Date: Mon, 28 Sep 2009 11:41:44 -0700
From: EMAIL WITHHELD
Subject: Re. My story: Not enough prosecution…….
To: josieg6
Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”
My children are born in the USA. All they knew before being deported ever so zealously from ICE was the American way of living. My oldest son was an excellent second grader and my youngest a kindergartener. They were living a happy life in America until forced out into a world of doom, despair and uncertainty.
THE ARREST
-For six hours I was almost out of air with hands cuffed back sitting in the pitch black darkness at the back seat of a locked ICE SUV(I still got the scars in my wrists),worried sick about the condition of my wife who was held in a different car. I spent a day and a half in a holding cell full of human hair and feces no shoes on, my feet sticking on the dried urine on the floor at the Dearborn Police Station and after a total loss of human dignity, after being transported handcuffed and shackled like the most wanted of criminals, after the prison check-in (getting totally undressed, bending over and coughing while bent so that a guard can look in your rectum and determine if there’s something hidden in there),after the initial orientation where I learned that I might get an incurable deadly contagious disease while in prison I was thrown into a world of hate, total degradation, injustice, abuse, constant hunger and insults.
THE IMPRISONMENT-CALHOUN COUNTY CORRECTIONAL CENTER MICHIGAN
– One of the toilets is back flowing continuously and the bathroom floor has sewer water for days. We walk on it and there’s no way of washing our feet. Plumbers show up one day but soon after the toilets are back flowing again. The water from the water fountain tastes rusty and warm and there is a foul smell coming from the drinking fountain drain.
It also backflows when the toilets flush.
– I was not given new underwear and was not allowed to keep mine ‘cause it was not all white so for two weeks all I had on me was the orange jail issued uniform which after I washed at the bathroom sink I dried on my body heat. Only after I bought underwear and socks from commissary (two weeks after) I was able to send my orange uniform to the jail laundry and it came back smelling worse and with unrecognizable stains and smell so I washed my underwear, my towels and uniform by hand during all my stay in jail for fear of contagious infection and disease.
– Every day inmates wake up with blood and snot in their noses, and sores. The air vents in the cells are very dirty. Dust is blown around, with particles clearly visible. There are two ten foot brown stains on the ceiling corresponding to the two air ducts on the upper part of the wall. There is asbestos on the cell. The dirty air is making everyone sick. The temperature of the holding pod is extremely low for weeks on end. Most of the inmates are staying in the corners and lying in their beds covered head to toe and wearing all of the issued clothing which is far from enough to keep warm. One night I was hit with the flashlight from a guard during head-count because I was covered head to toe with my thin blanked. I was so cold shaking with high fever and on terrible pain. A large blister has developed on my upper lip and nose as I had high fever for ten days. I complained to the guards about the air temperature and was sent to segregation for 24 hours.
– Inmates are given different types of cleaning solutions as well as bleach to refill the spray bottles used for cleaning the dayrooms and the cells. The bottles of chemicals listed as ‘Henry Cabay and Sons, IL’ clearly state ‘if the contents come into contact with your skin, wash with cold water for 20 minutes and call the poison control center’. No gloves were given to inmates.
– Detainees are brought straight from the airport and put into the general population with no quarantine. Medical testing is done after the fact, several days later, or not done at all. Some people have large reactions, nothing is done. My first physical happened ten days after my arrest and although I complained of strong pain in my body and continuous headaches nothing is done. I had lost 16 lb on ten days. I barely slept because of stress. Suicide was constantly on my mind. I was diagnosed with a severe form of PTSD in 2001 and during medical I requested anti-stress medicine. None was given.
– The food trays are extremely dirty; my orange colored plastic spoon/fork has so many black scratches, bite marks and stubborn filth one would think it was used to dig in the ground. The food is unrecognizable, malnutritive and full of impotence drugs Everybody has constant hunger, diarrhea is rampant and I am still covered in an unknown lumpy rash from my neck down my throat, back, chest, and arms. Commissary food is lowest quality pepperoni, candy and popcorn some of it expired. The guards would sometime show to our pod’s door chewing on big chunks of fried chicken and poke fun at what might have been the look of poor, starving skeletons drooling at the sight of real food.
