Thursday, March 8, 2012

Lost in Legal Limbo

Today we split into four groups to visit several individuals being held in immigration detention centers in Arizona. These detainees, many of whom are seeking asylum or have only committed administrative violations of residency, are held in various prison-esque complexes across the country. Because there are so many of these detainees, and so few judges to oversee their complicated immigration proceedings, detainees can spend anywhere from several months to several years in custody awaiting a decision on their case. The remainder of this post is divided into sections with each group's thoughts on their encounters and experiences during their visits to these facilities and interactions with detainees. All names have been changed or redacted to protect the privacy and anonymity of the detainees.

Maggie, Nathan & Jenny: The three of us went to the Eloy CCA (Corrections Corporation of America) detention facility to attend a trial for a female detainee seeking political asylum based on sexual orientation. While nominally a detention center, the building eerily resembled a prison. Two tiers of barbed wire lined the chain-link fence outside the building and we had to be buzzed in for each set of doors we passed through. Once inside, we met up with two fellow activists who were also waiting to attend the trial. The six of us were led into a waiting room (a tiny holding cell with all white walls and a bench) where we met an elderly woman who had traveled all the way from LA to attend her son's trial that was also occurring today. After waiting for twenty minutes, we were ushered into the courtroom by the bailiff, who reprimanded us for not sitting down quickly enough. Inside the cramped courtroom sat a judge, the detainee, the bailiff, and a translator. The trial did not last long. Due to a procedural error, the judge had to reschedule the trial for a later date. While the judge's decision to suspend the trial was the proper legal procedure, and might ultimately help the woman win her plea, it means that she will have to spend significantly more time waiting in detention. We left the detention center feeling frustrated. Detainees lack access to computers and legal books, so collecting evidence and presenting their case before a judge is extremely difficult. Furthermore, since detainees in these facilities are not being charged with criminal offenses, they are not guaranteed access to legal aid. Fortunately, there are some non-governmental organizations (namely The Florence Project) that is able to help detainees navigate the legal proceedings. The woman whose trial we observed did not have this minimal legal assistance and it was upsetting to see her detention extended due to an avoidable procedural error. Unfortunately, such postponements are routine and many detainees in these facilities choose voluntary deportation over constant uncertainty and isolation.

Simon & Michelle: Today, we went to the Pinal County Jail (PCJ). This detention center was contracted by the U.S. Immigration Customs Enforcement (ICE). It is generally recognized that this facility is the worst detention center in Florence; it has the worst food and worst record of treatment by officers. For instance, "outdoors time" for the detainees (arguably, prisoners) consists of one hour each day in an enclosed concrete room with a single window high above their heads. In fact, the detainees end up rotating who gets time in the sun. During our interactions with the guard, we were met with unprovoked hostility. He was looking for the most minute "infractions" in order to discourage our entering. In addition to this unfortunate situation, the detainee we were scheduled to visit had unexpectedly been sent to an ICE facility nearby for a hearing. The guards were unable to give us information beyond that, which reveals how uncertain and often tumultuous life can be for the detainees. Hopefully, however, this could mean that Davi's (the detainee we were supposed to meet with) case is moving forward. Mind you, his stint in detention has lasted six years already. After realizing we couldn't meet with Davi, we contacted our group leaders, who gave us the name of another detainee we could meet with. At first, we were apprehensive. We had been in slight correspondence with Davi, whereas this person had no idea who we were or that we were coming. Since PCJ does not allow direct contact with detainees, we met with Daniel through video conference. This meant that we were sitting in front of a quasi-TV monitor with a camera, and a phone receiver. Once cued by the monitor, we were able to speak with Daniel for precisely thirty minutes (the monitor and sound cuts out immediately after the time runs out). Despite our nervousness, Daniel seemed excited to talk with people, and he seemed relieved know that he is remembered. The conversation flowed smoothly, and the thirty minutes flew by. Upon reflection, we were truly inspired by his positive outlook and pragmatic hope.

McKinley & Professor Johnson: While I expected today's visit to the detention center to be absolutely hopeless, it was almost the opposite. Professor Johnson and I visited a detainee, Felicía, who was seeking asylum based on gender identity. Though we were apprehensive beforehand about finding common ground and making conversation, the three of us chatted with ease. It turns out that speaking with a detainee is like speaking with anyone else; the assumption otherwise now seems silly. We chatted about nails and hair (girl talk!), Felicía's country of origin, what university in America is like, and the quality of life in detention. Our conversation with Felicia also turned personal at times, but for privacy purposes we can't rehash her stories here. Overall, Felicia seemed to be holding up in SPC, having formed somewhat of a community and keeping busy by acting as a hairdresser and helping new detainees adapt to the facility. Felicia was enormously appreciative of our visit, but I think we benefited from the afternoon just as much. Though it was, of course, depressing to see such a wonderful person locked up indefinitely in detention, Felicia was also incredibly inspiring.

Emma & Autumn: Today we went to the detention center in Florence, AZ to visit a detainee with Katie. Before entering the facility we had a small mishap. Katie and Rachel had told us in advance that the dress codes at the facilities were strict. We had no idea how strict they really were! Autumn wore a green shirt and a pair of black leggings, but this was not enough for the guards. After giving our passports to the check-in guard, he called Autumn back to tell her she needed to find more suitable "britches". She was forced to race back to the Florence Project in the van to find some. When Autumn arrived back at the center, Emma had already entered- she scurried into the facility in a pair of jeans borrowed from one of the Florence Project workers, who was generous enough to walk around the office in her underwear.
Once we had sorted out the britches situation, we were ready to meet the Florence detainee. A guard lead us into a small cement room where we were issued badges in exchange for our identifications. We waited alongside a family with a young daughter. An officer came to lead us to a door marked "visitation". After a short, sharp buzz sounded, we were escorted into a small, cafeteria-like room. It was here, in this brightly-lit room, where we spotted a man glancing at us expectantly. Before this encounter, we had no previous contact with this detainee aside from a brief letter he had not yet received (he will probably receive it tomorrow). We tentatively approached him and introduced ourselves. Although the conversation lasted an hour and a half, the time flew by as we discussed subjects ranging from pop culture to politics. He was a spirited man who was as eager to discuss the issues facing his home country as he was to talk about Beyonce. He was incredibly open and willing to share himself, leaving us with many insights and a lasting impression. We were sad to say goodbye, but hope to stay in contact by exchanging letters. While his life seems frustrating, he remained hopeful and expressed many wonderful plans for his future in America after detention. This experience has made us feel connected to issues of immigration on a much more personal level. It further affirmed the need to change the system that allows for the criminalization and dehumanization of people like the detainee we connected with today.

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