Karina is a seventeen year old girl who was born in the United States to a Dominican father and a US citizen mother. When she was seven years old, she experienced a de facto deportation to the Dominican Republic. As a US citizen, Karina has the right to live in the United States. She and her father wanted her to grow up in the US. However, her father’s deportation prevented that from happening. When Karina’s father was deported to the DR in 1999, Karina was in his custody.
Karina and her father, Roberto, thought they were going on vacation when they boarded a plane to the DR in 1999, but that vacation turned permanent when a retroactive deportation law rendered Roberto a deportable alien. This is their story.
Roberto grew up in a small town in Santo Domingo where his father farmed the land. Roberto decided to join the Dominican Navy after seeing a young man dressed in a naval uniform near his hometown. Once in the Navy, Roberto traveled aboard ships to other countries including the United States. After his first trip to Norfolk, Virginia, Roberto decided he’d like to live in the United States.
Roberto was impressed with the cleanliness and large modern buildings in Norfolk and vowed to return once he finished his military service. In 1985, Roberto was able to secure a visa and travel to the United States. Between 1985 and 1990, Roberto traveled back and forth from the DR to the US. Each time he went, he worked at a gas station owned by a Dominican man he knew from his work in the military.
In 1990, Roberto decided to stay in the US and not return to the DR. The reason was that he planned to marry an American woman he had met on the coast in Massachusetts. Not too long before they were married, Roberto found himself in trouble with the law. Roberto told me that as a military man from a small town in the DR, he was completely unfamiliar with illegal drugs and had never laid a hand on them. Despite this, he was arrested on drug charges in New Hampshire.
This is how he explained the situation. He and his fiancé were planning to spend the weekend together. Before going to the coast, she wanted to stop at her place and pick up some clothes. However, she didn’t want her father to see Roberto, as her father was racist and didn’t like people of color. So, she left Roberto in the parking lot of a nearby apartment building while she went home.
At the time, Roberto was living in Massachusetts, and this apartment building was in New Hampshire. While Roberto was waiting outside the apartment building, a police vehicle pulled up and arrested Roberto. It turned out that one of the apartments was a drug house, and Roberto was standing near the door. At first they charged him with possession of the drugs and weapons that were inside the house as well as with a drug sale. Roberto denied all of the charges. The first two charges were dropped, but he remained a suspect in a drug sale that had happened at another location.
Roberto insisted on his innocence. The judge suggested he plead guilty, and told him there would be no time or parole were he to plead guilty. Roberto insisted he could not plead guilty, as a matter of principle. He had never had anything to do with drugs, and refused to sign. Roberto went back and forth to court for two years. Finally, one day, as he was chatting with his interpreter, his lawyer got him to sign. Roberto insists he was tricked. He said his lawyer walked by with a big stack of files, and asked Roberto to sign a paper so that she could keep going. Feeling bad because she was physically burdened with so many files, Roberto signed the paper.
In the courtroom a few minutes later, the judge told him that he was glad he finally agreed to sign. Roberto had signed a guilty plea, and that was the end of the case. Roberto felt tricked, but was glad the case was behind him, and went on with his life.
That was in 1991, and there were no immigration consequences to his plea at the time. Roberto was not yet a legal permanent resident, however, as his paperwork had not gone through yet. When it came time for Roberto to become a legal permanent resident, his application was denied. Roberto said it was denied because his wife was receiving government aid, and had a history of drug abuse. Roberto was not sure of the details, but it seems likely that their application was denied because of her financial instability.
Meanwhile, Roberto and his wife had a baby girl, Karina. Before Karina was a year old, they separated and Roberto got sole custody of his baby daughter. In January 1999, Roberto received a letter asking him to come to the immigration office. When he went to the immigration office he was told he was eligible for legalization on the basis of his US-born daughter. Roberto got his green card and almost immediately purchased a ticket back to the Dominican Republic. He was anxious to return home and wanted his family to meet his daughter. Roberto stayed in the DR for one month. When it was time for Roberto to go back and work, his sister suggested he leave Karina behind for another week.
When Roberto arrived in the US, border agents stopped him and told him he was ineligible for entry on the basis of his 1991 guilty plea for the sale of $20 of cocaine.
When Roberto pled guilt to the drug charge, there were no immigration consequences to his plea. The judge, his lawyer and his interpreter assured him that all he needed to do was to sign and the case would be behind him. He would serve no time, and would be able to get on with his life. They were right. However, in 1996, the laws changed, and this became a deportable offense.
Roberto was put into an immigration prison and deported back to the Dominican Republic. Karina has stayed in the DR with him, and has grown up in the Dominican Republic. With no family in the US, she may never return.
Showing posts with label deportees in the Dominican Republic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label deportees in the Dominican Republic. Show all posts
February 23, 2010
January 21, 2010
Waiting for deportees in Santo Domingo
I arrived at the Departamento de Deportados at noon on Wednesday, January 20, 2010. I had received permission from the Director of Migration to observe the arrival of deportees from the United States to the Dominican Republic. I accompanied the staff of the Department of Migration (DGM) to the airport to greet the deportees and observed their processing in Santo Domingo.
Every two weeks, a planeload of deportees arrives in the Dominican Republic from the US. The deportees are people who have been detained in the United States immigrant detention system because of some violation of provisions of the Immigration and Nationality Act of (INA). This includes violation of the civil provisions of the INA such as crossing the border without inspection or overstaying a visa and criminal provisions of the INA such as immigration fraud or smuggling.
When I arrived at the Deportee Department, the receptionist told me that the flight, which was scheduled to arrive at 1:15pm, had been delayed. She still did not know when it would arrive, but had a list of the 137 deportees who were scheduled to arrive that day.
I took a seat in the small waiting room, and waited to find out when the flight would arrive. Soon after I took my seat, a man with a lavender cotton shirt came in and asked the receptionist if a deportee will arrive that evening. He gave her the name. She looked it up and said, yes, the deportee is scheduled to arrive, and has been convicted of robbery. The man asked if the deportation will be recorded as criminal in the Dominican Republic. The receptionist told him that it will. He asked if there is any way to avoid that, and she told him there is not.
In the Dominican Republic, officials distinguish between people who are deported on criminal grounds and those who are deported on immigration grounds. Dominicans who are caught crossing the border illegally in the United States or who have overstayed their visas in the U.S. and are deported on those ground are considered non-criminal deportees in the Dominican Republic. In contrast, Dominicans who are deported after being convicted of a crime in the United States are considered criminal deportees and are subject to further surveillance in the Dominican Republic. The reason for their deportation is recorded, and their deportation shows up on their criminal and credit reports in the Dominican Republic.
As I sat in the waiting room, people filed in and out, inquiring about deportees who were scheduled to arrive. Each person arrived with a name, and the receptionist looked it up. She told them if the person was being deported on criminal or non-criminal grounds, as those who are deported on criminal grounds are taken to the booking office in Villa Juana, whereas those deported on non-criminal grounds are released from the immigration office.
The phone rings several times. Each time it is a person wanting to know if and when a relative or friend will be arriving on the flight. The receptionist has to repeat over and over again that she does not know for sure when the flight will arrive.
The man in the lavender shirt came back in two more times to check on when the flight will come, and each time he asked if there was any way to avoid the criminal deportation remaining on the record. Each time he got the same answer. On one of the visits, he said he was the deportee’s lawyer.
At 1:30, the receptionist began to call the US embassy to get information about the flight. People kept calling and coming in, and she still didn’t have a confirmed time. She also was not looking forward to working late. The following day was a holiday, and everyone was anxious to get home. She kept calling, and finally, at 2pm, she got an answer, the flight will arrive at 3:45 – two and a half hours late.
At 2:20pm, the receptionist got another call. They have just learned that the plane will not carry 137 people, but 30 people. They got a new list of arrivals. Apparently, the bad weather conditions prevented the flights from the northern United States from arriving in Texas, and the plane from Texas had to leave without them.