– I had developed a rash on my throat, neck, shoulders, back, chest, lumps with white pus-filled heads, bursting, white spots on my skin front and back. I had regularly seen a Doctor before my arrest and detainment; I had none of these medical problems. Even at present time I am still covered in these lumps and white spots with new ones coming up.
- At Orientation the first day at Calhoun County Correctional Center all detainees are informed of deadly, incurable and contagious diseases that exist on this facility’s population and all one can do is just hope and pray that does not get infected.
-Abuse is constant: a detainee was kicked several times by a guard for failing to stand up (he has a long history of kidney stones and at the moment and was laying on the floor in acute pain).Being the only literate and fluent English and Spanish speaker on a group of 40 detainees I was warned by a guard to “be careful and not try to be a hero” for helping others to fill out court paperwork and translations. When I still helped other detainees I was targeted by the guards. .Mr.Burraj was verbally and physically threatened by the deportation officer when he did not sign the deportation papers. One inmate went on hunger strike to protest the horrible conditions and was dragged way from the guards to the “hole”. A few days later he was found unresponsive in a solitary cell. The Guards used divide and conquer manners (having a group of usually two” privileged detainees” which did the necessary dirty work including starting fights or harm other targeted inmates).There was a strip search and we were woken in the middle of the night and made to undress and line up on the wall with the guards yelling at us. For long minutes we stood naked on the freezing temperatures while the guards were having fun commenting on our genitals. From other immigrants that have been there a long time I hear stories of a detainee’s death early in ’08.The guards yell constantly and their sentences to us usually and with “f***ing immigrants” and other insults. Our lives are at the mercy of the guards’ mood.
–Never saw the Law Library or the Gym (if there was any) and our recreation time never exceeded 45 minutes a day with the exception of one day when the guard completely forgot and left us locked out for almost three hours. There was no posting of detainee rights anywhere in the holding pod and no legal advice. Three of the detainees that I filled paperwork for had a claim to citizenship yet were deported. Many others had the right to file for asylum and fight their case in Court but were told to pick the fast deportation option so that they would be on their way home soon. Another detainee has spent over 60 days in jail because he did not have the $180 application fee and his hearing kept being postponed.
-My mail was read continuously and from 30 or more letters that I sent out only two were actually received. A few envelopes that make it thru to me are open.
THE DEPORTATION-
I was arrested a very decent, well dressed young men and when I was escorted to the airport I looked like a starved zombie fresh out of the grave. We were a party of seven people flying out of the States of which four were US citizens (two escorting ICE officers and both my kids) all expenses kindly taken care of from ICE. In Budapest I was handed a ten year ban of return and told to sign it.
THE RESULT
I came to America convinced that I was persecuted and looking for freedom. My political asylum claim was also motivated in no small part from my first immigration attorney and my then ignorance of the English Language and therefore the Immigration Law. After a long legal battle and well over $35 000 in legal fees, my asylum case was denied for “not having enough prosecution” the real reason being incompetent counsel (my attorney did not even communicate me the date of the hearing of my appeal in the Seventh Circuit Court so I was not present on the most important Court hearing of my family’s life. I was totally in the dark of the outcome and only learned about it and just after a routine call to her four months after the fact when any possibility of appeal or motion to reopen was inexistent).I hired a different attorney to attempt a Motion to Reopen (Ineffective Counsel being the reason) My attorney could not even get a copy of my case from the BCIS although he filed under the FOIA. (In aunt Zeituni’s case the Service was much more cooperative). So the unfortunate folks that go through the abyss of the asylum process which are by far the most prosecuted, mistreated and forthcoming part of the whole undocumented immigrant population totally exhausted mentally, emotionally and financially are the primary target for deportation and subjected to yet another nightmarish ordeal.
