by H. L. Wegley
“I'm Larry Wendell, attorney for the respondent.”
“It is not required that you be here for this hearing, but I can't prevent it. Where's your EOIR 28? It's supposed to be in my files.”
“Then why didn't you give advance notice of this hearing?”
“I don't have to—local rules. But if you don't have a completed EOIR 28—”
“It's right here, Your Honor.” Larry held up a green form. “We also have an I-918.”
“An I-918? Would you like to tell the court why—let me restate that—is the form certified?”
“It will be your honor.”
“And I will consider it when it is, counselor.”
The guard took the papers and handed them to the judge.
Jeff leaned toward Allie and whispered, “Like the guard said, this guy's a bona fide jerk.”
“Shhh. He might hear you, Jeff. We've got enough trouble without making the judge mad.”
“Allie, look at him. He looks like he was born mad then weaned on a dill pickle.”
“Don’t joke about it. It’s not funny.”
Judge Lynchesky scanned the forms then tossed them on the far corner of the desk as if they were only pieces of trash. He pulled out another form and read it. “Involved with a drug cartel. Sounds like they nearly killed you all. That's the price you pay for entering the country illegally and taking part in illegal activities like growing marijuana.”
Larry stood. “But the Santiago's did not enter illegally.”
“Then perhaps you would like to show me their IDs and visas.”
“They don't have either. The cartel took their IDs, didn't give them their visas, and trafficked them, slave labor.”
“So they say.” The judge snorted. “What about Alejandra Santiago? The report says she's a student at OSU. At least you can show me her ID.”
“No, Your Honor, we cannot. When the cartel captured her, her ID was left behind in her car.”
“If Ms. Santiago’s ID isn’t provided to me during this hearing, she will be detained until I can hear her case. With the current backlog, that won’t be soon. The other three Santiago’s—perhaps all four— will be sent to the Tacoma Detention Center this afternoon, in preparation for deportation.”
Was that a slip of the tongue, or was Lynchesky including Allie as a candidate for deportation? This was getting out of hand.
Where is McCheney?
Larry jumped to his feet. “Your Honor, that’s completely uncalled for in this situation.”
“Counsel, you can be held in contempt.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Jeff whispered to Allie then he stood.
Now the judge's bony finger pointed at him. “Sit down, young man, or you will be escorted from this room.”
“But you need to hear these people's story. How they helped to stop drug operations by a Mexican drug cartel in Southern Oregon.”
“I have the report from Medford. I’ve read their story. And I won’t consider the I-918 for U Nonimmigrant Status until you file the supplement certifying it. So, I don't need to hear anything at all from you Mr.—”
“Jacobs.” Jeff had the floor. Time to stall. “Jeff Jacobs. I worked closely with the FBI SWAT team to help rescue this family from the cartel that was using them for slave labor. The cartel had even worse plans for Allie … Alejandra Santiago. I am willing to sponsor the Santiago’s.”
“A nice gesture, but it’s irrelevant to the Santiago's status as illegal immigrants … excuse me, as undocumented immigrants. No ID, no VISAs or papers of any kind. All they’ve got seems to be a potential sponsor who has no idea of the requirements for sponsorship.”
“Sir, I can house them and my income can support them, indefinitely.”
“Don’t call me sir. I am not in the military and neither are—did you say your name was Jeff Jacobs?”
“Yes, your hon—”
The judge shoved his palm at Jeff. “The court will take a fifteen-minute recess.”
Thank goodness. Maybe Jeff wouldn’t have to do anything extreme to stall for McCheney.
Everyone stood as Judge Lynchesky left the room.
But the way the judge had said Jeff’s name … an uneasy feeling tingled up his spine.
Allie looked at him with a frown and welling eyes. “What was that all about?” She wiped her eyes. “He’s already decided to deport my family, hasn’t he?”