The new information seemed to get around quickly, as some of the same people came back in to ask again. The man in the lavender shirt is among them, and his client still will be coming. Others found out that their relative is no longer on the list and that they will have to call to find out if they will come the following week.
Finally, it is 3pm, and Santiago – a military officer – let me know it is time to leave to go to the airport. Soldiers, at the service of the DGM, are responsible for security. Santiago seems to be in charge of most things during the process.
I get in a car driven by a solider with Santiago and two officials from the DGM. When we arrive at the airport, it was 4pm, and the plane had arrived. The deportee plane arrives in the cargo area of the airport. Their plane landed next to a UPS plane and a DHL plane.
The deportee’s plane was a large white, unmarked plane. There were two ICE officials on the plane who spoke Spanish and communicated with the Dominican officials.
Santiago boarded the plane and explained to the deportees the process which they were about to go through. He called them each by name and they got off the plane one by one onto a DGM bus that was waiting for them. The bus had the protection of several soldiers, in addition to bars on the windows and bars protecting the driver from the passengers.
The passengers included two women and 28 men. Eleven of the passengers had been deported for immigration reasons and the rest on criminal grounds. We drove back to DGM, arriving at 5pm. Once there, the deportees were escorted upstairs, and they were given their possessions – a change of clothes for some, books, photos, make-up, deodorant, and shoelaces, among other things.
Santiago asked all of the deportees to sit down, and separated them into two groups – those deported for being undocumented and those deported on criminal grounds. The non-criminal deportees were processed first. They went, one by one, to be fingerprinted and have their names and information recorded both by the DGM and the Departamento Nacional de Investigaciones (DNI). As there were only eleven, that took about 40 minutes. Then, it was time to process those who were deported on criminal grounds. They went through the same process, but had to be taken from there to Villa Juana, to be booked again by the police and the drug control division.
At 6:15, those deported on criminal grounds were sent to Villa Juana. And, the family members of the others came for them to sign them out. At 6:35pm, the last deportees were being signed out and I left.
It was a very long day for the deportees. They began to board the aircraft at 10:00am, and arrived in Santo Domingo at 4pm. The undocumented deportees were released at 6:30pm. But, those deported on criminal grounds had to go through yet another process, and some would not be released for another few more hours. They were fortunate, however, that there were only 30 deportees, as more would have taken longer.
When I arrived at the Deportee Department, the receptionist told me that the flight, which was scheduled to arrive at 1:15pm, had been delayed. She still did not know when it would arrive, but had a list of the 137 deportees who were scheduled to arrive that day.
I took a seat in the small waiting room, and waited to find out when the flight would arrive. Soon after I took my seat, a man with a lavender cotton shirt came in and asked the receptionist if a deportee will arrive that evening. He gave her the name. She looked it up and said, yes, the deportee is scheduled to arrive, and has been convicted of robbery. The man asked if the deportation will be recorded as criminal in the Dominican Republic. The receptionist told him that it will. He asked if there is any way to avoid that, and she told him there is not.
In the Dominican Republic, officials distinguish between people who are deported on criminal grounds and those who are deported on immigration grounds. Dominicans who are caught crossing the border illegally in the United States or who have overstayed their visas in the U.S. and are deported on those ground are considered non-criminal deportees in the Dominican Republic. In contrast, Dominicans who are deported after being convicted of a crime in the United States are considered criminal deportees and are subject to further surveillance in the Dominican Republic. The reason for their deportation is recorded, and their deportation shows up on their criminal and credit reports in the Dominican Republic.
As I sat in the waiting room, people filed in and out, inquiring about deportees who were scheduled to arrive. Each person arrived with a name, and the receptionist looked it up. She told them if the person was being deported on criminal or non-criminal grounds, as those who are deported on criminal grounds are taken to the booking office in Villa Juana, whereas those deported on non-criminal grounds are released from the immigration office.
The phone rings several times. Each time it is a person wanting to know if and when a relative or friend will be arriving on the flight. The receptionist has to repeat over and over again that she does not know for sure when the flight will arrive.
The man in the lavender shirt came back in two more times to check on when the flight will come, and each time he asked if there was any way to avoid the criminal deportation remaining on the record. Each time he got the same answer. On one of the visits, he said he was the deportee’s lawyer.
At 1:30, the receptionist began to call the US embassy to get information about the flight. People kept calling and coming in, and she still didn’t have a confirmed time. She also was not looking forward to working late. The following day was a holiday, and everyone was anxious to get home. She kept calling, and finally, at 2pm, she got an answer, the flight will arrive at 3:45 – two and a half hours late.
At 2:20pm, the receptionist got another call. They have just learned that the plane will not carry 137 people, but 30 people. They got a new list of arrivals. Apparently, the bad weather conditions prevented the flights from the northern United States from arriving in Texas, and the plane from Texas had to leave without them.
The new information seemed to get around quickly, as some of the same people came back in to ask again. The man in the lavender shirt is among them, and his client still will be coming. Others found out that their relative is no longer on the list and that they will have to call to find out if they will come the following week.
Finally, it is 3pm, and Santiago – a military officer – let me know it is time to leave to go to the airport. Soldiers, at the service of the DGM, are responsible for security. Santiago seems to be in charge of most things during the process.
I get in a car driven by a solider with Santiago and two officials from the DGM. When we arrive at the airport, it was 4pm, and the plane had arrived. The deportee plane arrives in the cargo area of the airport. Their plane landed next to a UPS plane and a DHL plane.
The deportee’s plane was a large white, unmarked plane. There were two ICE officials on the plane who spoke Spanish and communicated with the Dominican officials.
Santiago boarded the plane and explained to the deportees the process which they were about to go through. He called them each by name and they got off the plane one by one onto a DGM bus that was waiting for them. The bus had the protection of several soldiers, in addition to bars on the windows and bars protecting the driver from the passengers.
The passengers included two women and 28 men. Eleven of the passengers had been deported for immigration reasons and the rest on criminal grounds. We drove back to DGM, arriving at 5pm. Once there, the deportees were escorted upstairs, and they were given their possessions – a change of clothes for some, books, photos, make-up, deodorant, and shoelaces, among other things.
Santiago asked all of the deportees to sit down, and separated them into two groups – those deported for being undocumented and those deported on criminal grounds. The non-criminal deportees were processed first. They went, one by one, to be fingerprinted and have their names and information recorded both by the DGM and the Departamento Nacional de Investigaciones (DNI). As there were only eleven, that took about 40 minutes. Then, it was time to process those who were deported on criminal grounds. They went through the same process, but had to be taken from there to Villa Juana, to be booked again by the police and the drug control division.
At 6:15, those deported on criminal grounds were sent to Villa Juana. And, the family members of the others came for them to sign them out. At 6:35pm, the last deportees were being signed out and I left.
It was a very long day for the deportees. They began to board the aircraft at 10:00am, and arrived in Santo Domingo at 4pm. The undocumented deportees were released at 6:30pm. But, those deported on criminal grounds had to go through yet another process, and some would not be released for another few more hours. They were fortunate, however, that there were only 30 deportees, as more would have taken longer.
December 21, 2009
Deportee, Rene Vicioso, establishes NGO designed to help deportees
Rene finished high school in 1968, and began to study law at the public university – UASD. At UASD, Rene joined a group of militant, left-wing students. Rene’s father began to worry for his safety, and decided to send him to the United States. At the time, it was fairly easy for Dominicans to get visas to travel to the US, especially young leftists like Rene.
Rene arrived in 1971 in New York City. He attended night school at George Washington High School, where he finished an English course and a high school certificate. With this, Rene could enroll in Columbia University. He again began to study law, this time in the United States.
While at Columbia, Rene met a young Dominican woman and they began to date. They soon were married, and, not too long after, she became pregnant with their first son. When Rene’s father found out about the marriage and the pregnancy, he told Rene he would have to work. His father would no longer support him.
Rene looked at his options for work, and decided that the easiest way to make money was to sell drugs. Thus, in 1972, Rene began what would become a fairly long career as a drug dealer. Rene managed to stay out of trouble with the law until 1981, when he was found with a firearm. He served a year for that. Then, in 1982, he served two years for possession of one gram of cocaine. Back on the streets, Rene went back to drug dealing.
