video: PBS and VBSTV

The Border Fence: "Is America's border fence working, or an utter waste? NOW travels to Texas to meet families on the U.S.-Mexico border who fear losing their property, their safety, and their way of life."

Illegal LA: "The "debate" over illegal immigration in the United States has always been dominated by hotheads—pissy, sloganeering loudmouths on either sides of the fence drawn together by their shared love of yelling crap on radio call-in shows and steering the dialogue away from anything approaching a solution. And since the 9/11 attacks (carried out by 16 legal immigrants and three on expired visas), the discussion has basically devolved into an incomprehensible jumble. Like did you ever see those supposedly pro-immigrant "A Day With No Mexicans" ads where everyone’s sad that there’s nobody to mow lawns or sell tacos? Who’d they get to write those, the KKK? Seriously, the whole thing just makes us want to shut off our brains and watch Reba or something. But then we remember the lives of some 12 million people hang in the balance of this pissing match (as well as the American economy, welfare, national security, etc), and it’s like, "[exagerated sigh] OK, [rolling up sleeves] looks like we’ll have to wrestle this away from the assholes after all."

In Illegal LA, VBS heads to Los Angeles, the US locus of Latin American migrants and a flashpoint for recent anti-immigrant tensions, in an attempt to suss out the full nature of la reconquista instead of just trying to yell “We’re all immigrants!/Speak English!” until it looks like we’re about to hemorrhage from our eyeballs. Check out the Illegal LA showpage for more information."

Companies Take Lead in Assimilation Efforts, By Pamela Constable and N.C. Aizenman (WP)

Jose Trivelli, a graying engineer from Peru, spends his days fixing Internet connections at a Tysons Corner hotel and his evenings listening to a laptop computer program with cartoon characters and a chirpy voice that helps him pronounce such phrases as, "I'd like to open an account" and "Let me call my manager."

At 52, he admits to being slightly embarrassed by the simplistic instructional program, but he says his U.S.-born children, who speak perfect English, are so enthusiastic about his efforts that they help him with difficult words and dream of the day he will be promoted to manager.

Trivelli's employer, Marriott International, has a more ambitious motive for offering thousands of foreign-born housekeepers, cooks and maintenance workers its no-cost "Thirst for Knowledge" program, which simulates conversations in banks, hospitals, shops and schools as well as in hotel kitchens and lobbies.

Marriott and another Bethesda-based company, Miller & Long Concrete Construction, are among several dozen major U.S. corporations spearheading a campaign to turn the divisive national debate about immigration in a more positive direction.

"This is a mission for us," said Andy Chaves, a human resources manager for Marriott and a member of the White House Task Force on New Americans. "When our employees become proficient in English and assimilate into our society, it benefits the company, the community and the individual. Everyone gains."

Amid increasing public hostility to immigrants and intensifying efforts by local and federal authorities to crack down on illegal immigration, these business leaders hope to counter criticism that immigrants steal jobs and burden public services by highlighting the contributions they make to the U.S. economy and improving their ability to integrate.

The initiative is supported by a bill recently introduced in Congress. Sponsored by Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton (D-N.Y.) and three representatives from California, Florida and Texas, it would provide $350 million for immigrant family literacy programs, individual tax credits for teachers and corporate tax breaks for firms that offer educational workplace programs like "Thirst for Knowledge."

In addition to support from private firms that employ thousands of immigrants from Latin America and elsewhere, the bill is backed by the Americas Society and Council of the Americas, which recently issued a report called "U.S. Business and Hispanic Integration: Expanding the Economic Contributions of Immigrants."

The report points out that Hispanics make up more than 14 percent of the U.S. workforce, own more than 2 million businesses and have a collective purchasing power of more than $800 billion a year. It says foreign-born workers have much to offer but need more help to master English and become more invested in American society.

It concedes that many Hispanic immigrants arrive with limited educations and that the immigration wave of the past two decades has slightly depressed wages among unskilled American workers. It also argues that immigrants "complement" the overall labor force as more native-born Americans earn degrees and seek higher-level jobs.

