by BJ Mayo
“I intend to do just that, sometime today. We have her. We have to deal with her when she gets to America and follow the laws. She could possibly be heading back to Africa.”
Dr. Lynn protested. “And where in Africa do you suggest we send her back to? Benguela by the Sea? A missionary outpost that struggles to feed the group of children they have? All are children of warfare, and most do not have parents or family. Jackaleena has no family, she has no village, Captain.”
“I understand, doctor. I said she could possibly be heading back to Africa. I did not say how likely it was. I am thinking she is some kind of refugee, or maybe can be someone that applies for asylum. I simply don’t know at this point. Anyone brave enough to do what she has done and gone through what she has gone through is a trooper. I mean a trooper. But that does not change the laws. There are thousands upon thousands of folks that want to get into the United States of America. She is just one of them.”
“I understand, Captain,” said Dr. Lynn. “It just seems like we can and should come up with a plan to help her.”
“Doctor, rest assured,” said Captain McKewn, “we will try our dead level best. I hope whatever that is, is good enough. I really do. Think about this young girl on the streets of America. Can you envision that? She has to have help. She needs a home. She needs someone to feed her, clothe her. That is, if she gets to stay. She has to be given refugee status or asylum status. If all of that works out, then where does she go? Who will take a young African girl with no schooling, who speaks broken English, and is not a citizen? Answer me that, doctor.”
“Captain, I realize the road ahead is full of mystery and the unknown. I have to believe that after looking at her and talking to her, something is going on. She is absolutely convinced that her Jesus Man has a big purpose for her and she is going to find it. Perhaps we are just a means for her to find it. Somehow I feel she will find it no matter what. Even if it is in spite of us and not because of us.
“She is now moved in with her one extra dress to the nurses’ berthing. They received her like a bunch of mama hens. And you know what, it did not overwhelm her. She just acted like it was probably all part of the plan. I have never seen a young lady like her. She is something to behold. She does not act like young girls in America do at her age. She has seen too much and has nothing to her name on this earth but two dresses and two pairs of sandals, of which one is on her feet. And for goodness sake, let’s not forget her pillowcase knapsack.
“And most of all, she has that brain of hers. That poise. Just think of the unlimited possibilities surrounding that, Captain. Just think about that. We cannot allow her to be put back in Africa. We just cannot.”
Dr. Lynn left the captain’s quarters and made his way to his room. His knowledge of asylum law was limited. He just knew that when they got to the states Jackaleena would have to be brought in front of an asylum or refugee officer and probably end up in front of an immigration or asylum judge of some kind.
He was to have his evening meal with Dr. Mallord Tindell III. Dr. Mallord Tindell had a resume as long as the ship. This quiet and humble man was a highly skilled physician out of New York City, with a specialty in artificial limbs for children. He gained notoriety in the United States for finding and fitting young children with leg and arm prosthetics. His intellect was said to be past the genius level, and he did not tolerate foolery in any form. Conversations were intense and direct. There were absolutely no mind games or mental gimmicks to get him to contort to a line of thinking. He simply knew the answers before he asked the questions in nearly all cases.
Dr. Tindell listened intently over their meal as Dr. Lynn described the situation at hand. After Dr. Lynn had emphatically and nearly breathlessly told the entire story, he paused and looked at Dr. Tindell. “I do not know exactly what we are going to do, Mallord, I simply do not. I have never dealt with this before.”
Dr. Tindell sipped his strong coffee quietly for a minute or two, gazing out at one of the workers in the galley. “Hard workers, wouldn’t you say, Dr. Lynn?”
“Why yes, they sure are. But my questions.”
“Calm down, Dr. Lynn. Before I became a doctor, my first learning in college at my father’s request was to be an attorney. Well, I am an attorney. I am also a doctor. Quite a bunch of school wouldn’t you say? Yes, indeed, a lot of school. Now, what you have on your hands is this: You have a child from Africa—Angola, I think you said. She was in a missionary compound, Benguela by the Sea. She made her way to the compound after her parents and her entire village were wiped out ruthlessly by a murdering bunch who opposed the government. That bunch has apparently been dealt a final blow by their own hand, or perhaps the hand of a higher being, and are no more. However, there is and certainly will be others. That civil war over there has been going on a long time and will continue. Read up on it sometime. They maliciously kill with rifles and machetes. You have seen those body wounds yourself.
“Now, this young girl is on our ship, heading to somewhere in America. The way I see it, she enters the US as a URM. That is an Unaccompanied Refugee Minor that is not over eighteen years of age. You indicate she is around eleven or perhaps twelve years of age. The program was developed to help children that are victims of civil or economic unrest. She fits both of those. If she is sent back to this type of uncertainty, where will she go? She will have to claim this status before an asylum judge. He can either rule on the spot or perhaps let her in before he makes a judgment. She cannot say, in my opinion, that her Jesus Man has a big purpose for her in America. I do not know how well that would go over.
“Next, if she passes that hurdle, it would be good to have a place she can go. Possibly a family or facility that takes in kids no matter what. A pre-committed family is always a good thing to tell a judge, I would think. In other words, she is not going to simply become a ward of the state. She would have an actual family to go to.