Although he now had a record and knew that he was at risk of doing serious time, Rene continued to sell drugs, in part because he had developed a heroin addiction, and this was the best way to feed it. Also, he had connections that allowed him to make lots of money to support his family. By this time, Rene had three children and a wife to support.
In 1987, Rene was arrested and charged with criminal enterprise and racketeering. He had been shipping kilos of cocaine from Miami to New York City, and, after a lengthy FBI investigation, had been caught. In 1990, Rene was sentenced to 40 years in prison.
Once in prison, it hit Rene that he would be doing some serious time. He decided that he would spend his time in the library, trying to fight his case. Rene began a long series of appeals, arguing that his sentence of 40 years did not fit the crime. Eventually, his appeals were successful, and, in 2004, Rene was released from prison, after serving 17 years in federal prison.
As Rene was a Dominican national, he was deported to the Dominican Republic after completing his sentence. His sisters and brother came to pick him up at the airport, and helped him get settled in. Rene’s wife had purchased an apartment in Gazcue, so Rene eventually was able to move in there.
Just one year after arriving in the Dominican Republic, Rene established an NGO, Bienvenido Seas, designed to help deportees reintegrate into society. Upon arriving in Santo Domingo, Rene realized that there are nothing but obstacles for deportees. With “deported” on their records, deportees cannot obtain credit cards, cannot open bank accounts, and cannot get stable employment.
Rene acknowledges that he committed serious crimes in the United States. However, he thinks he has served his time and paid his debt to society. As such, he asks why he is punished again in the Dominican Republic.
Determined to do something about this stigma, Rene enrolled in university in Santo Domingo, and established Bienvenido Seas. At university, again, he is studying law. This time, however, it looks as though Rene will finally be able to obtain that degree. He just has one semester of studies left and looks forward to obtaining his degree such that he can work, and help other deportees achieve their goals in the Dominican Republic.
December 19, 2009
Disabled US Army Veteran with Seven Children in the US Deported to the Dominican Republic for $10 of Crack
“Joselo” was born in 1949. He traveled to the United States in 1965, fleeing the Revolution in the Dominican Republic. He was fifteen years old.
Joselo’s father was born in the Dominican Republic to Puerto Rican parents. He had moved to the US in 1960, leaving Joselo behind. It was difficult to leave the Dominican Republic during the Trujillo Era, but his father was able to leave, as he told government officials that he was traveling to attend to his Puerto Rican parents. He requested to leave the country on the basis that his mother was ill.
Trujillo was assassinated in 1961. Soon after, the Revolution broke out, and Joselo is among the many Dominicans who fled to the United States. His father was a US citizen, and Joselo traveled to the US as a legal permanent resident.
Joselo attended high school in Brooklyn. However, he did not get past the ninth grade. Joselo lived with his father and stepmother in Brooklyn. His father was abusive towards his stepmother, and he was anxious to leave the house. His opportunity arrived when he turned 18, and he enrolled in the US army.
Joselo served two years in the US army, and then two more years in the US army reserves. When he got out of the army in 1973, he began to work in a plastic factory in Brooklyn. Joselo became a foreman in the factory, and was earning good money. He worked in that factory for about fifteen years, until it finally closed down. When the factory closed down, Joselo found himself unemployed, and it was difficult to find work.
Joselo had seven children in the US – six daughters and one son. He had three before he married, and then four with his US citizen wife. His wife worked as a social worker. When he was laid off, she helped him get unemployment checks.
After the factory closed down, Joselo began to have problems with his mental health, and then with law enforcement agents. In 1989, Joselo was charged with the sale of $10 of crack cocaine to an undercover agent. He did not have to serve time for that charge, as it was a first offense.
Joselo continued to suffer from mental health issues. He was able to get payments as a disabled veteran, as he showed that his health problems were related to his time in the armed services.
In 1998, Joselo found himself in trouble with the law again. For the second time, he was charged with the sale of $10 of crack cocaine. This time, he was sentenced to two and a half years in prison. He was released in 2000, and was deported to the Dominican Republic.
Joselo thought that, as his father was a US citizen, and he served time in the army, that he was automatically a US citizen. He may, in fact, be a US citizen, if it is true, as he claims, that his father’s parents were born in Puerto Rico. That would mean that his father was a US citizen when he was born, making him a US citizen. Joselo, however, did not have the documentation to show this when he was facing deportation.
When Joselo arrived as a deportee in the Dominican Republic, he had no family in the Dominican Republic to receive him. His wife traveled to the DR from New York to ensure that he found a place to settle down. She found him housing in a motel, and left him. She had to return to attend to their four children.
Joselo receives his army pension, and is able to survive with that money – nearly US$1000 per month. However, he does not like it in the Dominican Republic. He left here when he was fifteen, and is not able to get used to living in the Dominican Republic.
His family in the US has come to visit him here. His wife has come twice, as have his daughters. They speak on the phone daily. Still, Joselo dreams of returning to the United States, the country where he spent 35 years and all of his family lives.
Joselo’s father was born in the Dominican Republic to Puerto Rican parents. He had moved to the US in 1960, leaving Joselo behind. It was difficult to leave the Dominican Republic during the Trujillo Era, but his father was able to leave, as he told government officials that he was traveling to attend to his Puerto Rican parents. He requested to leave the country on the basis that his mother was ill.
Trujillo was assassinated in 1961. Soon after, the Revolution broke out, and Joselo is among the many Dominicans who fled to the United States. His father was a US citizen, and Joselo traveled to the US as a legal permanent resident.
Joselo attended high school in Brooklyn. However, he did not get past the ninth grade. Joselo lived with his father and stepmother in Brooklyn. His father was abusive towards his stepmother, and he was anxious to leave the house. His opportunity arrived when he turned 18, and he enrolled in the US army.
Joselo served two years in the US army, and then two more years in the US army reserves. When he got out of the army in 1973, he began to work in a plastic factory in Brooklyn. Joselo became a foreman in the factory, and was earning good money. He worked in that factory for about fifteen years, until it finally closed down. When the factory closed down, Joselo found himself unemployed, and it was difficult to find work.
Joselo had seven children in the US – six daughters and one son. He had three before he married, and then four with his US citizen wife. His wife worked as a social worker. When he was laid off, she helped him get unemployment checks.
After the factory closed down, Joselo began to have problems with his mental health, and then with law enforcement agents. In 1989, Joselo was charged with the sale of $10 of crack cocaine to an undercover agent. He did not have to serve time for that charge, as it was a first offense.
Joselo continued to suffer from mental health issues. He was able to get payments as a disabled veteran, as he showed that his health problems were related to his time in the armed services.
In 1998, Joselo found himself in trouble with the law again. For the second time, he was charged with the sale of $10 of crack cocaine. This time, he was sentenced to two and a half years in prison. He was released in 2000, and was deported to the Dominican Republic.
Joselo thought that, as his father was a US citizen, and he served time in the army, that he was automatically a US citizen. He may, in fact, be a US citizen, if it is true, as he claims, that his father’s parents were born in Puerto Rico. That would mean that his father was a US citizen when he was born, making him a US citizen. Joselo, however, did not have the documentation to show this when he was facing deportation.
When Joselo arrived as a deportee in the Dominican Republic, he had no family in the Dominican Republic to receive him. His wife traveled to the DR from New York to ensure that he found a place to settle down. She found him housing in a motel, and left him. She had to return to attend to their four children.
Joselo receives his army pension, and is able to survive with that money – nearly US$1000 per month. However, he does not like it in the Dominican Republic. He left here when he was fifteen, and is not able to get used to living in the Dominican Republic.
His family in the US has come to visit him here. His wife has come twice, as have his daughters. They speak on the phone daily. Still, Joselo dreams of returning to the United States, the country where he spent 35 years and all of his family lives.
