy a house or open a bank account because you don’t have a social security number. You worry about what will happen to your children if you aren’t here. There are four of them now, and the youngest is only seven. Your employer, the one who never asked you for your papers in the ten years you’ve been working for him, mentions that he’s going to need to see your work permit. You hear about other undocumented immigrants being picked up by Immigration and deported, in higher numbers than in President Bush’s administration.
You decide to make an appointment to see an immigration attorney to see if there is a way to get your papers. You go to the appointment with your wife and sixteen year old son. Your son wants to go because he is determined to help you. He thinks that because he is a US citizen, he may be able to get your residence for you. The attorney asks about your immigration history, and you tell her. She asks if you are afraid of returning to your home town, if you fear that someone will try to kill or imprison you. No, you say. She asks if you have been the victim of a crime. If you have been the victim of a serious crime in the US and reported the crime to the police, you might be eligible to request a visa to stay legally in the US, she says. No, you say, but your son says, but Dad, what about when you were beaten by the Seattle police?
So you tell the attorney: You got in your car to drive your child to a doctor’s appointment. You drove a couple of blocks. You didn’t know that the police had cordoned off several streets in order to find a fugitive. A policeman stopped you, dragged you out of the car, and beat you with his pistol in front of your screaming five year old. He told you to go ahead, complain to the police chief, see if he cared. So you did complain. You went to the police station near your house, and asked for the captain. You said you had a complaint about police conduct.
After you waited a while, you were shown into the captain’s office. The captain said, yes, this is a serious allegation. I’ll send an investigator to your house to take your statement. Here’s my card, the captain said, so you can call me. But the investigator didn’t come. A week later, you called again, and then you called the third and last time a month later. But the captain didn’t return your calls. You say that you don’t want to try again, and besides, it’s been more than two years since it happened.
The attorney says you have no options because of your deportation, and then your re-entry to the US without documents. This is a federal felony, she says. If you are picked up by Immigration, you will be deported immediately, without any opportunity to see an immigration judge. You may be prosecuted for the illegal re-entry, too, and face up to five years of federal prison time. Your son, the one who was sure he could help you, begins to cry.
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