Numb

The human mind can only handle so much before a breakdown occurs.  Whenever something devastating happens, my mind shuts off the outside world to wrap itself in a cocoon of misery.  I experience some of the classic symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder; feeling emotionally numb, trouble concentrating, avoiding activities I once enjoyed, and difficulty maintaining relationships.  I suppose that what I was experiencing wasn’t severe enough to be called PTSD, so I was diagnosed with Major Depression, Dysthymia, and GeneralizedAnxiety Disorder.  My first experience was after Alberto’s voluntary departure in October of 2008, and my second round started on Wednesday, July 18th.

I was destroyed, reduced to a pile of fragmented shards by the email informing me of the denial from USICS.  Joelle sent me home, though she wanted to call someone to come get me instead.  She only saw the tattered facade left behind by emotions run amok; she couldn’t see the core of steel, the resolve that was keeping me upright when all I wanted to do was crumble into pieces on the floor.  I left because it was easier to do so, and because I needed Ashley.

I bite my thumb at you, sir

Brian pisses me off.  I hardly have words to describe the anger the man is capable of generating in me.  It would have been an ugly thing if I had run into him today after the newest outrage.  I swear that if I had the means, I would fire this clown in a heartbeat.

 

It all started last week when the hearing regarding our motion to contest restitution was rescheduled AGAIN, because the Writ was not served in enough time.  I gather the counties only require a few days’ notice to transfer a detainee, whereas immigration needs a minimum of 2 weeks to process such a request.  Brian forwarded me a series of email between himself, the prosecutor, and the clerk of court as they went back and forth setting a new date.  Brian requested June 7th at 2:45 pm, which was fine with the prosecutor, however the Judge was in trial at that time so the clerk offered several different times on the same day.  Maybe I’ll just let you read parts of the email change so you can see why they irritate me so.  It starts from the most recent and ends with the forwarded email chain.

At The Crossroads

Oh joy!  Monday has never been my favorite day of the week, but I appreciate it even less when I have to get out of bed earlier than usual.  Ashley is not a pleasant person in the morning much like her magnificent mother, but at least I don’t take a swing at people for waking me up.  We had our 9th immigration hearing this morning which explains the extraordinary mood that descended on me this am.  I suppose there are worse things I could have had to do that would force me out of bed at the butt crack of dawn, but that way of thinking is too rational for me right now.  Anyway, after the obligatory tears and punches were thrown by my sweet daughter I was able to get her ready for school in record time.  There still was a slight argument over whether or not children are able to wear sandals with socks, the answer is a resounding no by the way, and in the end I had to practically sit on Ashley to get her shoes on.  I think the reason she hates shoes so much is they are almost too small for her.  I hope to be able to buy her new shoes on Friday when I get paid again, but whether that is possible or not remains to be seen.  Ashley has been eating everything on her plate and then some lately which is a sure sign of an approaching growth spurt.  I’m not looking forward to that because that means I need to go out and buy her more clothes that I can’t afford.  Thank God it’s garage sale season!

I pulled into the parking lot of the non-descript government building that houses the 8th circle of hell almost feeling optimistic.  It’s strange that after so many hearings I can feel something besides resentment and anger during my journey.  Maybe it is the anticipation at being able to see my best friend face to face after so many days without the privilege that improves my mood, although I truly believe it shouldn’t be a privilege to look my husband in the eye when I’m talking with him.  Once again the miniscule waiting room is packed with the family of the detained so I move into the visiting room to sit on the little stools available in there.  There is only one attorney in the room when I arrive so the chances are good we’ll get in sooner rather than later.  Shortly after Graciela arrives we got kicked out of the visiting room so we went to stand in the hallway, by this time it’s 9 am.  In the hallway we see another attorney from Lance’s office and we learn that Lance himself will also be here shortly for a hearing.  Graciela told me that Lance had a new client he was here to represent today and that he didn’t want to make her give them the bad news.  Apparently the young man had been very busy during his adult life which resulted in 50 or so incidents on his criminal record.