December 17, 2009
The 1996 Laws Are Retroactive – Dominican Deported in 2009 for 1990 Crime
“Harold” was born in 1965 in Santo Domingo. He does not remember much about the neighborhood he grew up in, as he left the island when he was eight years old. In 1973, Harold moved with his family to Washington Heights, as a legal permanent resident of the United States. Harold finished high school at George Washington High School in that same neighborhood.
Harold tried college out for a while, but decided to try his lot in the labor force. He worked in grocery stores and other odd jobs until he landed a stable job in a mailing company. Harold worked there for six years until the company closed down and the entire staff was laid off.
In 1990, Harold found himself unemployed, and he had just had a baby girl with a Puerto Rican woman. She also worked at the mailing company, so both were out of work. There were plenty of opportunities for Harold to sell drugs in Washington Heights, and he began to sell drugs to support his family. Not too long after he started, Harold was caught and charged with criminal sale of $5 worth of crack cocaine. He was sentenced to three years probation, and decided that the criminal lifestyle was not for him.
Harold never got into trouble with the police again; went back to working in the formal labor market. He worked at Starbucks and at a construction company and became a handy-man. Things were going well for Harold; he learned how to repair all sorts of home appliances and made a living repairing things. He split up with the mother of his two children, but they kept in contact. He met another woman, and they bought a house together.
In 2007, three years after Harold and his wife bought a house, he began to have problems with his children’s mother over child support. One of his daughters was too old to receive child support, but the other was 15, and thus was eligible for another two years. Harold went to court several times to explain his side of the story. Each time, he was given an extension and another court date. However, Harold made a mistake with one of his court dates and forgot to show up. The detective called him to remind him, and Harold left work to go to court. He arrived late, and tried to explain his lateness.
The judge, however, thought Harold was trying to avoid his court date, and ordered Harold sentenced to six months in jail for failure to pay child support. Harold served his time. However, instead of being released, he was told he had an immigration hold. Harold had to go to immigration court with regard to his 1990 conviction. Although his case had been closed eighteen years before, and, at the time, there were no immigration consequences to his guilty plea, Harold faced deportation.
Harold got a lawyer from inside the detention facility in Louisiana. She advised him to plead guilty to the charge that the 1990 sale was an aggravated felony, but Harold disagreed. He thought he could win his case. Harold spent eleven months inside an immigration detention facility in Louisiana, fighting his case, sending appeal after appeal. He told me he spent over $300 in stamps. Convinced he eventually would win, he never signed his deportation orders.
That did not stop ICE from deporting him. In October 2009, Harold was deported to the Dominican Republic, the country he left when he was eight years old. He had not been back since he left the DR as a child.
The only people he knew here were his brother, who also had been deported, and his sister, who lives in the DR for part of the year.
Harold finds it hard to adjust to life in the DR. He is used to the laws, customs, and people of New York City. He expressed awe at the fact that here, in the DR, you can drink beer in the park.
Harold went to get a national ID card in Santo Domingo, so that he can begin to look for a job. However, when he got to the office, they told him his birth certificate was false. Now, he has to go to the local office where he was born to get a new one. I asked Harold how he felt when they told him his birth certificate was fake. He said he was scared that he would get in trouble for possession of false documents. But, he didn’t. They just told him to get an authentic one.
Harold tried college out for a while, but decided to try his lot in the labor force. He worked in grocery stores and other odd jobs until he landed a stable job in a mailing company. Harold worked there for six years until the company closed down and the entire staff was laid off.
In 1990, Harold found himself unemployed, and he had just had a baby girl with a Puerto Rican woman. She also worked at the mailing company, so both were out of work. There were plenty of opportunities for Harold to sell drugs in Washington Heights, and he began to sell drugs to support his family. Not too long after he started, Harold was caught and charged with criminal sale of $5 worth of crack cocaine. He was sentenced to three years probation, and decided that the criminal lifestyle was not for him.
Harold never got into trouble with the police again; went back to working in the formal labor market. He worked at Starbucks and at a construction company and became a handy-man. Things were going well for Harold; he learned how to repair all sorts of home appliances and made a living repairing things. He split up with the mother of his two children, but they kept in contact. He met another woman, and they bought a house together.
In 2007, three years after Harold and his wife bought a house, he began to have problems with his children’s mother over child support. One of his daughters was too old to receive child support, but the other was 15, and thus was eligible for another two years. Harold went to court several times to explain his side of the story. Each time, he was given an extension and another court date. However, Harold made a mistake with one of his court dates and forgot to show up. The detective called him to remind him, and Harold left work to go to court. He arrived late, and tried to explain his lateness.
The judge, however, thought Harold was trying to avoid his court date, and ordered Harold sentenced to six months in jail for failure to pay child support. Harold served his time. However, instead of being released, he was told he had an immigration hold. Harold had to go to immigration court with regard to his 1990 conviction. Although his case had been closed eighteen years before, and, at the time, there were no immigration consequences to his guilty plea, Harold faced deportation.
Harold got a lawyer from inside the detention facility in Louisiana. She advised him to plead guilty to the charge that the 1990 sale was an aggravated felony, but Harold disagreed. He thought he could win his case. Harold spent eleven months inside an immigration detention facility in Louisiana, fighting his case, sending appeal after appeal. He told me he spent over $300 in stamps. Convinced he eventually would win, he never signed his deportation orders.
That did not stop ICE from deporting him. In October 2009, Harold was deported to the Dominican Republic, the country he left when he was eight years old. He had not been back since he left the DR as a child.
The only people he knew here were his brother, who also had been deported, and his sister, who lives in the DR for part of the year.
Harold finds it hard to adjust to life in the DR. He is used to the laws, customs, and people of New York City. He expressed awe at the fact that here, in the DR, you can drink beer in the park.
Harold went to get a national ID card in Santo Domingo, so that he can begin to look for a job. However, when he got to the office, they told him his birth certificate was false. Now, he has to go to the local office where he was born to get a new one. I asked Harold how he felt when they told him his birth certificate was fake. He said he was scared that he would get in trouble for possession of false documents. But, he didn’t. They just told him to get an authentic one.
December 11, 2009
The Elusive Carta de Buena Conducta
In the Dominican Republic, the “carta de buena conducta” is an official letter that indicates that you have a clean police record. These letters are necessary for most jobs in the formal labor market. Deportees have difficulty obtaining these letters, and therefore, inserting themselves in the formal labor market.
When deportees arrive in the Dominican Republic, they are split into two groups – those who are deported on criminal grounds, and those who are deported on non-criminal grounds (i.e. solely for being out of status). Those who are deported because they lacked permission to remain in the US are processed by immigration and allowed to go home. Those who are deported on criminal grounds are processed by immigration and taken to the police station.
For six months, deportees must report to the police station, as if they were on parole. In addition, police officers conduct field visits where they go to the deportees’ houses and ask their family members how they are doing. They also inquire with neighbors and local business owners as to the conduct of deportees. In addition, if a crime is committed in the neighborhood, the deportee is a suspect for the crime. One deportee told me he was picked up and taken to the police station, where he was kept in a holding cell with other men who were suspects for a crime. He was kept there all day, and only released in the night. He was not given any food or drink during his stay there. The reason for his incarceration was that, as a deportee, he was an automatic suspect.
Deportees in the Dominican Republic are treated as if they were criminals. After completing the six months parole, they are issued a carta de buena conducta. However, their letter says: “This person has no criminal record in the Dominican Republic, either before or after having been deported.” When potential employers see the deportation on their records, they are considerably less likely to hire them. This makes it very difficult for deportees to get formal employment. Instead, they are confined to the informal labor market – working here and there for small amounts of money, and often relying on remittances from family members in the US.
On one hand, it makes sense that Dominican employers should know if a potential employee was an axe murderer or rapist in the United States. A person convicted of child molestation in the US, for example, should not be permitted to work in a preschool in the Dominican Republic, particularly if that person has not been rehabilitated. However, these sorts of heinous crimes are the great minority among deportees.