I loved America, I still do and I always will. I would fight for America given the chance. I tried to enlist in the Army in late 2001 but I was turned away because of my immigration status. But love for my children’s country which I consider my own and which I contributed for 10 years of my life does not convert to any form of relief.
At the end, after considering what I went through in America’s Jails without ever being accused of any wrongdoing, no criminal record, not even having a parking ticket while paying all my taxes (I still pay although deported), after enduring sheer madness (I will never be able to erase the painful images off my mind and the marks and lumps off my body) I can definitely state that I totally agree with the Immigration Judge in his thoughtful decision regarding my asylum case:
I really did not have enough prosecution!
Ms.Gates please let me know what you think and whom should I send it to. I would really appreciate any comments or ideas. Best regards E.E.
P.S I could not remember the guard’s names; I was in so much stress and despair.
Josie Gates – this was sentto me by E.E. who wishes to come home with his children.It is his words. The similarities to my confinement, exposure to chemicals and treatment by ICE are remarkable.
A HUMAN RIGHTS VIOLATION CLAIM
Dear Human Rights advisor! (Or To whom it may concern!)
My name is Halit Methasani. I was born on Aug. 24 1962 in Albania. In 1990, while the political turmoil engulfed Albania, I escaped to then-Yugoslavia and sought political asylum through UNHCR there. That was granted by United States. So, I arrived as a political refugee there (in U.S.) on march 1991. My status as a refugee to that of Legal Permanent Resident was adjusted on October 1992. While the status was not adjusted yet I was convicted for retail fraud for stealing a pack of cigarettes worth then of $1.75. For this I was sentenced with 5 days work-release program and $150.00 court costs. I had plenty of evidence to my defense but I was not offered an interpreter in the language I then understood (Albanian). Thus, I signed legal papers by waiving my constitutional rights, and ignorant, also that later on, in 2003 during the Bush Administration, the Congress passed a law, AEDPA that amended the IIRIRA law of 1997 and had retroactive power. This, however, did not affect my status adjustment to that of LPR. (Legal Permanent Resident)
It wasn’t until June 30th 2009 when I got arrested by ICE officers. There was an arrest (it is reffered to as NTA=Notice to appear) order issued on April 6th of the same year. Nobody tried to contact me between those dates. As I am trying to shorten this story, it’s getting difficult because I can’t even point out which part of this story is clearer of Human Rights violation. The arresting officers went first at my residence address and contacted my wife and pretended there was a problem with my car parked at wrong side of the road, so as to not alarm her of the real reason. They told me the same thing on the phone. I waited for them to clarify the “wrong parked car” As they came and arrested me in front of my restaurant. Luckily there was a friend of mine (Lorenzo Zamperla) that went to my house to tell what happened with me. What ensued after this, for me is a terrible story. I was processed at Immigration and Costumes detention center and taken to another detention center that State of Michigan was renting out to Federal Gov’t to hold immigrants like me. However, it was mixed with general, criminal detainees. After a week or so held there, I was transferred to another facility farther away from home. Mind you, that I have three minors 7, 9 and 14 y. o. children and an 18 year old one that was about to start college. They and my wife are terrified by this incident. Nobody explained to them what‘s happening with me. The restaurant we own and the house we so much need to take care of, are left at mercy of God. My wife is still undergoing a terrible mental condition because of all of this. As I got transferred to Battle Creek Correctional Facility the medical staff found out I had way above normal blood pressure, 196 over 130. I was given some kind of medicine that for a whole month did not have any effect in lowering my high blood pressure. On top of this I experienced something very unusual. There was blood on stool and from my penis. Alarmed as I got, I “kited” (a form of communicating with the staff) the medical staff. (all of this is documented). The doctor told me that these are sure signs of prostate cancer. One can imagine what state of mind I went (and still am) through. How could I tell my family what’s going on?! The meds told me that they need to collect a sample for analysis. They collected the blood and urine sample but not the semen sample. They said that it had to be witnessed by a male deputy on duty and a male nurse. For a whole week I was promised for the next day. This never took place. At this point I spoke with a deputy that I was going to call the Homeland Security helpline posted there to report suspected abuse by staff. He (John Carroll, the deputy) suggested I speak to the liaison officer John Jolsen. This officer coordinates relationship between ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) and detention (correction) facility for the deportees. (A nice word is used now for deportation: removal. However, dictionary has to be edited for this new word, something like “removees”). And, thus, this liaison officer comes to the POD where I was and asked to speak with me. The dialogue went something like this:
J.J. Do you have health insurance?
