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A detained immigrant’s struggle to reunite with family for the holidays

Detention Center

Lumpkin, GA

Detention Status

Released

Source

Client

When P.L. traveled to the U.S. in 2007, his heart was full of hope.

His hope turned into reality as he made a home in North Carolina, where he and his wife of 12 years had three children, all of whom are U.S. citizens. The 34-year-old worked at a chicken processor. He was happy. He would have never had the chance for such a life in Mexico.

But in July 2018, the life he had created abruptly capsized when he was pulled over for a traffic stop. P.L. was detained over 500 miles away at Stewart Detention Center in Lumpkin, Georgia, where removal proceedings began against him.

At Stewart, he yearned to be with his family, particularly as the Christmas season approached. He especially wanted to be home for his eldest son, who suffers from autism.

“It’s sad and claustrophobic in here,” P.L. said during a December interview at the immigrant prison. “I can’t see my children or my wife. I can’t take care of my family. I’m stuck in here without any freedom. It makes me sad. It’s very difficult to be away, especially right now.”

P.L. was fearful because the chance of deportation – and ultimately death – was real.

He knew that if he were to return to Mexico, the “coyotes” – the men who brought him to the U.S. – would kill him. P.L. owed them money, and they were sending him death threats while he was in North Carolina.

“When you come back one day, you are going to realize,” they told him.

He knew their wrath was deadly: After a friend who owed the coyotes money was deported to Mexico, he found they were waiting for him. His friend’s body was found in the Mexican desert.

P.L. worried about the future. He didn’t have a lawyer. He couldn’t afford one. He also knew deportation would be a death sentence. The questions swirled in his mind. What would happen to his family? What would happen to his disabled son? P.L. turned to his faith to cope. He prayed for help as he endured life in the immigrant prison.

Like many detained immigrants, P.L.’s charges were civil in nature. He was therefore not guaranteed an attorney at the government’s expense. But the Southeast Immigrant Freedom Initiative (SIFI) – a project of the SPLC that provides pro bono legal counsel to those facing deportation proceedings in the Deep South – took on P.L.’s case. Research shows that because he had access to an attorney, he was 10-and-a-half times more likely to win his case. 

However, he would have to endure a long waiting game.

‘They want to deport me’

Locked up, P.L.’s days were tedious. The day-to-day life at Stewart never changed, but he did what he could to survive. 

After eating breakfast, he and the other detainees were allowed a short time outside. It’s here where P.L. began to sing praises to God. Before long, others would join him, and the gathering grew to over 50 men, forming an impromptu choir on the lawn. Later, P.L. would pray for his release.

When morning recess was over, he got to work cleaning the bathrooms. He was paid $2 a day and worked seven days a week. The practice of paying detained immigrants to work for pennies on the hour is common with private prison operators. The SPLC filed a lawsuit earlier this year against CoreCivic Inc. – the company that owns Stewart – for threatening detained immigrants who refused such work with solitary confinement and the loss of access to basic necessities, a situation that violates federal anti-trafficking laws. 

After working all day, P.L. was lucky if the water in the dirty shower worked properly. Sometimes it spewed out scalding hot water, while other times the temperature was freezing. There was no in-between. He never felt clean.

During the evening, he slept on the bottom of a bunk bed inside of a room packed with almost 100 other men. Before closing his eyes, he prayed the “Santa Muerte” – the Spanish prayer for protection against enemies.

But it was hard to sleep. Aside from lamps being kept on at all times, P.L.’s back hurt as he lay on the tiny bed. He’d injured it during a power outage and was only given aspirin. Too frightened to complain, he endured the pain. 

“They scare me because they want to deport me,” he said of the guards. “They can manipulate the situation. They don’t like Hispanics. They treat us like animals, not like people.”

As difficult as it was being held prisoner at Stewart, he remained steadfast in his faith in God.

Answered prayers

Five months into his detention, SIFI Attorney Matt Boles had collected evidence and supporting documents to write a bond motion for P.L., which he filed with the Stewart Immigration Court in December. At the hearing, P.L. was granted bond and released two days later.

“God heard me,” he said. “He heard my prayers.”

P.L. is now back in North Carolina, where he is fighting for legal permanent residency and hoping to obtain a green card.

“We are all really happy that P.L. has been released so that he can continue to pursue his immigration case while not being detained,” said Boles. “We believe that he will be able to better prepare for his case, and we hope that he ultimately prevails in his cancellation of removal case so that he can permanently remain in the United States.”

Now that he is home, P.L. is determined to do what’s necessary for the future of his family. He also hopes that people will understand that his status as an immigrant doesn’t make him any less of a person.

“Sometimes we just want a better life for us, for our families,” he said. “We’re not criminals. I want to raise my children, take care of my wife and work hard to give my children a good education. I’m a hard worker, and I love my family. We’re people, too.”