The vast majority of deportees are deported on drug charges – possession or distribution of controlled substances in the US. Most deportees who sold drugs in the US did so because of the lack of formal labor market opportunities in the US and the lucrative possibilities in the drug market. All of the deportees I have spoken to greatly regret making the decision to sell or use drugs in the US, and have told me that they do not sell drugs in the Dominican Republic. Certainly, having the opportunity to work in the formal labor market would render them even less likely to sell drugs in the Dominican Republic. If anything, the limitations imposed by their “deportee” status showing up on their police record here make them more likely to go back to selling drugs.
Many people are also deported for misrepresentation on immigration forms. This is illegal in the US, and renders people subject to deportation. However, it is not a heinous crime, nor is it necessarily indicative of the moral character of deportees. Walter, for example, told immigration agents he had not been in the US before, when he had in fact traveled illegally to Puerto Rico as a minor. He told this lie so that he could remain with his wife and children in the United States. It was a calculated decision, based on his desire to remain with his family. His lie was discovered many years later, and he was deported. This “crime” shows up on his police record here and makes him ineligible for many employment positions. Walter is intelligent and fairly well-educated. Employers are missing out on the opportunity to hire an excellent employee by refusing him a job on the basis of his status as a deportee.
In sum, there should at least be some sort of review in the Dominican Republic that distinguishes between classes of deportees. Those who are deported for truly heinous crimes such as murder, rape and child abuse should be put into a prison release program, developed on models of programs that have been successful in other countries. Deportees convicted of heinous crimes often have spent decades in prison in the US, and will have trouble adjusting to any society.
It makes no sense to group all “criminal” deportees into one pile and offer all of them the same response: surveillance and stigmatization. It would be to the benefit of all to distinguish between deportees and help, not hinder, their reintegration into society.
When deportees arrive in the Dominican Republic, they are split into two groups – those who are deported on criminal grounds, and those who are deported on non-criminal grounds (i.e. solely for being out of status). Those who are deported because they lacked permission to remain in the US are processed by immigration and allowed to go home. Those who are deported on criminal grounds are processed by immigration and taken to the police station.
At the police station, deportees are booked as if they were being arrested for a crime. Their picture is taken, with a number across their chest. They are fingerprinted; their personal information is recorded in a data base. And, they are only released when a family member comes for them. The family member must tell the police the address to which they will take the deportee.
For six months, deportees must report to the police station, as if they were on parole. In addition, police officers conduct field visits where they go to the deportees’ houses and ask their family members how they are doing. They also inquire with neighbors and local business owners as to the conduct of deportees. In addition, if a crime is committed in the neighborhood, the deportee is a suspect for the crime. One deportee told me he was picked up and taken to the police station, where he was kept in a holding cell with other men who were suspects for a crime. He was kept there all day, and only released in the night. He was not given any food or drink during his stay there. The reason for his incarceration was that, as a deportee, he was an automatic suspect.
Deportees in the Dominican Republic are treated as if they were criminals. After completing the six months parole, they are issued a carta de buena conducta. However, their letter says: “This person has no criminal record in the Dominican Republic, either before or after having been deported.” When potential employers see the deportation on their records, they are considerably less likely to hire them. This makes it very difficult for deportees to get formal employment. Instead, they are confined to the informal labor market – working here and there for small amounts of money, and often relying on remittances from family members in the US.
On one hand, it makes sense that Dominican employers should know if a potential employee was an axe murderer or rapist in the United States. A person convicted of child molestation in the US, for example, should not be permitted to work in a preschool in the Dominican Republic, particularly if that person has not been rehabilitated. However, these sorts of heinous crimes are the great minority among deportees.
The vast majority of deportees are deported on drug charges – possession or distribution of controlled substances in the US. Most deportees who sold drugs in the US did so because of the lack of formal labor market opportunities in the US and the lucrative possibilities in the drug market. All of the deportees I have spoken to greatly regret making the decision to sell or use drugs in the US, and have told me that they do not sell drugs in the Dominican Republic. Certainly, having the opportunity to work in the formal labor market would render them even less likely to sell drugs in the Dominican Republic. If anything, the limitations imposed by their “deportee” status showing up on their police record here make them more likely to go back to selling drugs.
Many people are also deported for misrepresentation on immigration forms. This is illegal in the US, and renders people subject to deportation. However, it is not a heinous crime, nor is it necessarily indicative of the moral character of deportees. Walter, for example, told immigration agents he had not been in the US before, when he had in fact traveled illegally to Puerto Rico as a minor. He told this lie so that he could remain with his wife and children in the United States. It was a calculated decision, based on his desire to remain with his family. His lie was discovered many years later, and he was deported. This “crime” shows up on his police record here and makes him ineligible for many employment positions. Walter is intelligent and fairly well-educated. Employers are missing out on the opportunity to hire an excellent employee by refusing him a job on the basis of his status as a deportee.
In sum, there should at least be some sort of review in the Dominican Republic that distinguishes between classes of deportees. Those who are deported for truly heinous crimes such as murder, rape and child abuse should be put into a prison release program, developed on models of programs that have been successful in other countries. Deportees convicted of heinous crimes often have spent decades in prison in the US, and will have trouble adjusting to any society.
It makes no sense to group all “criminal” deportees into one pile and offer all of them the same response: surveillance and stigmatization. It would be to the benefit of all to distinguish between deportees and help, not hinder, their reintegration into society.
December 3, 2009
Ten years after his release from prison, Dominican who lived in the US for thirty years is deported
“Jay,” a business man in his forties, is one of the few deportees I have met who has been able to achieve financial success. Jay is a remarkable man, and likely would be successful anywhere. However, that does not make his deportation fair. He was denied due process at his deportation hearing, and summarily removed, after thirty years in the US.
I met Jay in his office at the call center he co-owns on the third floor of a building in the business district of Santo Domingo. The call center consists of a row of ten computers, each equipped with headphones with built-in microphones. When I went, there were four workers seated at the computers, taking calls for a payday loan program in the United States.
Jay shares an air-conditioned office with is co-owner and partner, a Dominican woman he met here. His sister is the third partner in the business. In the Dominican Republic since 1997, Jay has worked his way up in this country. He also has had help from his parents, who have retired here, and his sister, who is financially comfortable in the US.
Jay’s family migrated to the South Bronx in the 1960s. Jay’s grandmother traveled first, then his parents, leaving Jay with his aunt. Jay was six years old when he entered the United States as a legal permanent resident in 1968. Jay did all of his schooling in the Bronx, where he made friends with his Puerto Rican and Dominican neighbors. Jay did not complete high school, but got his G.E.D. when he was nineteen.
When Jay left school, he was able to get low-paying jobs. However, he was enticed by the quick money he saw his friends making in the Bronx, selling drugs. In addition, he tried cocaine, and liked it. He decided to start selling drugs, in order to earn fast money. In 1980, Jay and his girlfriend had a son. Soon afterwards, he was arrested for coke possession. He was released, and cooled off for a bit. However, the lure of the money and of cocaine proved to be too much for him, and, eventually, he was back selling.
In 1983, Jay was arrested with 125 grams of cocaine. He was convicted of possession with intent to sell, and was sentenced to five years in prison. While in prison, he married his girlfriend and began to take college courses. When he was released in 1987, Jay found a job in retain, and soon became a manager. A couple of years later, Jay and his wife decided to relocate to Massachusetts, to start their lives over.
Jay found a job with Coca-Cola, and moved up quickly in the company. He still had trouble staying away from alcohol and drugs, and decided to go into rehab. While in rehab, Jay connected with a variety of community leaders. They recognized his ability to connect with youth and his passion for his community, and gave him a job at a community organization when he got out of rehab. Around the same time, Jay and his wife had their second son.
After many years, things were going well for Jay. He became the director of a local AIDS prevention organization, and volunteered counseling youth about drug abuse prevention. He had been clean for three years, and had found his passion. Jay loved doing community work, and was good at it.
Since Jay had been released from prison in 1987, he had been on bail from the INS, pending his immigration hearing. According to the laws in 1987, he was eligible for a hearing where the judge would look at his case, and his family and community ties in the US and the Dominican Republic. For Jay, it seemed good that his case was delayed for many years, as he was amassing lots of evidence of his rehabilitation and reincorporation into society. He continued to wait for his hearing, and was confident he would win his case. His wife and children were US citizens. He was a community leader. He had no trouble with the law since his release. He was drug and alcohol free.