The report also asserts that if immigrants are given more opportunities to learn, earn and engage, they will repay the investment as better workers, parents, consumers and participants in public life. Although not endorsing illegal immigration, the report accepts it as a fact of life that needs to be addressed through legislative reforms.

The report lists corporations that have offered their large immigrant workforces a variety of skill-building programs. These include scholarships at Wal-Mart, English classes at United Parcel Service, financial literacy programs at Western Union and bilingual skills development at Northrop Grumman shipbuilders.

Some companies that employ immigrants have been reluctant to associate themselves with the effort, however, citing fears of public criticism and government scrutiny amid increasingly aggressive federal efforts to track down illegal immigrants and punish their employers.

"Businesses feel cowed by the rhetoric," said Christopher Sabatini, a policy director at the Americas Society and Council of the Americas. "There is a fear of being labeled as aiding and abetting undocumented immigrants." He said some companies have curtailed programs aimed at helping immigrant workers because of community disapproval.

One company that has taken a strong public stance in favor of helping immigrant workers is Miller & Long. Myles Gladstone, the firm's personnel director, said that it once hired mostly African Americans but that since the early 1990s, fewer U.S.-born workers have applied, and they have been largely replaced by immigrants. Today, the firm employs more than 2,000 Hispanics, mostly foreign-born.

Gladstone said the firm started offering safety instruction in Spanish but gradually expanded into "broader life skills" for workers and their families. Today, it offers 65 free classes, including English, Spanish literacy, job safety, lifesaving, financial skills and health promotion. He said there are plans to expand the program to help immigrants keep their children out of trouble, with seminars on gangs and substance abuse.

He noted that not all immigrants are able to learn English and that of about 500 who have taken the company's language classes, "not a lot" have become truly bilingual. He said that if construction workers are trained well and understand safety, "they don't really need to have fluency in English," although without it they cannot become foremen or crane operators.

Antonia Diaz, 42, has advanced steadily at Miller & Long since she emigrated from Honduras six years ago. She began as a laborer, earning $10 per hour and speaking almost no English. Now, after taking corporate English classes for several years, she is a construction site safety worker and earns $18.50 an hour.

"If I had known I would be talking like this, I wouldn't believe it," Diaz said yesterday in passable English as she built wooden safety barricades around a construction site in Silver Spring. Although she converses with her mostly Hispanic crew in Spanish, she said learning English had other merits. "It helps me in my personal life," she said. She said she loves her job and plans to stay with Miller & Long but added: "If I know English and I get laid off, I can find other work. I am prepared for anything."

At Marriott, where some hotels have employees from as many as 25 countries, Chairman Bill Marriott calls immigrants the backbone of his business and frequently talks about the virtues of diversity and assimilation in his personal blog.

"We would hire a native-born person any day, but in most cases they don't want to do the lower-level labor we need in our business," he said in a telephone interview this week. "Probably the most important thing we can do is offer our employees the opportunity to learn English and grow and become part of our society."

At the Tysons Corner Marriott, much behind-the-scenes work is conducted in Spanish among immigrant employees. Most who have taken the "Thirst for Knowledge" class do not speak perfect English; Trivelli still confuses "chopping" with "shopping" and tends to drop his consonants. But he and the others said they have gained something else: a stronger sense of confidence and belonging in their adopted environment.

"Until now, I was always working too hard to study," said Trivelli, who was practicing vocabulary on his laptop in a workroom filled with tools and wires. "Now my kids are so happy I am learning. They help me with my pronunciation, and they tell me if I learn enough English, I can replace my boss one day."

**Story Link
**Photo Courtesy of Michael Williamson (WP): "Jose Trivelli, a Tysons Corner Marriott repairman, works on a program to learn English, part of an effort by companies to integrate immigrant workers."