Weasel War Dance

Good Lord did I really just attend the eighth Immigration Hearing?  I know we’re coming to the end of this nightmare, but sometimes it’s hard for me to comprehend what we’re going through and what has been lost.  Alberto has been detained by USICE for 149 days as of today, but he’s been in jail for a grand total of 331 days.  That means in just over a month he will have been in jail for a year.  Ashley has had her father nearby for almost an entire year.  Maybe in a way this is yet another blessing in disguise since it has given Ashley a chance to get to know her father.  God willing Alberto will be able to come home before too much longer.

I arrived before Graciela as usual and waited for her in the ‘room of many torments’ found within the bowels of USICE hell.  This was yet another visit where I passed through security without much commentary on behalf of the guards, although I noticed the return of their self-important smirks.  I swear they only asked me for my appointment letter because there was someone who came in the door right behind me.  I stated that I was here, yet again, for my husband’s immigration hearing and passed through the metal detector without issue.  I mumbled on the way out that I would be seeing them next month.  I attribute my defeatist attitude to sleep deprivation; luckily these moods rarely last for very long.  Graciela was the last attorney to arrive, so I anticipated that we would not get in until sometime after 10.  This is why I always bring a book.

Three Ring Circus

I am getting more than a little tired of the unscrupulous tactics employed by our government.  Why can’t they just leave us alone?  Graciela forwarded me a copy of the DHS Opposition to Motion to Terminate and I read it, knowing it would be ugly.  Boris Badenov stated in his “FACTS” section that Alberto came to the attention of the USICE after he assaulted someone with a rock then he listed each and every injury suffered by the victim.  It is ridiculous how they seem bound and determined to paint Alberto in the worst light.  They must be trying to exploit the human brain by repeating something enough times so that someone will believe it’s true.  In an attempt to cover his own posterior, Boris then filed an I-261 (Additional Charges of Inadmissibility / Deportability) with his Opposition.  What charge could he possibly add to this farce?  Well, interestingly enough the additional charge against Alberto is INA § 212(a)(7)(A)(i)(I):

Any immigrant who, at the time of application for admission is not in possession of a valid unexpired immigrant visa, reentry permit, border crossing identification card, or other valid entry document required by the Immigration and Nationality Act, and a valid unexpired passport, or other suitable travel document, or document of identity and nationality if such document is required under the INS regulations.

A waiver is available under INA §212(k) where the Attorney General is satisfied that the exclusion was not known to, and could not have been ascertained by the exercise of reasonable diligence by, the immigrant before the time of departure of the vessel or aircraft from the last port outside the United States and outside foreign contiguous territory or, in the case of an immigrant coming from foreign contiguous territory, before the time of the immigrant's application for admission.

 What the hell immigration?  You paroled him into the United States for Prosecution; of course he’s not going to have a visa or other proof of lawful entry!  He was arrested at the border because of the active warrant, and the only reason he was “seeking admission” was because you stated if he said as much he could adjust status here!  Now someone please tell me how the actions of the DHS in recent months have resembled anything slightly ethical?  Sounds like a rampant lack of morals to me, not that my opinion seems to matter.  In the future Boris and his ilk will all have to answer to a higher power, I wonder how they will justify these abuses of power over their fellow man?

My kingdom for a shrubbery

I received an email from Molly last Friday stating that the Waiver was on its way to Immigration in a very large FedEx box.  Did she really say it was in a very large FedEx box?  I can only imagine how much they added to the information and documents I provided to warrant the use of a very large FedEx box.  I asked her to email me a copy of the waiver rather than print it, and she responded the PDF was well over 25 MB in size – larger that her outbound email maximum.  I’ll have to make time to get down to their office and have her copy it onto my flash drive then.  I’m sure it will be interesting reading.

I am getting more than a little tired of going to these bogus immigration hearings.  It always seems to me like I am immersed in a Monty Python movie and it’s only a matter of time until someone says ‘ne’. 

I entered the dismal lair of immigration hell, understanding that nothing would take place today.  The minions of evil chortled gleefully when they searched my purse and found a digital camera that had been there since the day before.  The ordered me to return the ‘contraband’ to my vehicle, feeling triumphant in inconveniencing someone.  When I returned from the brief trip to my vehicle, they demanded the reason for my visit again.  I gritted my teeth against my own hostility and replied in an almost pleasant voice that I was here for my husband’s hearing.  Pillsbury dough-boy attempted to illicit a reaction from me by pawing through my purse again.  After my purse was returned, I made a point of inspecting the contents.  I muttered loud enough to make sure one of the guards heard take stock of my belongings and state ‘good it’s all still here’.  I won’t play ball with these people, but I enjoy making sure they know I don’t trust them at all.