In 1996, a law was passed – IIRAIRA – that limited the judicial review of certain deportation cases. Under this new law, the judge could not take any of these factors into account. Jay’s crime – narcotics possession with intent to distribute – made him automatically deportable. In 1997, ten years after his release from prison, Jay finally had his hearing, under the new laws. He was deported to the Dominican Republic, leaving his wife and two kids behind. Jay had moved from the Dominican Republic when he was six years old, and had few connections in the country.
Moreover, Jay lost his family. Once he was deported, he eventually separated from his life partner of thirty years, and was unable to watch his children grow up. Without his income, his wife struggled financially. She had to solicit help from the government to maintain the household. Without Jay’s encouragement and support, his son never went to college. Jay talked to them on the phone, but the long distance put strains on their relationship.
Jay spent the first few weeks sleeping on a very old bed in his grandmother’s house. However, he was able to use his skills, his English, and his business sense to get back on his feet. He found a job at a call center through a newspaper ad, and moved up in the company. Eventually, he set up his own business, with assistance from his sister in the US.
Jay paid for his crimes and was in the process of paying his debt to society when he was removed from all he knew and loved. Twelve years later, Jay has overcome his losses. However, the losses to his family and to his community are less easy to assess.
I met Jay in his office at the call center he co-owns on the third floor of a building in the business district of Santo Domingo. The call center consists of a row of ten computers, each equipped with headphones with built-in microphones. When I went, there were four workers seated at the computers, taking calls for a payday loan program in the United States.
Jay shares an air-conditioned office with is co-owner and partner, a Dominican woman he met here. His sister is the third partner in the business. In the Dominican Republic since 1997, Jay has worked his way up in this country. He also has had help from his parents, who have retired here, and his sister, who is financially comfortable in the US.
Jay’s family migrated to the South Bronx in the 1960s. Jay’s grandmother traveled first, then his parents, leaving Jay with his aunt. Jay was six years old when he entered the United States as a legal permanent resident in 1968. Jay did all of his schooling in the Bronx, where he made friends with his Puerto Rican and Dominican neighbors. Jay did not complete high school, but got his G.E.D. when he was nineteen.
When Jay left school, he was able to get low-paying jobs. However, he was enticed by the quick money he saw his friends making in the Bronx, selling drugs. In addition, he tried cocaine, and liked it. He decided to start selling drugs, in order to earn fast money. In 1980, Jay and his girlfriend had a son. Soon afterwards, he was arrested for coke possession. He was released, and cooled off for a bit. However, the lure of the money and of cocaine proved to be too much for him, and, eventually, he was back selling.
In 1983, Jay was arrested with 125 grams of cocaine. He was convicted of possession with intent to sell, and was sentenced to five years in prison. While in prison, he married his girlfriend and began to take college courses. When he was released in 1987, Jay found a job in retain, and soon became a manager. A couple of years later, Jay and his wife decided to relocate to Massachusetts, to start their lives over.
Jay found a job with Coca-Cola, and moved up quickly in the company. He still had trouble staying away from alcohol and drugs, and decided to go into rehab. While in rehab, Jay connected with a variety of community leaders. They recognized his ability to connect with youth and his passion for his community, and gave him a job at a community organization when he got out of rehab. Around the same time, Jay and his wife had their second son.
After many years, things were going well for Jay. He became the director of a local AIDS prevention organization, and volunteered counseling youth about drug abuse prevention. He had been clean for three years, and had found his passion. Jay loved doing community work, and was good at it.
Since Jay had been released from prison in 1987, he had been on bail from the INS, pending his immigration hearing. According to the laws in 1987, he was eligible for a hearing where the judge would look at his case, and his family and community ties in the US and the Dominican Republic. For Jay, it seemed good that his case was delayed for many years, as he was amassing lots of evidence of his rehabilitation and reincorporation into society. He continued to wait for his hearing, and was confident he would win his case. His wife and children were US citizens. He was a community leader. He had no trouble with the law since his release. He was drug and alcohol free.
In 1996, a law was passed – IIRAIRA – that limited the judicial review of certain deportation cases. Under this new law, the judge could not take any of these factors into account. Jay’s crime – narcotics possession with intent to distribute – made him automatically deportable. In 1997, ten years after his release from prison, Jay finally had his hearing, under the new laws. He was deported to the Dominican Republic, leaving his wife and two kids behind. Jay had moved from the Dominican Republic when he was six years old, and had few connections in the country.
Moreover, Jay lost his family. Once he was deported, he eventually separated from his life partner of thirty years, and was unable to watch his children grow up. Without his income, his wife struggled financially. She had to solicit help from the government to maintain the household. Without Jay’s encouragement and support, his son never went to college. Jay talked to them on the phone, but the long distance put strains on their relationship.
Jay spent the first few weeks sleeping on a very old bed in his grandmother’s house. However, he was able to use his skills, his English, and his business sense to get back on his feet. He found a job at a call center through a newspaper ad, and moved up in the company. Eventually, he set up his own business, with assistance from his sister in the US.
Jay paid for his crimes and was in the process of paying his debt to society when he was removed from all he knew and loved. Twelve years later, Jay has overcome his losses. However, the losses to his family and to his community are less easy to assess.
December 2, 2009
Deported for Tax Evasion, Dominican Leaves Wife and Two Kids in the US
I met Evan, a tall, light brown-skinned, muscular man with a pleasant demeanor, in a restaurant in the Colonial City in Santo Domingo. He agreed to tell me his story – how he ended up back in the Dominican Republic after living for thirty years in the US.
Evan moved with his family to the United States when he was 15 years old – in 1978. He entered the US as a legal permanent resident. Although he qualified for citizenship five years later, in 1983, he never got around to applying for citizenship.
Evan opted to get his G.E.D. instead of finishing high school, and got a job as a superintendent of a building in New York City soon after that. He stayed in that job for seventeen years. While he was working as a super, he met a young woman from an Indian reservation in Buffalo, who had moved to New York to attend college. They decided to get married.
In 1996, shortly after their first child was born, Evan and his wife moved to the Indian reservation where she had been raised. They figured that upstate New York would be better for their children, and his wife wanted to give back to her community. Evan got a job in a gas station, and eventually set up a business selling cigarettes online. They had another child together, and things were going very well for them.
Their online cigarette business flourished. As an American Indian living on a reservation, Evan’s wife did not have to pay taxes on her business. Evan, however, did. He failed to file taxes in 2002 and 2003. In 2004, he was arrested for tax evasion. The business was in both of their names, and he had to pay taxes on his profits.
Evan went to court, and was told that he faced five years in prison for tax evasion. He hired a lawyer, and was able to get out on bail. At the end of 2006, Evan’s lawyer was able to make a deal that allowed Evan to be deported to the Dominican Republic, and he did not have to serve time for his crime.
Evan signed a voluntary departure and was sent back to Santo Domingo. His wife was left with their two children. Fortunately, she was earning good money managing a casino, and has been financially able to care for their children.
Although Evan left the Dominican Republic when he was 15, he and his brother had purchased an apartment in the Colonial Zone while they were in the US. Evan was able to move into the apartment and rent out rooms to people, in order to have an income in Santo Domingo. In addition, he has been able to find odd jobs painting, or doing plumbing or electrical work – skills he learned while he was a super in New York City.
Evan was deported at the end of 2006, three years before our interview. He may qualify for re-entry to the United States, and his wife is currently in the process of applying for his re-entry visa. He hopes to get permission to return to the US so that he can re-unite with his family and go back to his business in Buffalo.
Evan moved with his family to the United States when he was 15 years old – in 1978. He entered the US as a legal permanent resident. Although he qualified for citizenship five years later, in 1983, he never got around to applying for citizenship.