I- I did before my arrest but it might have been cancelled by now.
JJ-That’s what we don’t have here in jail. ICE has group health insurance, so go and speak with the deportation officer and explain to him what’s going on.
I: But I am sick. The doctor said you have signs of prostate cancer
JJ: It’s not like we’re neglecting you or anything like that but we do not have the means of treating you here. I: Ok, officer. So, I went to the deport officer, (later on I learned that he\is name was Ken Alvedy and was head of the deport officers team. Quite a few of them.) I explained to him what’s going on with my health and that the medical staff is not collecting the sample for test from me. And that I was scared for my life. He took notes of my story and asked to speak with J.J. that was a few feet away. J.J used a coded phrase:” Just use on of my perks”. Later on I realized that “perks” were flight miles that airlines use as promotions for frequent fliers. All three of us John Jolsen and Ken Alvedy and I went to different location in jail and seemed we had an understanding that within that week, either on Thursday or Friday they were going to take me somewhere outside to a hospital where I would get treated. I reiterated that I was getting worse by day and that it was scary to see blood coming out of my male organ. I was under the impression that at least, I was being taken out for treatment. Those days came and passed. Nothing happened. I asked JJ on that Friday, what’s going on. He said that the deport officer is very busy upfront with others. I sensed that something against me is cooking. I had not told yet my family about my health situation as I did not want them to panic any more. But I had no other way to contact my lawyer. So, I asked my daughter to call the lawyer and let her know there is a medical concern with me. My lawyer Maia Storm came the next day and I explained to her my situation. To me it was clear I was being neglected medical care. I asked her to help0 me with this. She said she will talk to JJ about it. Remember that this lawyer had been recommended by my case’s Immigration Judge, Elisabeth A. Hacker. It is this Hacker that turned down the motion to reopen on ineffective assistance and misinterpretation of the law basis. I provided proof that had been inspected by Immigration and Customs officers in 2001 that was well over seven years without any crimes committed before I was placed on removal proceeding.
I had prepared the application for Cancellation of Removal (a form of relief this lawyer had asked the judge for me). So, I gave it to her and told her to see my daughter to collect the retention and filing fee from her. And that’s what happened. On Monday, JJ called me flatly said: Listen, what are you trying to do, patch a lawsuit against us? You don’t have cancer. He’s looking at his computer screen and reading Google search results on prostate cancer. I know-he said- what you do there, worried too much. I said: What am I supposed to do, enjoy my time while my family is terrified by my arrest? The doctor said: These are signs of prostate cancer. It’s scary. Just go back to your cell. You don’t have cancer!-He said.