“Now, if I were doing an analysis of the possibilities of how many families were out there just begging to take in a stowed-away African girl that is eleven or twelve years old, those odds are not as good as your chances of winning on a slot machine in Las Vegas two times in a row. I would rank them very low, if existent at all.
“That is how I see it.
“Build her case as a URM that is coming from a war-torn nation with no end to the current civil war that is going on. To send her back would be detrimental to her existence. She has no family alive, if what she says is true. Next, where are you going to recommend to place her? To me, that is the biggest problem you have. A judge might just allow her to stay. Where is she going to go? That is your problem. She has no family in the US, no family in Africa.
“The complexity of this problem is not something they teach you in college, Dr. Lynn. Will you take her in? Will you adopt her, feed her, provide her with an education? You said she is very smart. That is good. If she is allowed into the country, she will have to be smart to survive. If she is allowed to come in to the US on the URM program, only certain states are utilizing it. Texas, your home state, is definitely one of them. They generally do not allow adoption, as they cannot prove that the child does not have parents in a foreign land. Africa, in this case. The only thing you have to go by is the child’s account. Most likely she would be placed in a foster home until she became an adult.”
Dr. Lynn was in deep thought as Dr. Tindell gave his simple analysis of what lay before them. His mind was racing to remember potential parents that might take her in for the long term. He had to fight for a few things in his privileged life, mostly grades. But never did he have to fight for his life. Never for his very existence.
This child had no one. She just had her conviction to come to America by any means and to simply to search for her big purpose.
Other than a few Hispanic couples, most of his clientele were Caucasian. The chances that any of them would agree to accept and adopt a refugee from Angola he judged to be small, if existent at all.
Dr. Tindell
sat quietly sipping his coffee. He lowered his cup and grasped it with both hands letting the heat reach his fingers. Even though it was warm outside, the heat transfer felt good on his joints. “Ronny, I will help you any way I can, but I will warn you, this is a mountain not a molehill.”
Finally, Dr. Lynn looked him in the eyes. “Dr. Tindell, if you will represent her at the asylum court when we arrive, I cannot think of anyone better. Anyone more articulate. Would you do that? I am saying here and now, if you will agree to do that, I will get her placed with a good family. What do you say?”
“You have a family that has already agreed to do this, Ronny? I need names. I need a solid commitment. Not just words. Who are they?”
Dr. Lynn looked down. “I don’t know just yet. I have an idea, but I do not know. There is an orphanage in our town that takes in homeless and abused children. One of my patients works there. She tells me about them. Maybe she has an inside track to a family that would not be prejudiced toward her, due to her circumstances and ethnicity. There are some good people out there. If we can just get her in the door and into this place, maybe the rest will fall in place somehow.”
“Dr. Lynn, the asylum judge sees cases all day and every day. He or she will more than likely have little patience for innuendo, desire, or that maybe you can get this done. They would want a concrete, rock-solid plan, a footprint that can be validated by the never-ending social programs and bureaucrats that run them.
“It is minutely possible that if you, a physician, agreed to ‘sponsor’ this child’s plan, which would ultimately be to place her with adoptive parents, the judge might allow it. And that is a big ‘might.’ If you stepped off and did this, you would be signing up for endless paperwork and headache that might turn out to be a puff of wind. No parents and you on the hook for her well-being. Do you understand that? When we go to the judge, you have to have a plan laid out in writing to present then and there. This child may be asked to say something to the judge. She cannot just stare at him in bewilderment. It is helpful that she has high intellect and speaks broken English. That is beneficial, but it by no means guarantees anything. This will be like a miniature courtroom, if you will, and you are not an attorney. I am.”
Dr. Tindell sipped his coffee and looked at the horizon for a few minutes, saying nothing, just thinking.
“Dr. Lynn, I will do it. I will do it under the circumstances I just laid out. A rock-solid, written plan before we hit the US shore. Nothing short of that.”
Dr. Lynn jumped up and ran around the table, grabbing Dr. Tindell from behind with a great bear hug. “You are a very good man, Mallord. A very good man.”
Dr. Mallord carefully managed not to spill his coffee. Often devoid of any type of emotion, he smiled. “You can let me go, now.” Dr. Lynn looked around. There were a few folks close by, but no one seemed to notice.
“Ronny, we will give this our best shot and hope we come out victorious for your girl. It is written all over your face that you want to do it. After all of the human effort we put in trying to help those that cannot help themselves, do you think we do it to feel better about ourselves or because of our Hippocratic oath? I think it is probably both, wouldn’t you say?”
“Get some rest and type me that document. I want to make sure it is your best work.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Judge Brover D. Linquist sat on the US asylum court in the port of New York City. Endless lines of people for endless days, all wanting to get into the United States of America. The land of milk and honey. The place where everyone has a job that wants one. Everyone loves one another and treats each other with respect. Just sailing by the Statue of Liberty gives inspiration to the never-ending chain of ocean crossers.