Evan opted to get his G.E.D. instead of finishing high school, and got a job as a superintendent of a building in New York City soon after that. He stayed in that job for seventeen years. While he was working as a super, he met a young woman from an Indian reservation in Buffalo, who had moved to New York to attend college. They decided to get married.
In 1996, shortly after their first child was born, Evan and his wife moved to the Indian reservation where she had been raised. They figured that upstate New York would be better for their children, and his wife wanted to give back to her community. Evan got a job in a gas station, and eventually set up a business selling cigarettes online. They had another child together, and things were going very well for them.
Their online cigarette business flourished. As an American Indian living on a reservation, Evan’s wife did not have to pay taxes on her business. Evan, however, did. He failed to file taxes in 2002 and 2003. In 2004, he was arrested for tax evasion. The business was in both of their names, and he had to pay taxes on his profits.
Evan went to court, and was told that he faced five years in prison for tax evasion. He hired a lawyer, and was able to get out on bail. At the end of 2006, Evan’s lawyer was able to make a deal that allowed Evan to be deported to the Dominican Republic, and he did not have to serve time for his crime.
Evan signed a voluntary departure and was sent back to Santo Domingo. His wife was left with their two children. Fortunately, she was earning good money managing a casino, and has been financially able to care for their children.
Although Evan left the Dominican Republic when he was 15, he and his brother had purchased an apartment in the Colonial Zone while they were in the US. Evan was able to move into the apartment and rent out rooms to people, in order to have an income in Santo Domingo. In addition, he has been able to find odd jobs painting, or doing plumbing or electrical work – skills he learned while he was a super in New York City.
Evan was deported at the end of 2006, three years before our interview. He may qualify for re-entry to the United States, and his wife is currently in the process of applying for his re-entry visa. He hopes to get permission to return to the US so that he can re-unite with his family and go back to his business in Buffalo.
November 29, 2009
No Statute of Limitations for Immigration Crimes
I met Rene, an activist who works with deportees, at the Puerta del Conde on Saturday afternoon, and he took me to the house of a friend of his, “Walter,” in the Colonial City. This was my first interview with a deportee here in Santo Domingo.
Walter is tall, brown-skinned, in his early thirties, and has a shy smile that seems out of place on a man with such an imposing physical presence. Although he smiled a lot , the pain in his eyes was clear when he recounted to me how he had been deported from the United States, leaving his two children behind.
Walter lives with his mother, his brother, and his two sisters in a large second floor apartment in an old building in the Colonial City. The house was nicely furnished, with a new sofa and chairs in the living room, and a large wooden dining room table, covered with a lace tablecloth. Most of the other rooms in the house were bedrooms, all tidy, yet small, with just enough room for a bed in each. Walter’s sisters were mopping the floors while we were there. Walter told me that his mother had fourteen children, and he was the last.
Walter played basketball as a youth, for the school and the local teams. When he finished high school, he won a basketball scholarship to attend a private university in Santiago. He went to college for two years, and majored in business administration. However, in 1994, he decided to take his chances and leave for the United States. Two of his brothers were already there, and they promised to help him get to the US. Walter got a visa to go to Mexico, and crossed the border illegally into the US.
Shortly after arriving in the US, he met and married a US citizen, and was able to get his green card. In 1996, their first child was born, and in 2002, they had another child. Things were going well for Walter – he worked at the same hotel for five years before getting a better job at JFK Airport in New York. He and his wife divorced, and Walter won custody of the children. He left the children with a babysitter in the building he lived in when he went to work each day. Walter and his children lived in the Bronx, and his ex-wife lived close by.
Walter was involved with the local church. He especially enjoyed activities designed to help children. With his own children, they spent the weekends going out to parks or restaurants whenever they could. Walter never had any trouble with the law, and thought that he had it made in the US. He had permanent residency, two US citizen children, and a stable job.
However, in 2004, an old mistake came back to haunt him. In 1990, when Walter was 13 years old, he had taken a boat to Puerto Rico illegally. He was found in Puerto Rico, and deported back to the Dominican Republic. When Walter applied for legal permanent residency in 1998, he did not mention this previous deportation. That amounts to immigration fraud, and rendered Walter eligible for deportation on criminal grounds. Walter did not know that this investigation was possible, and was unaware that he had been discovered. This investigation took place after he was granted legal permanent residency.
In 2004, Walter was driving down the street in Manhattan, and was pulled over by the police. When he showed his license, it came up that he had an immigration warrant, and Walter was taken into custody. At the time, he had custody of his three year old daughter as well as his eight year old daughter. His wife was able to take the children back and to care for them, although she had to rely on public aid to do so.
Walter spent four years fighting his case. He spent the first two years fighting his case from inside immigration detention. Eventually, he was released, and continued to go to court to appeal the deportation order. However, even though Walter was only 13 when he entered illegally, fourteen years had passed since he had lied on immigration reforms, he had no trouble with the law, and had two US citizen children, the immigration judge ordered Walter deported. In July 2008, he was sent back to the Dominican Republic.
Walter’s case shows very clearly how immigration courts deny the right to due process and judicial review to immigrants. First of all, Walter was only 13 when he entered illegally. The fact that he was a minor does not change the nature of his “crime.” Secondly, for most other crimes, the statute of limitations would apply – he committed the immigration fraud in 1994, yet was tried in 2004. Finally, the judge could not take into consideration the fact that he has two US citizen children. None of these grounds were sufficient to reverse the deportation order.
Walter was sent back to the Dominican Republic, where he works in the parking lot his brother owns. He has applied for other positions, but has not had any luck. For many Dominicans, he is a criminal deportee, making it difficult for him to get ahead in this country.
Walter is tall, brown-skinned, in his early thirties, and has a shy smile that seems out of place on a man with such an imposing physical presence. Although he smiled a lot , the pain in his eyes was clear when he recounted to me how he had been deported from the United States, leaving his two children behind.
Walter lives with his mother, his brother, and his two sisters in a large second floor apartment in an old building in the Colonial City. The house was nicely furnished, with a new sofa and chairs in the living room, and a large wooden dining room table, covered with a lace tablecloth. Most of the other rooms in the house were bedrooms, all tidy, yet small, with just enough room for a bed in each. Walter’s sisters were mopping the floors while we were there. Walter told me that his mother had fourteen children, and he was the last.
Walter played basketball as a youth, for the school and the local teams. When he finished high school, he won a basketball scholarship to attend a private university in Santiago. He went to college for two years, and majored in business administration. However, in 1994, he decided to take his chances and leave for the United States. Two of his brothers were already there, and they promised to help him get to the US. Walter got a visa to go to Mexico, and crossed the border illegally into the US.
Shortly after arriving in the US, he met and married a US citizen, and was able to get his green card. In 1996, their first child was born, and in 2002, they had another child. Things were going well for Walter – he worked at the same hotel for five years before getting a better job at JFK Airport in New York. He and his wife divorced, and Walter won custody of the children. He left the children with a babysitter in the building he lived in when he went to work each day. Walter and his children lived in the Bronx, and his ex-wife lived close by.
Walter was involved with the local church. He especially enjoyed activities designed to help children. With his own children, they spent the weekends going out to parks or restaurants whenever they could. Walter never had any trouble with the law, and thought that he had it made in the US. He had permanent residency, two US citizen children, and a stable job.
However, in 2004, an old mistake came back to haunt him. In 1990, when Walter was 13 years old, he had taken a boat to Puerto Rico illegally. He was found in Puerto Rico, and deported back to the Dominican Republic. When Walter applied for legal permanent residency in 1998, he did not mention this previous deportation. That amounts to immigration fraud, and rendered Walter eligible for deportation on criminal grounds. Walter did not know that this investigation was possible, and was unaware that he had been discovered. This investigation took place after he was granted legal permanent residency.
In 2004, Walter was driving down the street in Manhattan, and was pulled over by the police. When he showed his license, it came up that he had an immigration warrant, and Walter was taken into custody. At the time, he had custody of his three year old daughter as well as his eight year old daughter. His wife was able to take the children back and to care for them, although she had to rely on public aid to do so.