A Miracle

I expected Monday to be an awful day.  I expected to buy a one-way plane ticket from my best friend and experience that loss all over again.  I expected to turn in his suitcase to some smirking immigration agent.  I expected to have another bad episode triggered by what I was told was likely to happen.  There was no way on heaven or earth that we could have anticipated what was going to take place.

Alberto called me just as I was leaving Ashley’s Preschool, which was odd as he should have been in route to the USICE holding area for his court appearance by that time.  He said that the guys had come at 5 am like usual, but they told him that he didn’t have court today so he didn’t get to go.  Naturally he was a little upset, thinking that we received yet another continuance, but I told him I’d do what I could to get to the bottom of it.  I asked Alberto to call me back in 30 minutes so I could call Lance to see if he knew what was going on.  I went straight to USICE and stared down the guards blocking my entrance.  I held back my snappy retort through the sheer force of my will, but I don’t know that I would be that strong if I have to come back again.  I swear they must enjoy playing the fool since there is no good reason to spend my days in a building full of irritating and often dense immigration officials just because I want to.  The largest guard actually pawed through my purse this time; must be because of the ‘shanks’ I carry to help while away the hours.  Lance calls my circular knitting needles my ‘shanks and ligature’ even though the steel barreled pen in my purse is a more formidable weapon in my eyes.

Delay of Game

I know I didn’t write anything right after the hearing on Thursday and some people may be wondering what had happened.  It was one hell of a long day let me tell you.  I was up by 5:45 am to shower and get dressed since I was anticipating a fight of epic proportions from Ashley just to get her out of bed.  It didn’t go so bad actually so we go out of the house earlier than I expected.  The hearing was scheduled for 9 am, but Lance had asked me to get there by 8:30 am because the Pro Bono attorney would try to get her hearings done first unless I held the spot.  I was in Bloomington by 7:15 am, so I figured breakfast was in order.  I went to Denny’s and read my Kindle for a while.  I was still at the USCIS/ICE office before 8:30, but at least I wasn’t the only one there.

Lance arrived close to 9 am and the judge walked through the waiting room shortly afterwards.  The Judge grunted, “Which one of you is the pro bono attorney today?”  I watched as all the other attorneys avoided eye contact while looking through their files or checked their phones for emails.  Lance seemed bewildered and asked, “Wasn’t Amy supposed to be the Pro Bono today?”  Apparently Amy had a conflict on her calendar and wasn’t able to keep her obligation to the immigration court and now 25 people were without representation.  Lance glanced at the docket thoughtfully, and then called his wife.  He asked her when she was going to be done across the street because he needed help, and she said she would come as soon as she was finished.  Lance went to the window and asked for the paperwork on the Pro Bono cases to start reviewing who he could get done quickly without assistance since he didn’t speak much Spanish.  He rushed a few people through hearings before our hearing before the Judge.

We were brought into the courtroom the last hearing was held in a month ago, and the proceedings began.  The Judge obviously didn’t know what was going on with Alberto’s case, and the government attorney was as clueless as I’d assumed.  He was a mousey looking man, almost like Drew Carey prior to the weight loss only not as good looking.  The judge wanted clarification so the hearing was taken off the record and Lance began to explain why they couldn’t deport my husband.  He explained how Alberto was brought into the country for criminal proceedings, and how he must be allowed a reasonable amount of time to depart on his dime after the parole is terminated.  Alberto was not afforded this opportunity so the government had violated his rights.  Lance went on to explain that we still do not know what type of parole granted so we are unable to determine if Alberto is eligible for relief or if we should terminate proceedings to return him to Mexico without a final order of deportation.  The government attorney jumped in at that point, stating that we should go ahead with the termination of the proceedings and earned a sigh from Lance.  You see, the government attorney was unable to determine what kind of parole Alberto was granted to enter the US, and he was unable to locate the rulings that outlined Alberto’s rights as an immigrant.  We heard him muttering a steady stream of ‘what the hell’ as he was desperately searching for the documentation.  The solution was another continuance because the Judge refused to spend 30 minutes on a single immigration hearing, with admonition that the attorneys submit their motions prior to the hearing so that the Judge could have a decision ready.  Lance politely agreed to the continuance, which was scheduled for the 23rd of January.