What he lacked in fundamental compassion he made up for in sharp crassness. Overweight from days of sitting with little exercise, pleurisy, and having just found out he did not get an appointment to 9th Circuit of Appeals he was counting on, his patience was running thinner than on most days. He had campaigned for the open position, one of the most sought-after in the land, other than being a Supreme Court justice. But now, he was stuck for anyone’s guess as to how long he would be in this never-ending circle of people. They all started to look the same. All tired from the journey. All hopeful of their outcomes. All clutching whatever they had. All hoping for an edge, a squeak to open a door. A chance to try and improve on their awful existences in some foreign land. Why do they think they deserve to be in the United States? he often wondered. Why in the world would you make the journey over land or sea to get here? What makes you think we have to take you?
When the Mercy Ship reached port, Dr. Tindell and Dr. Lynn had spent the previous two hours with Jackaleena. She had been coddled by the nurses onboard to the extreme. They clipped and manicured her toenails and fingernails, gave her a facial, and generally hovered over her for the nine days she berthed with them. They took daily strolls on the upper deck, with each taking turns holding her hands and walking. They tried to get her to eat, as they did at every meal. Jackaleena only took out what she could eat. They noticed that she broke off a piece of her biscuit every morning and rolled it into a napkin. “Poor child, probably saving it for later,” one said.
She probably was not getting enough to eat. But still, Jackaleena only took out what she would eat and never said what the biscuit was for. She would pray quietly every evening as she unrolled her biscuit piece. “Jesus Man, this is Jackaleena. I pray for chickens and give my one finger’s biscuit to the chickens. You answered my prayer and gave us roosters. I am giving this to the fish in the water every day. I pray to ask you to help me find my big purpose.” During the walks with the nurses, she would ask to look over the side while holding the handrail. When they were not looking, she would cast her biscuit piece to the sea.
Dr. Lynn and Dr. Tindell did not really coach Jackaleena on what to say, to a great extent. Dr. Tindell told her to look the judge in the eyes at all times, and to speak when spoken to, not before. He would do most of the talking.
Once their luggage was taken off the ship, they each held Jackaleena’s hands as they approached Customs. Past Customs, both could see the asylum court area with an increasingly long line. There were probably thirty people standing outside the doors.
“Well, Ronny, there it is. Good to go?”
“Yes, sir, I am good to go,” he said.
The folks checking passports and visas were moderately surprised to see two physicians with a young black girl in tow.
“Passport, please,” one said as Jackaleena came through.
Dr. Tindell replied immediately. “Sir, she is with Dr. Lynn and myself. Physicians on the Mercy Ship just returning from Africa.”
“Is she here for medical attention, doctor?”
“No, sir, she is here to apply for asylum. She has no living family and is in our care.”
“Sir, you will immediately report to the asylum officer of the court. Take her to the uniformed officer there by the court, and he will take it from there. Best of luck, sir.”
Jackaleena never said a word during the three-hour wait to appear before the Judge. She had to be escorted to the restroom by Dr. Lynn, standing outside while Dr. Tindell held her place in line.
Judge Linquist studied them over his glasses as they walked the short distance from the entry doors to his bench: two Caucasian men holding hands with a young black girl. This should be very interesting, he reasoned. I thought I had seen everything.
“State your names, please,” he said.
“I am Dr. Tindell, and this is Dr. Lynn.”
“What is your business today, sirs?”
Dr. Tindell carefully removed the hand-typed letter out of his lapel pocket. He looked at Dr. Lynn and Jackaleena before handing it to the judge.
“This will state our case, sir.”
Judge Linquist opened the letter, looking over his glasses at Dr. Tindell. The only part of his position that he liked was having nearly this supernatural power o
ver people standing below him. They could do nothing without his approval.
He read slowly and intently. Finally, after about ten minutes, he laid the letter down, carefully smoothing out the folded seams with his index finger.
“Who wrote this?” he asked.
Dr. Lynn looked up at him, never releasing his grip on Jackaleena’s hand.
“I did, sir,” he said. “I wrote it.”
Judge Linquist looked hard at him. “Does she speak?” he said.
“Yes, sir, she speaks broken English, but she does speak.”
“What happened to your parents?” asked the judge, looking at Jackaleena.
Slowly and intently she looked into the judge’s eyes. “The boy soldiers and their leader, Mingas, kill them. They cut off the men’s heads and put them on posts at our communal fire. They kill the women. There is no one left but me. I go to Benguela by the Sea and they take care of me. The big white boat with red cross come to help the children. I get on the little boat that they take up to the big boat to come to Amerika. The women that take care of me are from Amerika.”
The Judge looked at her intently. “Are you afraid to go back?”
Jackaleena looked at him carefully before answering. “If I go back, I have no peoples. I have no home. My village is no more. Benguela by the Sea take in children of war. They have not much to feed. There will be other attacks on Benguela by the Sea. Just like when I was there. The soldier boys attack us.”
“So, Doctor Lynn, you are saying that this young lady is wanting to come in under the URM program, which Texas participates in. The church-affiliated operations, of which there are two, place these children normally in a foster home surrounded by a great many rules. You are saying in this letter, if I read it correctly, that you will provide ‘guardianship’ over this child until she is permanently adopted, and if not, you are liable for her and all that that means until she reaches the age of eighteen? Is that what you are saying?”