Walter spent four years fighting his case. He spent the first two years fighting his case from inside immigration detention. Eventually, he was released, and continued to go to court to appeal the deportation order. However, even though Walter was only 13 when he entered illegally, fourteen years had passed since he had lied on immigration reforms, he had no trouble with the law, and had two US citizen children, the immigration judge ordered Walter deported. In July 2008, he was sent back to the Dominican Republic.
Walter’s case shows very clearly how immigration courts deny the right to due process and judicial review to immigrants. First of all, Walter was only 13 when he entered illegally. The fact that he was a minor does not change the nature of his “crime.” Secondly, for most other crimes, the statute of limitations would apply – he committed the immigration fraud in 1994, yet was tried in 2004. Finally, the judge could not take into consideration the fact that he has two US citizen children. None of these grounds were sufficient to reverse the deportation order.
Walter was sent back to the Dominican Republic, where he works in the parking lot his brother owns. He has applied for other positions, but has not had any luck. For many Dominicans, he is a criminal deportee, making it difficult for him to get ahead in this country.
November 25, 2009
133 Dominicans deported on criminal grounds from the US at the Central Booking Office in Santo Domingo
On Monday, I called René Vicioso, a Dominican who was deported five years ago, and who has created an organization called “Bienvenido Seas” (Welcome!) that assists deportees in reincorporating into Dominican society. René has worked closely with several other academics – some of whom I know, and was quite enthusiastic about meeting with me. We agreed to meet for lunch on Tuesday in the Zona Colonial of Santo Domingo.
When we met, René immediately began to recount to me the problems Dominican deportees face. Primary among them is the fact that Dominicans who are deported to the US on criminal grounds are often unable to find employment because of the stigma against deportees. In the Dominican Republic, you need to show your criminal record to employers in order to secure employment. Deportees are not issued this document for the first six months they are in the country. And, once they complete their six months, their record indicates that they have been deported. This is only for people who have been deported on criminal grounds. Nevertheless, as René pointed out, there is no limitation on the criminal record – the deportation shows up even years after the person has been deported. Thus, deportees face immense difficulty securing employment.
Unable to find a stable job, some deportees are creative and resourceful and find ways to make a living by working odd jobs or by providing services to tourists in the Colonial City. Others turn to drugs for solace, and others turn to crime. Still others create their own businesses or go to university to further their studies. René mentioned a lawyer and a doctor he knows that are deportees. He also mentioned a deportee who owns his own call center. There is a lot of variety, then, in deportees’ levels of success in the Dominican Republic, and it will be my task to figure out how some deportees are able to be successful, and what obstacles other deportees face.
During the course of the afternoon, René found out that a planeload of deportees was scheduled to arrive today, and offered to take me to the Central Booking Office, where people deported on criminal grounds must be processed. When deportees arrive in the Dominican Republic, they are first processed by immigration authorities. Those who were deported because of their immigration status are released at the airport. Those who were deported on criminal grounds are taken to a police station to register with the authorities.
Each deportee is fingerprinted; a photo is taken; and all of their personal data is recorded. Once this process is finished, deportees are released to a family member, who must bring a photocopy of his or her national ID card – the cedula. Deportees are only released to family members, and are not permitted to leave the police station until a family member comes for them. The official in charge ensured me that they are not being held captive, but that it is for their own safety.
Once deportees are released into society, they must report once a month to the police office in charge of deportees. At each visit, they meet with a psychologist and let them know what they have been up to. In addition, the police department makes field visits to deportees’ houses to find out how things are going. On those visits, they talk with the deportees, their family members, and the neighbors to find out how the deportee is doing. If they find that he is using drugs, they recommend a rehabilitation center. Overall, these visits are intended to ensure that deportees do not re-offend in the Dominican Republic.
Remarkably, Dominican deportees have a very low rate of recidivism. Of the 14,858 persons deported to the Dominican Republic since 2001, only 122 have been convicted of crimes in the D.R. Despite this, there is widespread belief in the D.R. that deportees are responsible for the rise in crime in the D.R. The police chief assured me that this is untrue, that, thanks to their program, deportees rarely re-offend.
At the booking office on Tuesday afternoon, the 132 men and 1 woman had been bused from ICE detention centers in the US to Louisiana, where they boarded a plane, handcuffed, that took them to the Santo Domingo Airport. After being processed through immigration, they had been bused to the Central Booking Office. They were mostly young men, although there were a couple of elderly men, and one woman. Nearly all were speaking Spanish to each other, however, I did hear one say to another in English “Don’t worry, dog, they are going to let you out of here.” The other guy was concerned because the person who had come for him was not a direct family member.
I left the police station around 8:30pm, as it was getting late, and I had to go all the way back across town. Outside the station were many concerned family members, waiting to pick up their brothers, sons, fathers, and other family members who had been deported from the US.
When we met, René immediately began to recount to me the problems Dominican deportees face. Primary among them is the fact that Dominicans who are deported to the US on criminal grounds are often unable to find employment because of the stigma against deportees. In the Dominican Republic, you need to show your criminal record to employers in order to secure employment. Deportees are not issued this document for the first six months they are in the country. And, once they complete their six months, their record indicates that they have been deported. This is only for people who have been deported on criminal grounds. Nevertheless, as René pointed out, there is no limitation on the criminal record – the deportation shows up even years after the person has been deported. Thus, deportees face immense difficulty securing employment.
Unable to find a stable job, some deportees are creative and resourceful and find ways to make a living by working odd jobs or by providing services to tourists in the Colonial City. Others turn to drugs for solace, and others turn to crime. Still others create their own businesses or go to university to further their studies. René mentioned a lawyer and a doctor he knows that are deportees. He also mentioned a deportee who owns his own call center. There is a lot of variety, then, in deportees’ levels of success in the Dominican Republic, and it will be my task to figure out how some deportees are able to be successful, and what obstacles other deportees face.
During the course of the afternoon, René found out that a planeload of deportees was scheduled to arrive today, and offered to take me to the Central Booking Office, where people deported on criminal grounds must be processed. When deportees arrive in the Dominican Republic, they are first processed by immigration authorities. Those who were deported because of their immigration status are released at the airport. Those who were deported on criminal grounds are taken to a police station to register with the authorities.
Each deportee is fingerprinted; a photo is taken; and all of their personal data is recorded. Once this process is finished, deportees are released to a family member, who must bring a photocopy of his or her national ID card – the cedula. Deportees are only released to family members, and are not permitted to leave the police station until a family member comes for them. The official in charge ensured me that they are not being held captive, but that it is for their own safety.
Once deportees are released into society, they must report once a month to the police office in charge of deportees. At each visit, they meet with a psychologist and let them know what they have been up to. In addition, the police department makes field visits to deportees’ houses to find out how things are going. On those visits, they talk with the deportees, their family members, and the neighbors to find out how the deportee is doing. If they find that he is using drugs, they recommend a rehabilitation center. Overall, these visits are intended to ensure that deportees do not re-offend in the Dominican Republic.
Remarkably, Dominican deportees have a very low rate of recidivism. Of the 14,858 persons deported to the Dominican Republic since 2001, only 122 have been convicted of crimes in the D.R. Despite this, there is widespread belief in the D.R. that deportees are responsible for the rise in crime in the D.R. The police chief assured me that this is untrue, that, thanks to their program, deportees rarely re-offend.
At the booking office on Tuesday afternoon, the 132 men and 1 woman had been bused from ICE detention centers in the US to Louisiana, where they boarded a plane, handcuffed, that took them to the Santo Domingo Airport. After being processed through immigration, they had been bused to the Central Booking Office. They were mostly young men, although there were a couple of elderly men, and one woman. Nearly all were speaking Spanish to each other, however, I did hear one say to another in English “Don’t worry, dog, they are going to let you out of here.” The other guy was concerned because the person who had come for him was not a direct family member.
I left the police station around 8:30pm, as it was getting late, and I had to go all the way back across town. Outside the station were many concerned family members, waiting to pick up their brothers, sons, fathers, and other family members who had been deported from the US.
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