Larry twisted in his chair and looked back at Allie. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but I think he means to deport all of you. Based on what he said, that’s the only conclusion that makes sense … if any of this makes any sense.”
“I’m a student. He can’t deport me. The man’s crazy. I’m—”
“I know, Allie.” Larry said. “This man has no business sitting behind the bench and making judgments that impact people’s lives. The Oregon Immigration Court has received bad marks for taking too long to resolve cases. Evidently, he doesn’t want to add to his backlog and he doesn’t care who he hurts to meet his goals.”
Larry turned around and thumbed through his notes.
But nothing Larry found in his notes would change things in the court room. And whatever Judge Lynchesky was cooking up now would likely make matters worse. And the recess seemed to have been called after the judge repeated Jeff’s name. That thought sent Jeff’s heart thumping to a presto beat.
Please, God, don’t let him go there.
Chapter 27
Where is McCheney?
Jeff glanced at the clock on the wall. It had been forty-five minutes since he talked to McCheney and twenty minutes since Lynchesky declared a recess. The FBI agent might be their last hope, provided he had something significant to contribute.
But this judge was a dictator and it appeared he could do whatever he chose with little or no consequences. And, if he had his way, Allie and her family would soon be stepping off a plane in Nogales. Minutes later, they would all be dead and the cartel would have its revenge.
Judge Lynchesky entered the court room and a guard gave the all-rise command. The judge carried some papers in his left hand and a smirk on his face. After he turned to sit, he locked gazes with Jeff for a moment, then glanced down at the papers.
Jeff looked down at Allie’s intense eyes and read the desperation there. Her pulse throbbed through her hand and into his fingers wrapped around it.
“Mr. Jacobs … “
Jeff’s head snapped up when the judge called out his name.
“So you want to be the sponsor for the Santiago family?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
The judge shuffled the papers in front of him. “What do you believe are the requirements for becoming an immigrant sponsor?”
Where was this going. It sounded promising, but … “Your Honor, I would have to provide for the needs of the family while they make the transition to American life. That takes an American citizen who has a sufficient income to provide their necessities.”
“Is that all, Mr. Jacobs?” Lynchesky’s wide eyes stared at Jeff like he was some kind of freak.
“Why are you asking—”
“Because you left out the most important characteristic of a sponsor. There’s more to it than just signing an I-864. As a sponsor, you are introducing immigrants to the American way of life. Sponsors should be good American citizens, model citizens … unlike Mr. Jeffrey Jacobs, a disgraced citizen, a man forbidden to represent his country.” Lynchesky stopped.
Silence filled the court room.
Allie pulled her hand from his and squinted up at him, her brown eyes filled with uncertainty. “What’s he talking about, Jeff?”
“I have the feeling he’s about to make that pretty clear.”
In an ugly sort of way.
There was nothing Jeff could do to soften the blow for Allie if Lynchesky’s revelation ran true to the man’s character. But Allie knew Jeff. She would still trust him, wouldn’t she?
The judge glanced down at a paper in his hand, then up
at Jeff. “You were a gold medal contender, representing America in the Olympics. You even held the world record for the decathlon. But after the drug testing, you were exposed as a liar and a thief. You stole a spot on the American Olympic team that should have gone to another athlete, a clean athlete.”
Lynchesky shuffled a page to the top of the papers in his hand. “You came on the Olympic scene out of nowhere, posting the best scores in the world along with some world records for decathlon events. That fact alone should have raised serious questions. Fortunately for the USA, the drug testing did. You are a doper.”
The doping accusation and the smirk on the judge’s face pulled Jeff out of his seat, ready to drive a fist through the arrogant man’s nose. But when Jeff looked at Allie, his anger morphed to shame.
Allie leaned back in her chair, widening the gap between them. She stared up at Jeff, mouth open, but silent.
“Mr. Jeffrey Jacobs …” The judge paused until Jeff looked his way. “You’re a disgraced athlete who wasn’t allowed to represent his country and you will not represent the USA to the Santiago’s.”
