Quite the predicament
Pretend you’re this young man. You walk out of a dingy governmental office onto a busy city street, the likes of which you have never seen before. People are dressed strangely, vehicles look weird, shop fronts are plastered with signs you can’t understand.
You have neither friends nor family in this strange place -- no one was waiting for you at the airport. You have the clothes on your back and a large suitcase carrying spare clothing, personal necessaries, and a few small keepsakes and photos. In your pocket you have $500. You have no credit card, no bank account.
Rain falls intermittently and you have no umbrella. You have a local map that you can’t understand, but it has icons showing places where you might lodge. You go to one of those places and you finally understand that a room costs $79. You decide to take it to get your bearings, to think, to get out of the chilly rain.
You need food and street vendors offer the promise of cheap sustenance. Soon you will need permanent shelter as well as a job to renew your cash. But, you can’t speak the language and you have only $400 and some change left. What’s next?
Alien in an alien land
Now pretend that you’re a young Korean girl who has been in America since the age of three. The only Korean word you know is “kimchi.” You know the words to The Star Spangled Banner and they bring tears to your eyes. You want to go on to college.
You first became aware of your predicament when you applied for a driver’s permit and a social security card so you could take an after-school job. You are in this situation because you were illegally brought to America when you were just a toddler.
You have no born-in-the-USA status, but you are a proud (though illegal) citizen who is as American as the next college-bound youngster. Imagine dropping this young woman into the middle of downtown Seoul – with five hundred bucks and a suitcase.
Folks such as these two young people really do exist and many immigrants face such a circumstance after being caught in the long, cold arms of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). Many do find themselves as aliens in an alien land that just happens to be the land of their birth.
Rounding out the picture
The young man pictured above came to America with his Filipino mother when he was nine. Escape was on her mind since both of them were abused by her husband. She ultimately became naturalized. The young man holds no legal status and is in his late twenties. He is an alcoholic and has held jobs only sporadically.
ICE found him because of the Secure Communities initiative requiring local law enforcement agencies to run the fingerprints of anyone arrested through a Homeland Security database. He was first discovered when he was arrested for smoking marijuana. His lawyer was able to forestall his deportation then, citing familial hardship and the fact that he qualified for cancellation of deportation, having been here more than the required seven years. Since, he has been arrested for shoplifting alcoholic beverages, battery, driving without a license, using false identification, and other petty crimes.
The young woman finished her undergraduate studies, but she now works under the table as a waitress to sustain herself since she has no papers allowing her to work in her chosen profession. She has never broken the law, and is not currently under any sort of scrutiny. Yet she lives in the shadows as a de facto US citizen who is unable to share her education along with the other investments American society has made in her. She could be an exemplary, tax-paying citizen.
To be or not to be…an American citizen
If you were an immigration judge, who would you allow to remain in the US as a legal citizen? Of course, the young woman -- but, why not the young man? Probably for the same reasons an attorney is representing him pro bono. The young man was recently served with a sentence of deportation. His pro bono attorney is appealing the decision.
During his removal hearing, the young man was tearful and full of remorse. He told the judge he would undergo addiction treatment. The judge acknowledged that he thought he was credible, that he was willing to change his life. But the judge decided on deportation anyway. This decision was made regarding the petty crimes. The lack of steady employment and the alcoholism were also considered.
Tantamount to a death sentence
The young man’s pro bono attorney thinks the judgment is too harsh. Turning him into the streets of Manila would be tantamount to a death sentence. He hasn’t been in that country for over twenty years. He has no relatives or friends there. He has no education and he doesn’t speak the language. His life would be nothing but miserable and probably short.
The pro bono attorney does not believe life is so black and white, so easily approved or disapproved. Indeed, the attorney has admitted that this is not his best case. He would not invite the young man to dinner nor allow him to mingle with his children. The attorney is also afraid of becoming a robotic manifestation of the black letter of the law. He is afraid of failing to consider the dynamics of life and redemption. He worries that this may be a moral lesson wherein we fail ourselves and our children. He wants to place himself a step away, to allow himself scrutiny of our society and its wisdom, or lack thereof.
Asking hard questions
The pro bono attorney wants to always ask questions. Is the young man so worthless that he must be flung out of the country like so much trash? Are the crimes he committed worthy of what could well be a death sentence? Is it asking too much of our society to give him one more chance? He thinks the judge should have allowed the young man to stay on the condition of rehab for his alcoholism and ability to hold a job. He could perhaps become a role model for others in this same strange predicament. He could become a job-holding taxpayer. The chance exists that he could become as exemplary a citizen as the young woman.
But isn’t our society treating both of them as undesirables? Wouldn’t we be acting cruelly by deporting either? And where do you draw the line between the two? Why does the young woman have to live in the shadows? Have we so greatly lost our American compassion, the feeling for the little guy, the feeling for the immigrant, while we pride ourselves in being a nation of immigrants? Those are the hard questions the pro bono attorney asks himself. So should every American.
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Lazaro Law Group, Professional Corporation represents immigrants all over the United States and the US Embassy in Manila. The firm’s offices are located in San Francisco, Fremont/Newark/Union City, and Sacramento, California. Attorney Johnson Lazaro can be reached at (415) 800-5775 or toll free at (855) 4-LAZARO. His email is This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .
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This article should not be taken as legal advice for any individual case or situation. The information is intended to be general and should not be relied upon for any specific situation. This is not meant to create a lawyer-client relationship.
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