Fusion
By Rafa Fernandez De Castro
October 7, 2015
Milton
orders a coke and fries at Wendy’s. His spiky, gelled hair and
soft-spoken manner make him seem younger than 21; he doesn’t seem to
have aged as fast as you’d expect
for someone who has been through hell.
After
a harrowing trip through Guatemala and Mexico five years ago, Milton
got picked up by U.S. immigration while crossing the Texas desert. He
was only 16. His asylum
request, based on allegations that he was escaping domestic abuse in El
Salvador, wasn’t enough to convince U.S. authorities to give him a
visa.
As
he was considering his options to avoid deportation, he got jumped by a
group of thugs who ganked his cellphone. At the time, it seemed like
life dealing him another
hard knock. But strangely enough, getting beat up turned out to be a
blessing in disguise.
That’s
because it allowed his pro-bono immigration lawyer, Javier Montano, to
file for a “U visa,” a special immigration benefit reserved for victims
of violence. According
to Homeland Security the U visa “can be sought by victims of certain
crimes who are currently assisting or have previously assisted law
enforcement in the investigation or prosecution of a crime, or who are
likely to be helpful in the investigation or prosecution
of criminal activity.”
The
visa was created in 2000 with the Victims of Trafficking and Violence
Protection Act. The government finally regulated the visa and started
issuing them in 2008. For
2015, U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services approved a maximum of
10,000 petitions for the U visa. Victims of abusive sexual contact,
incest, kidnapping, murder, slave trade and witness tampering—among
several other forms of violence—qualify to apply for
the visa, which the U.S. government promotes under such slogans as
“Don’t be afraid to ask for help.”
The
U.S. instituted the visa—in part—as an attempt to prevent the silent
abuse suffered by many undocumented migrants. “People were and still are
afraid of reporting crimes
because they believe the cops will look into their immigration status,”
said Montano, Milton’s lawyer.
He
says his client’s beating “wasn’t as ruthless as other U visa cases” he
witnessed. “But it appears to have provided Milton an avenue to stay in
this country.” Milton
may have lost his cellphone, but now he has the paperwork he needs to
work here legally, apply for U.S. citizenship and aspire to a higher
education.
“I
want to go to college but can’t afford it right now,” he says. “But I’m
conscious of how important it is in this country to have a degree.”
The journey to El Norte
This
bureaucratic ordeal of applying for a visa can be long and difficult.
In February the L.A. Times reported that U visa petitions are on the
rise and exceed the government
cap every year. Congress failed to pass a Senate proposal to increase
the cap to 15,000 last year. “There’s even a wait to get on the waiting
list,” according to the report. Critics of the U visa claim the program
is “ripe for fraud.”
But for Milton, the U visa was a light at the end of the tunnel.
His
journey started five years ago when his family paid a coyote some
$7,000 to sneak him across Guatemala and Mexico to the U.S. border. “I
was a kid seeking prosperity,”
he says.
The
coyote was expensive, but necessary. Without a human smuggler as your
guide, Milton says, you’re likely to end up kidnapped by The Zetas, one
of Mexico’s most brutal
drug cartels. The coyotes have all the conectes, an established network
of corrupt cops and gangs to bribe along the way. But there are never
any guarantees of safe passage.
By
the time Milton made it to Mexico, he had lost all contact with his
family in El Salvador. But he later learned the coyote was in constant
contact with his parents,
asking for more money to “guarantee” their son’s continued safety on
the journey north. “My mother later told me they threatened to leave me
stranded or hand me over to the authorities,” Milton said. The
additional security fees cost his family $3,000.
They
eventually made it across the border into the Texas desert, where the
coyote suddenly abandoned Milton’s group in the middle of the night. “We
started hearing motorcycles
and a helicopter in the morning,” Milton says. The group scattered and
Milton tried to hide behind a bush but was discovered by an immigration
officer on horseback who ordered him to come out.
“When
I stood up I remember seeing the entire desert, its flatness and
dryness surrounded by mountains. Like being inside a frying pan”
- Milton
Milton
and the others were taken to a detention center in Laredo, where he was
put in separate room and given a meal once the authorities determined
he was a minor.
“They allowed me to call home, but I was afraid of telling my mom. I didn’t want to cry over the phone,” he says.
Like
other Central American minors crossing alone, Milton was sent to a
human services center in Laredo. He describes Texas and Mexico as
“heaven and hell.” Here he was
allowed to shower, remove the thorns from his body, and wait for an
immigration judge to rule on his status. Milton was eventually allowed
to stay after his aunt, who resided in Florida, vouched for him.
“Your
purpose in this country,” Milton recalls the judge telling him, “will
be to study.” But that was easier said than done. Milton’s uncle wanted
him to abandon school
to help earn money for the household. Milton demurred and was pushed
out of the house. He survived thanks to the kindness of strangers.
He
allegedly stayed in school, got a part-time gig at a plant nursery, and
lived in a trailer park with another Salvadoran man. His boss
eventually put him in touch with
his immigration lawyer.
Today,
Milton works at the bakery of a local Publix supermarket and is
thankful for the opportunity. And yes, he has a new cellphone.
For more information, go to: www.beverlyhillsimmigrationlaw.com
No comments:
Post a Comment