Thai slave laborers freed in El Monte become U.S. citizens, By Teresa Watanabe (LAT)

Maliwan Clinton recalls her first taste of America with a shudder. In this fabled land of the free, she was enslaved behind razor wire and around-the-clock guards in an El Monte sweatshop, where she and more than 70 other Thai laborers were forced to work 18-hour days for what amounted to less than a dollar an hour.

When she was freed, a shocked public learned of slavery in its midst and flooded the Thai laborers with American generosity: Churchgoers offered shelter, community advocates proffered English lessons and job tips, lawyers fought for work permits and legal status for the group.

Exactly 13 years to the day the Thai laborers won their freedom, Clinton's American journey came full circle Wednesday as she acquired U.S. citizenship by taking the oath of allegiance to her new nation.

"I'm an American and this is my home now!" said Clinton, 39, as she waved a miniature American flag at the Montebello ceremony, where more than 3,600 citizens were scheduled to be sworn in by day's end.

Another former slave laborer, Sukanya Chuai Ngan, was also granted citizenship Wednesday. The two women are among dozens of the El Monte workers who have acquired citizenship this year or expect to do so soon.

More than 40 of them had gathered Sunday to celebrate with the Asian Pacific American Legal Center, which successfully fought for a $4-million settlement from manufacturers and retailers for their exploitation and won an uphill battle to gain legal status for the workers.

"Because of their courage, they were able to take what was a horrific experience and emerge from it as victors," said the legal center's Julie Su, their lead attorney for 13 years. "I'm really proud of them, but I'm also proud of America because this nation opened its arms to them and showed its best ideals of freedom and human rights."

The El Monte case drew international attention, blazed new paths in immigration and labor law, led to legislation offering visas for victims of human trafficking and became the subject of an exhibit in the Smithsonian Institution.

The case marked the first time in federal court that garment workers successfully held manufacturers and retailers responsible for the actions of their labor contractor.

It was the shocking nature of modern-day slavery in such a nondescript American neighborhood that so riveted the nation, Su said.

Ultimately, law enforcement officers arrested eight operators of a Chinese Thai garment sweatshop in an early morning raid in August 1995 and freed 72 Thai immigrants, some of whom had been held captive for at least four years.

As they celebrated their journeys to citizenship Sunday with American flags and certificates as "American heroes" from the Asian legal center, the former captives reminisced, often tearfully, over their trials.

Most of them said they came from impoverished farming families and had headed to the metropolis of Bangkok to find sewing jobs. There, they met labor contractors who promised them good jobs in America and monthly pay of $1,000 -- nearly 10 times what some were earning in Thailand.

They were told they would work 8 a.m. to 6 p.m., with weekends off to see the glamorous sights of Los Angeles.

But the reality was vastly different.

Buppha Chaemchoi, 37, said she was shocked to arrive in El Monte and realize that she would sleep crammed in one bedroom on the floor with nine others. The windows had been boarded up, she said, allowing virtually no sunlight. Her captors told her that if she tried to escape, brutal U.S. police would shave her head and stamp her scalp with marks of disgrace, she said.

"It made me worry and want to stay inside and just wait for my three-year contract to end," Chaemchoi said.

Chuai Ngan, 47, who came to the U.S. in 1993, said she also was intimidated with threats that her family would be harmed and their home in Thailand burned down if she attempted to leave.

Not all captives were willing to accept their fate, however.

Win Chuai Ngan, the 51-year-old husband of Sukanya, was the first to escape from El Monte. As one of the few male laborers, he said, he was allowed to go outside to take out the trash and help move sewing machines and other heavy supplies into the complex.

One day, he said, he saw a Thai newspaper in the trash, surreptitiously tore out the phone number for a Thai temple and kept it hidden in his pocket. In November 1992, he made his move -- jumping over the fence in the middle of the night. He ran to a taxi stand and asked to be taken to the temple.

"I was so scared the owner would see me and kill me," Win Chuai Ngan said.

He said he told his story to Thai authorities and newspapers in Los Angeles, and gave them an address label for the El Monte complex that he had torn from the newspaper.

But he said he did not report it to U.S. law enforcement officials because he was scared they would deport him.