I had court day on Thursday of that week. The lawyer had taken the money from my family. J.J. came to the courtroom and said: Maia called in sick. The Judge said that my lawyer hadn’t even filed any paperwork on me and adjourned for a week later, on Sept 3-rd 2009. Maia Storm came and still had not filed the Cancellation of Removal application. When I asked her why not, she said: Shut-up, you’re trying to manipulate, there’s nothing to prepare. You are statutorily removable! And thus, she asked the Judge that since my crimes were so old and I had a family and had business and own a home, I qualify for voluntary departure. It’s considered a relief. So the Judge “granted” it. When she left the courtroom she was asked by a lawyer what happened with my case and she rubbed her hands expressing happiness that “he’s done” I decided to fight the case. Hired a new lawyer. The liaison officer J.J deceitfully asked me if I had somebody helping me fight the case. When I asked him to fax some papers to my lawyer he angrily replied that he’s not there to help me and that way I was ruining my lawyer’s reputation around. On two occasions he, John Jolsen came to the POD I was held and w/o any reason singled me out aloud: Methasani! I am going to put you in segregated cell. Two other deputy officers on duty, w/o any reason locked me down for many days. These and other incidents while incarcerated were not the norm. I apparently was singled out among others for mistreatment to discourage me from fighting my case in fear of a lawsuit for medical neglect, something that have never crossed my mind then or now. We tried to appeal the case but 2-3 motions to reconsider were turned down by ICE. J.J’s “perks” miles were being used to rush me out of the country. My mental health was not evaluated as required by rules on the 90 day release review. To this day, I have a chronic headache. This condition developed while in detention in the US. I was given some medicine about it for 5 days. It resumed after it and never stopped. About a month and a half in jai I was deceitfully taken to the airport, leaving no time for the lawyer to file for motion for stay of deportation. The day I was taken out of detention I was not allowed to even call my family so they should not come to see me. It was a Wednesday, my visitation day. Speaking of which, visitations looked like I was a murder, rapist, child sex offender, bank robber or something like that. My 6 yr old son would punch the thick soundproof glass that divided us during the so called visitation, speaking on the phone. We kept lying to him that I was working there. He knew that I had worked before for the government as an interpreter on various assignments. I was not allowed to even see my children before putting me on airplane for Albania. Conclusively, I may say that there was an orchestrated neglect on me, medically and legally. It may be an irreparable damage done on both cases. However, I strongly believe that with the adequate help from Human Rights organizations and with my lawyer’s legal help, something beneficial for the sake of my children and my whole family can happen. I appeal to anybody with the means of investigating and helping to restore my dignity: Please, Help! Some crooks that are too arrogant and too lazy to do their job should not be allowed to ruin the reputation of the Beacon of Freedom, Liberty and Justice for all, United States of America.
Thank You for your Support, in these hard times for me and my family!
P.S. If retail fraud of $11.00 worth of merchendise is CIMT (Crimes Involving Moral Turpitude) somebody needs to define what is removing the parent with
LPR (Legal Permanent Resident) status? If this does not constitute any from of crime, then what is it? A helping hand of the government to ensure safety and lovely environment for american children (read, my children)?
Brisilda Methasani
Eng. 111 Sec. 29
1-27-2010
Separation And Anxiety
I woke up from the sound of my mothers’ shriek like cries; she was screaming my name.
My mother always had a tendency to over exaggerate things, but this time, her voice was in pain. The fear that ran through me had me sprinting down the stairs where I saw the door wide open and my mother directly outside. Standing across from her was Lorenzo, a friend who had helped my dad with a few projects around the house. The only thing that came out of my mothers mouth, clearly still in pain, “your father’s in jail”. From the shock of it all, although I knew she was serious, I started to laugh. It was an unexplained laughter that came over me. I didn’t know how to react, what to say, or even how to feel.
Prior to that day my parents had gotten into an argument….but I knew my parents still loved each-other; they had been together for almost twenty years. And now they were forced apart. It wasn’t something that they had control over. It was something that they had to endure.
Forced back in to reality, we had to figure out where my dad was sent. The Washtenaw County police had no knowledge of his arrest; he was nowhere in their system. My mother and I didn’t know what to do. The restaurant that they owned was being remodeled by my father and Lorenzo that morning. Lorenzo told us that two suited officers came with a warrant for my dad, not knowing exactly why he was being arrested. All they said was, “it’s for immigration reasons“. This made no sense. My mother, father and I, are immigrants to the United States from Albania; we all have valid Green cards and came here legally.
We decided to go on with the day, even though we didn’t know what my dads plans for remodeling the restaurants bar counter were. We did know, at least, that we had to make a temporary one so we would be able to re-open. As soon as my mom left with Lorenzo, I received a phone call from the Detroit Detention Center; it was my dad, he had just a minute to talk. The first thing he said was, “Don’t worry,” and very quickly told me the name of the detention center and that I could visit him at 7 o’clock that evening.