Just like all the times before—his college coach, the same coach again in Beijing, a professor from his alma mater during in his job search after he’d completed his master’s program—there was always someone there to stab him in the back. But not Allie. She wouldn’t.
Allie’s head tilted downward.
How much of this was she buying?
Lynchesky continued. “Besides, after what they were involved in, the Santiago’s need to be deported. So, as I have stated, I'm sending them to the Northwest Detention Center in Tacoma. All four of them. The van should be here in a few minutes.”
All four of them? How could any judge be so unjust, so cruel, so wrong? Allie was the most innocent person in the room. She didn’t deserve deportation.
He glanced her way again.
Her shoulders slumped. She stared at the floor with tear tracks on her cheeks.
This wasn’t the Allie Santiago Jeff knew. Allie was a fighter. Why had she given up, surrendering to this judge’s whim?
It had to be Jeff’s fault. He had fallen from grace in her eyes and that must have broken her spirit … and probably her heart.
Lynchesky’s knife burned like white hot steel in Jeff’s back. Stabbed again and he was about to lose a lot more than a spot on the Olympic team. He looked at Allie crying softly.
This time, I’m going to lose everything.
With the situation in the court room spiraling out of control, somebody needed to put on the brakes. Even if he lost Allie’s trust and her love, he couldn’t just let them take her away. Jeff looked at her family.
Benjamin’s wide brown eyes stared back at him, pleading for help.
It couldn’t have been worse even if the judge’s accusations were true. Then again … what was truth? It seemed that it was only what people in power wanted it to be? If they took Allie away now, Lynchesky’s words might as well be true.
Had God deserted all of them? God may have reasons to desert Jeff, but not Allie and her family. Wasn’t there help anywhere?
Jeff looked at Larry and opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he noticed the change in Larry’s eyes. They blazed with a fire Jeff hadn’t seen before.
Please, God. Don’t let it go down like this. You’ve got to give us something.
Larry stood and glared at Judge Lynchesky. “Your Honor, would you mind telling me where you plan to deport this family?”
“Mexico, of course.”
“Look in Mexico's new ID database or in CURP. You won't find the Santiago's there. So I repeat my question. Where do you plan to deport Rafael Santiago and his family?”
The judge cleared his throat, but didn’t’ reply.
Larry continued. “You can't deport them. You know that. Because, at this point, they're stateless. You need to let them out on bond, have them report in until we can establish their identities. It's a very simple solution.”
Jeff didn’t fully understand Larry’s legal point, but maybe the database snafu was a blessing in disguise.
Judge Lynchesky glared back at Larry. “I don't need an uninvited counselor telling me my job. But, if you wish to play that game … guard, escort them to the holding room until the van arrives.”
Larry turned toward Allie’s father. “Rafael, he can't deport you. And he knows it. When he finds it, the same evidence that says you’re from Mexico will give us the basis for asylum in the U.S.”
Rafael returned Larry’s gaze with laser-like intensity. “Will Allie and Benjamin be safe in this place called Tacoma?”
“Papa, we're not safe anywhere.” Allie’s voice grew angry and loud. “We never will be safe. Can't you see that?”
“There will be order in my court, Ms. Santiago. Guard, escort them out, now.”
“Mr. Santiago, let's go.” The big guard gestured toward the door leading to the hallway.
Jeff hooked Allie’s arm as she tried to step by him. “Allie, I need to talk to you.”
“It's too late, Jeff. Even if we—it's just too late.” She shook her head and wiped her eyes.
A guard opened the courtroom door. “Your Honor, the van just arrived.”
Three more armed guards stood behind the man at the door.
“Very well. Put the Santiago’s on it.”
Allie turned to follow her father, then stopped and looked up at Jeff. “After what we heard, I don't know what to say. So I’ll just say goodbye, Jeff.” She turned away from him, not waiting for his reply.