Wait... What?!

Ok, so today I’m a little upset, although I believe that I am entitled this time around.  I emailed Lance yesterday to see what his thoughts were about the outcome of the hearing and this is what I get back from him:  “I will review the charging document.   The question I am trying to resolve is whether he can apply for residency here at all, regardless of whether the court or USCIS has the power to do it.”  Wait a minute, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

I guess I’m waiting, albeit impatiently at this point, to see what will happen next.  I really hate immigration policy.

Ciao

(I'll update as I get more information...)

Another continuance…

So Monday was my first dental checkup in about 4 years or more and it was not as bad as I expected.  It took much longer than I would’ve expected because it was the first time I’d been to that office so they had to do the x-rays and everything.  The worst thing for me about getting my teeth cleaned is that food is disgusting for the rest of the day.  At least I only have three small cavities which will be filled next month.  I’m hoping I can wear my ear buds because the sound of the drill is like nails on a chalkboard for me.  Who knows, I might get lucky if I ask really nicely…

I also got a phone call from one of the assistants at Lance’s office this morning.  I was amused when the woman spoke to me in Spanish, totally ignoring my English greeting.  She was talking so fast that I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, and her news was grim: the hearing was cancelled.  She admitted that is was most likely postponed, but either way I should wait for her to call me by 4:00 for more information.  To my surprise it was Lance that called me, and the first words out of his mouth were, “I don’t know what she was smoking but I NEVER said the hearing was cancelled.”  The moved the immigration hearing from 10 am to 1 pm, but everything else would be the same and he said he would see me there.

Change will commence in…

Here we are again on the precipice of change only this time I don’t know exactly what to expect and that scares me.  Alberto’s probation officer called me on Wednesday to talk to me about him.  I didn’t expect her to have so many questions and I hope I was able to create a picture of my husband clearly in her mind.  The probation officer was personable and soft-spoken and I definitely hadn’t expected that so I suppose I told her more than she expected.  I talked about our relationship and how like any normal couple we’ve had our disagreements, but we always talk it through.  I’ve never been afraid of Alberto nor do I believe him to be capable of violence.  I acknowledged that my brother-in-law Caña is a volatile, violent man and I had never signs of the same behaviors in Alberto.  We discussed his use of alcohol and I described Alberto as a social drinker who knows his limit.  She asked about his temperament, if he had any mental illnesses, would I trust him with our daughter and other questions along the same line.  Then at the end of all this, she wanted to know why Alberto left the country in 2008.  I gave her the full story, with nothing omitted, though I could hear the pain in my own voice.  I spoke of the race to keep Alberto here to face the charges, his compliance with the orders of the immigration judge, and the painful kick in the gut when we received that approval a day too late.  I spoke of the battle to get our case processed by the USCIS and the invocation of my *favorite* Senator that finally gave us results.  I spoke of the anticipation of the visa appointment, and the gut wrenching pain when he was denied the second appointment.  I offered to bring in the documentation for her review to which she replied it wasn’t necessary, but this information was extremely important to her and his case.

The probation officer told me to expect Alberto to receive a stayed sentenced for the minimum possible; one year plus 1 day.  He would have 5 years of probation with no conditions imposed because this charge, though a felony, was still minor in nature.  She stated that any time he was still in jail for on the immigration hold would count towards his criminal sentence and if he served 2/3 of his sentence by the time we were able to obtain his release from immigration’s grasp, his obligation to Hennepin County would have been fulfilled. 

Let the countdown begin

A few things have happened since my last post so let’s start with Friday and move on from there.   Friday arrived with some rather upsetting news regarding my summons to serve jury duty.  It is the policy of my employer to pay an employee for the hours they would miss while serving jury duty, however, as a seasonal employee I am not entitled to this benefit.  We are talking about a loss of at least $400 in potential income for someone who barely survives paycheck to paycheck.  My first productive reaction to this was to ask my supervisor if I could get this in writing so I could attempt to get released from jury duty due to the financial hardship it would cause my family.  I didn’t anticipate that I would be successful getting released from my obligation, but it was worth a shot. 