By the end of the day the counter was finished and everything was back in order for the business. I was able to leave on time to head to Detroit, but in my mind I had no time at all. I zoomed down I-94 without realizing how fast I was really going; 89 miles an hour to be exact. When I looked over to my right there was a police officer pointing at me to pull over. I did so, and gave him my information and explained to him my situation. I told him that I didn’t know what was happening with my dad and that I thought I was going to be late. Thankfully the officer was kind enough to let me off with a warning.
I arrived right on time despite the interruption. I held strong for my dad, and for myself. He told me he had no idea why he was in there, but that they told him everything should be sorted out in two weeks. He kept reassuring me that everything was going to be okay and to not worry. He told me to continue with everything as normal; to keep the restaurant up and running and to remember to stay strong for everyone. He knew I was the strongest out of all of us. He knew my mom was going to take it the hardest and it was my responsibility to keep her sane.
That day affected the rest of the year. I had just graduated high school; to keep money flowing in, I didn’t return to school. I had to help support the family: my little brother Fisnik, and my two younger sisters, Albana and Merushe. But, I knew that what was most important, was keeping everyone, especially my mom, strong. My dad never returned home. For a period of five and a half months he was in a jail in Calhoun County. He was lied to and manipulated by many lawyers who made him believe everything was going to turn out for the best. He was tricked into agreeing to Voluntary Deportation- where he agreed to leave the States voluntarily, that he would be able to return within three to six months and his record would be wiped clean once he returned. But that was not what would happen. According to a fellow inmates lawyer, who soon became my dads, he was informed that because he was voluntarily leaving, he would not be able to return for two to three years. My dad then went back on his word, and the State did not like that. The fight wasn’t over, but it was soon to end.
Every week my mother and I visited my dad. After the fourth month it was too hard to deal with. Seeing his sad, lonely face, how skinny and weak he had gotten, was very painful. There were so many tears cried, but at times, just to lighten the day, little jokes were made. My dad had high spirits, he did believe everything would turn out for the best. I kept strong for so long until I broke down. I became tired of my life, and very selfish, I slacked on helping out. I gave up because I knew the end was near; the end of everything my dad had worked for for twenty years was going to be torn apart by an unjust and bias government. I know my dad was partially to blame, but threatening his ability stay in the United States affected all of us. Our family was forced apart; our survival without my dad is a struggle too deep for us to manage.
The week before Christmas he was deported without a clear understanding of why. Without ever knowing if he may return, the next stage in our lives is unknown. We live without knowing what’s to come. I am proud of my family to have made it this far. It shows nothing is stronger than love. The love we have for each other is what keeps us going. The hope that one day we will be able to be a family, a different kind of family, a stronger family; a family who knows we can make it through anything together.
This only an abreviated version of what happened after my “removal” (deportation carries a very negative conotation, somebody might have sugested this change, removal, like in stain removal)
My 9 year old daughter wrote this:
This is a song i wrote for u hope u like it.its called its different. its different when your gone its different when your here its different when you don’t cry its different when you shed a tear.life is different life is hard without you here. Every night i can’t sleep without crying out a tear, My dear father come back to me my only daddy.I know its hard all be yourself without your family its different daddy every night night. Every night is different when you’re not here. My dear father it’s so different but some how so the same,your in my my heart and I’m in yours. You’re in my head and im in yours. It’s so different but so much the same.our hearts are always together and close it so different but the same at one time.we’re as close as two lines together still. Babi, (father in albanian) that as much as i can write i might write the rest of it tomorrow.don’t forget about Fisnik’s birthday!!!