“Allie…” Jeff turned to follow her.
“I'm sorry Mr. Jacobs.” The guard shoved a big, meaty hand at him. “It’s our policy. I can’t let you go and possibly interfere with loading them on the van.”
Jeff stopped and, with blurry vision, watched the only woman he’d ever loved leave the courtroom, leave his life. He hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t told her—no, he didn’t have the right to tell her the things in his heart. To her, he was a failed protector and a failure as a man.
He watched, but she didn’t even look back.
The door to the court room closed.
Allie was gone.
This time there was no deceptive note. The reality was clear. It was over between them and Allie would likely die in Mexico with her family after experiencing the horrors that threatened beautiful women in detention centers.
The room went silent except for the soft ruffling of papers on the judge’s desk and in Larry’s hands.
But Jeff’s mind was anything but silent. Crazy thoughts screamed for him to commit crazy actions, any of which would get him arrested or shot.
Larry closed his briefcase, then placed a hand on Jeff's shoulder. “I don’t think he can deport them, Jeff. And Lynchesky is just a miserable excuse for a man who's trying to make everyone around him as miserable as he is. Don't worry, I'll get them out … somehow.”
“Get them out? Larry, we can’t let them go in. Do you know how many immigrants in detention were sexually abused last year? Two-hundred and sixteen thousand. I read that when we researched the Santiago’s situation. A woman like Allie will never be safe in a place like that.”
The door of the court room clicked open then slammed shut.
Rapid footsteps echoed through the room.
Jeff's head snapped around toward the sounds.
McCheney.
Chapter 28
As McCheney walked down the center of the room toward the judge's bench, it seemed that someone had lit a fuse certain to end with an explosion. But would it be a firecracker or demolition charges? From the expression on McCheney’s face, Jeff couldn’t tell.
Jeff grabbed McCheney’s arm as he drew near. “He’s sending them to Tacoma for deportation.”
The big FBI agent’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Maybe, maybe not.”
What was that supposed to mean?
McCheney walked on and stopped in front of the judge’s bench.
“To what do
I owe the displeasure of having you in my courtroom, Special Agent McCheney? And please note, you were not given permission to approach the bench.”
“You're right about one thing, judge. It is at your displeasure. First, here’s my certification of the Santiago’s I-918. Check it out, judge. Then you and I need to have a little chat.”
“You're out of order McCheney. I'll have you taken—”
“No, you won't. You'll meet with me in that little room behind you or I'm making a phone call right now. You know, about that little matter of …” McCheney leaned forward and spoke softly to Lynchesky.
The judge winced at McCheney's words. “You need to leave my courtroom, now. Guard.”
The guard took a step toward McCheney.
The big FBI agent stared the guard down.
The guard stopped.
McCheney pulled out his cell and started dialing.
“You cannot use a cell phone in my court room.” The judge’s voice turned to a raspy growl and he pointed a long, bony finger at McCheney.
McCheney paused, staring at the judge, with McCheney’s own threatening finger hovering over the touchpad of his cell phone.
Lynchesky waved his hand. “All right. If it will get you off my back and out of my courtroom, you and I will meet in my chambers.”
The judge had agreed but the expression on his face was anything by agreeable. Lynchesky had obviously made up his mind about the Santiago’s before the hearing in the court room even began.
What could McCheney possibly do to change the cruel decision of such an arrogant, cruel man? Even if McCheney was successful, there was nothing Jeff could do to repair the damage done to his relationship with Allie.
The judge disappeared through the door at the front of the room. Before McCheney walked through it, he stopped and turned toward Jeff. “She’s in the holding room, Jacobs.”
So Allie hadn’t left in the van? Even if she was in the holding room, Lynchesky’s assassination of Jeff’s character, and the role it played in getting her and her family sentenced to deportation, made it unlikely she would even listen to his side of the story. And trying to tell his side of the story might make matters worse.