Saturday saw the completion of the playhouse my parents bought at Menards last weekend.  We’re actually still missing a piece which, hopefully, will be sent to us posthaste.    Maybe I’ll find a picture of the playhouse online and post it on my blog.  It was incredibly satisfying to see Ashley move her little camp chairs into the house and play for an hour.  The playhouse even smells awesome since it is constructed of cedar!  Once we have the missing piece we’ll be able to attach the stove top so Ashley can run a play taquería out of her home.  Ashley and Josie should have a ball playing with the playhouse.

To be continued

To be perfectly honest, I didn’t anticipate that the Omnibus Hearing on Friday would be quite so interesting.  I had dressed carefully in a suit and even styled my hair using a hairagami to make a bun.  I love those things by the way; super-fast and easy even for the fashion inept!  Well I managed to get out of the house on time (que milagro), and Ashley didn’t complain too much about being left with Gisela.  The hearing was scheduled to start at 9 am, and I was in the area by 8:30.  Since I had been unable to find any information regarding the location of the hearing, I stopped at the jail.  After the guards at the desk couldn’t help me, they told me to go through security to speak with the clerk of courts for that building as she would have that information.  As I waited in line, I quickly removed any items on my person containing metal parts and placed them in my purse to go through the x-ray machine.  I walked through and set off the detector which I had never done in all the time I had come to this same building to visit Alberto.  I removed my shoes thinking the buckles might be the issue and stepped through again. BEEP BEEP BEEP!  I took off my bracelets next to walk through again. BEEP BEEP BEEP!  ¡Chin!  I came back looking confused and the guard asked if I had anything in my hair or any other body jewelry that was not gold or silver.  I couldn’t think of what would be causing the detector to go off so the guard used the wand to discover the source.  It was my hair, more specifically it was the hairagami that was folded into my hair to create the bun that looked so nice.  After discovering the source, I pulled it out of my hair, set it down, and walked through without a hitch.  That was 10 minutes of my time out the window for trying to look nice. 

So after I got through security, I approached the clerk of court to get the information.  As I was talking to her I had pulled another hair binder from my purse and was securing my hair in a bun without the use of the dratted hairagami.  I had to spell out Alberto’s full name for her and was informed that court was being held in the Government Center across the street and that it would be on the 17th floor.  Great!  I rushed out of the jail and moved with surprising speed towards the Government Center.  I found where I needed to be and discovered I would have to go through security again which took up another 10 minutes because I had several people in front of me.  The guard on crowd control was surprisingly chipper, and I managed to get cleared without taking everything off again.  After getting into the elevator and cruising up to the 17th floor, I was greeted by emptiness.  There was not a single person to be found on this floor until an attorney emerged for another elevator.  I found the courtroom for the Judge assigned to the hearing and sat down to wait for Brian.  He said he was going to be late since he had another hearing in another building that had started at 8:30.  I did not speak to anyone, nor did anyone speak to me when the interesting portion of the hearing started.

A week to forget and it's not even Friday

This whole last week has been pretty lousy to tell you the truth.  I had accepted on Monday afternoon that they were going to bring him back here since the 10 days had passed without Alberto gaining his release.  This inspired a mad cleaning frenzy since I was embarrassed at the condition of our room.  I make sure Ashley’s room is clean, and the family room where she plays is clean.  I honestly don’t care what my room looks like as long as my clothes are clean and accessible and the bed is in good order.  Alberto on the other hand doesn’t like having the bedroom in a constant state of disaster.  The problem is I have been in the middle of organizing and throwing out junk for about a month now, so I have things everywhere until I find a place for them.  I am a huge pack rat, and I have a hard time throwing anything out which makes our room cluttered.  I freely admit most of the things I have are crap, but that doesn’t stop me from having to sort through every single little thing I own and still setting things aside to keep.  I still have a lot of work to do on our room, but it definitely looks better.

On Wednesday I went online to make sure he was still in jail, and it showed he was released at 8 am that morning.  I called the information line at the jail, and the guy I talked to confirmed that he was in the process of extradition.  I didn’t know what mode of transportation they were using, but I knew he would be here sooner than later.  I didn’t hear anything else for the entire day.