My house got robbed at 9 am . My children were held with a knife in their neck, while their father is in Albania, from which 20 years ago took to the border with then Yugoslavia and dodged bullets. He had left behind his wife with their daughter 5 months conception. Well, I going to switch back to first person, me, I, my, because it is me. Four years later we united in the land of freedom and justice for all, not just for those born in America. But now, I am sitting in Tirana, writing this story. My children now are supposed to feel love for the country that removed their father. Love for the country that in absence of daddy, get held down by masked fellow americans of theirs, while taking away merchendise, like plazma tv, videogames, laptop computer etc..
It was my son’s 7-th birthday.
Hi, ……(my lawyer’s name)
I am still waiting for an answer from you. What happened with BIA? Have they reviewed
my case yet or not. When? What next? Please, keep me posted.
My wife is under the impression that you are not very hopefull with appeals at at all.
Lot’s of bad things happening. My house got robbed yesterday. Children traumatized with knives in their neck. Oh, God! Where does it stop. At a very quiet, peacefull, middle class subdivision, getting robbed at 9 am. This is ridiculuos!
Anyway, Please keep me posted.
Yours, Halit Methasani!
Greetings Halit,
We submitted the brief on 2/9/2010. Usually it takes 3 to 4 months for the BIA to render a decision in detained cases, as it is carried as such right now. I, of course, will notify you as soon as we get a decision. If they dismiss the appeal for some reason, we will then have about 30 days until appealing in the 6th Circuit. I explained to your wife and Brisilda that I think there is better chance to succeed on judicial level, mainly for jurisdictional reasons.
I also advised that the limited funds you have are better spent via N-400 for your wife. The reason is to create a back-up plan with showing of extreme hardship for the wife. Everything else is of secondary importance.
Last, but no least, I am VERY disturbed to learn about the robbery. Please convey my relief that nobody got hurt. Also, keep copies of police reports so I eventually may be able to build the hardship case.
Thank you,
Greetings, (…)!
Thanks for replying promptly. I feel somewhat relieved by your explaination.
My children are physically sound but not psychologically or emotionally. On that day, March 17-th was my son’s 7-th birthday. None of my children went to school. Brisilda and Bedrije went to pick-up a restaurant grill in Dearborn (when it rains, it pours). That’s when it happened.
My son broke my heart (worse than it already is). He said: «Dad, this was my worse birthday I have ever had. First, without you here. They took our TV, my playstations (three of them), all of my videogames and Brisilda’s laptop. All of them reminded us of you, that’s what I care, but if you come home soon, I will throw everything away myself. I will not go anywhere without you. I want no friends anymore, I want no school anymore, I want no games anymore! Just You, daddy!»
I said: (Broken down as I am, trying to hold back my tears) Fisnik, just do not worry, everything in our house should remind you of me. I promise you, we will be back together one day, soon! Just hang on, son!
Dear Al,
Thanks for being a great friend to me in these hard times. I really hate sharing such emotions with you but, somehow, it feels like I must.
Again, Thank You!
Sincerely, Halit!
.Frommy lawyer:…………………………
Halit,
From the bottom of my heart, please be assured that I sincerely want you to be with your family, and as soon as possible. We will not leave a stone unturned.
Please maintain your faith and belief, and reward will come, one way or another.
………………………
These, are american citizens that belong to jail, but there is shortage of jailing capacity, because they are filled with legal immigrants like me, waiting their turn to be flown to the countries they had no choice of birth, but made the choice to try for freedom. There is no room for criminals like those terrifying my children. State of Michigan has four jails used for “removees” , Calhoun County, Chippewa County, Saint Clare, and Monroe. the first three are 50/50 criminals and immigrants. Monroe is all for immigrants. I should say I am lucky to have spent 5 1/2 months in Battle Creek, Calhoun County, before taken to Dearborn Police station, where, ICE had ordered my cell be cut off the phone. But, surprisingly, there was food for human, not for animals, like in Calhoun County jail. I was to be thankfull for that food, before being taken to the airplane. It was like being asked for the last meal before leathal injection. This, not because I was being sent to my country, Albania, but for leaving behind my sole purpose of living, my children. Fearing exactly what just happened on March 17, 2010.
What’s next?
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