Purgatory

I was going to write yesterday, but the massive tension headache made that impossible.  I felt as though my brain had been divided and the halves were at war with one another.  The Prosecutor received notice of our defenses and expressed an interest in settling outside of court in order to avoid trial. The offers were all bleak.  They served as stark reminders that the Prosecutor believes my husband to be guilty of all charges.  The only reduction we saw was in regards to the sentence, all of the deals were for felony-level convictions.  We countered with reduction of the severity of the crime, but the prosecutor is unwilling to consider a lesser conviction level. 

He wants Alberto to plead guilty and be handed the maximum sentence with a condition that he will not serve more than 1 year and have 5 years of probation.  I would say 1 year instead of 7 years would be a good deal, but if we accept then our immigration case loses most of its strength.  Lance even said that although an approved waiver is still possible, the chance of that happening with a felony conviction is less than 30%.  My opinion is that I am scared as hell.  The best Brian can tell us is a jury trial is always 50-50 and that if Alberto is convicted he will likely suffer the same fate as his brother.  Dios mío ¿que hagamos ahora?

Saturday began much earlier than I would have liked, but we needed to talk face to face about what we were going to do.  So I left Ashley at home sleeping since my parents agreed to watch her until I got home and went to jail.  I spent 45 minutes in the waiting area which isn’t bad at all considering I arrived an hour before visiting time was to begin.  I tried to enjoy my quiet time with a book, but I couldn’t really get into it since I had so many thoughts running through my head.  What do I tell Alberto when he asks for my opinion?  It was easier when he was trying to decide if he was going to turn himself in at the border; we would have had no further recourse without taking that chance.  We are down to the line and we have to make a decision; are we going to accept a deal, or take our chances at trial?  The idea of the fate of our family resting in the hands of 12 jurors is frightening!  They could be biased and hate Mexicans, or they could not care and just go with the people that want to see another Mexican get what he deserves.  They aren’t going to be told about the legal hoops we jumped through to try to get him back legally to face the charges, they aren’t going to be told he was exiled from his family for 3 years before someone suggested he turn himself in to get extradited.  They will be there to hear about a criminal matter, not an immigration situation that dictated our actions.

As I sat in that horrid visitor’s box with its tiny stool anchored to the floor, phone attached to the cement block wall, and bullet proof glass window I thought why did this have to happen to us?  What did we do to deserve such punishment?  Alberto sat on his side of the glass and so began the hardest conversation of my life.  I couldn’t stop the tears from escaping as discussed our options. 1) Take the deal, go to jail, waiver denied, get deported, and move to Mexico and join the community of ExPats.  2) Take the deal, go to jail, waiver approved, and live happily ever after.  3) Go to trial, declared guilty, go to jail, waiver denied, get deported, and move to Mexico and join the community of ExPats.  4) Go to trial, declared innocent, waiver approved, and live happily ever after. How do you make that decision?  I need a sign, something that helps us choose the right path.  Something subtle will never work; I need something that says in bright bold letters, “DEZA YOU MORON, DO THIS!”  I don’t want to make this decision!  I don’t want to opine something and have it go horribly wrong!  I don’t want everything I’ve fought for to lay ruined at my feet; the immigration attorney’s fee now rendered a donation.  I still owe Brian the rest of his fee which has been determined to be $1,800 based on what I’ve paid since June and the guesstimate of $750 paid before they lost our accounting records.

Please God let something turn out right for us.  I just need a sign, a hint, a clue telling me which path to choose.

“I must not fear.  Fear is the mind-killer.  Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.  I will face my fear…  And when it is gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.  Where the fear is gone there will be nothing.  Only I will remain.”

Frank Herbert

Ciao

Interesting Spanish Words/Phrases:

Dios mío ¿qué hagamos ahora?            My God, what do we do now?