A few others also escaped, and community advocates eventually helped get the information to authorities. On Aug. 2, a multiagency task force led by the California Department of Industrial Relations raided the complex.

Some of the women were cowed by their captors' earlier descriptions of U.S. police and refused to open the door, which authorities hacked open with an ax. Others said they were overjoyed at their liberation.

"I was so happy," said Clinton, who had been held captive since April 1994. "I thought, 'Oh my God, I'm going home!' "

In the end, most of the workers decided to stay after Su and others successfully fought to win legal status for them. The workers annually celebrate Aug. 13 as their first full day of freedom, since that's when all of them were allowed to leave immigration detention facilities.

Clinton and the Chuai Ngans said that whatever travails they endured here, their American journeys have been well worth taking.

Clinton fell in love and married one of the volunteers who helped her; the couple has two sons.

She works the graveyard shift at Target stocking shelves and aims to attend community college as a steppingstone to a higher-paying job.

Her biggest dream is to sponsor her niece's immigration to the United States -- the daughter of her only sibling, who died in an auto accident.

Chuai Ngan, along with her husband, Win, have started two Thai restaurants and a massage parlor, own two North Hollywood homes and four cars, including a Mercedes-Benz.

They earn enough to send money home to relatives and have built a meeting hall, school lunchroom and library in their impoverished rice farming village in northeastern Thailand. The couple also sends school supplies and sports equipment to the village children.

Like countless immigrants before them, the former slave laborers expressed gratitude for the bountiful opportunities in their adopted homeland.

"American people have such big hearts," Clinton said, "and now I'm so proud to say I'm one of them."

**Story Link
**Image Courtesy of Gary Friedman (LAT): "GROUP HUG: Mario Mercado, left, and Nantha Jaknang, center, hug Suphaphon Khamsutthi during a ceremony at attorney Julie Su's home to celebrate the freedom of the former laborers."

Notaries preying on undocumented immigrants, attorneys say, By Tal Abbady (South Florida Sun-Sentinel)

Over the years, word had spread in his Jupiter neighborhood. If you want a driver's license, go to a notario. Need a work permit? The notario can arrange it.

So Edgar, undocumented and eager for a pass out of the fringes of the law, walked into a notary public's office and plunked down more than $500.

The Mexican native obtained the documents — along with a deportation order.

Attorneys say hundreds of undocumented immigrants in Florida and around the country are victims of notaries who engage in the unlicensed practice of law by providing legal advice and filing immigration-related documentation on their behalf — work a notary is not authorized to do.

Asylum applicants are eligible for work permits and driver's licenses while their cases are pending. But a frivolous asylum application filed in order to obtain the license can result in a deportation order, according to several attorneys familiar with the practice.

"There's a lot of confusion as to what these companies can and can't do," said Janet Morgan, the bar counsel in the Florida Bar Association's Fort Lauderdale office who is investigating complaints filed against notaries. "There can be terrible results for people who go in and rely on a non-lawyer to prepare the right application for them."

Edgar, 27, said he went to Lake Worth notary Fabian Sosa in 2006. He said he signed documentation for what he was told was a temporary work permit and a driver's license. With a receipt from the transaction, he was able to get a license at a Department of Motor Vehicles office.

In fact, Edgar and his attorney said, the receipt was for an asylum application. In July 2007, Edgar was ordered before an immigration judge who told him his request for asylum was denied. He was dumbfounded.

"I never asked for asylum," said Edgar, who last name is being withheld because he is still trying to obtain legal status. "I know as a Mexican I'm not eligible."

Sosa declined to comment on Edgar's case.

Notarios, or notaries, have broad legal powers in Mexico and throughout Latin America, and immigrants often assume their role is similar here. But in the U.S., notaries are limited to taking oaths, authenticating certain documents and acting largely as a typing service. Officials say that hasn't stopped many notaries from advertising legal services in heavily immigrant neighborhoods in order to draw desperate clients to their storefront operations. The unlicensed practice of law is a third-degree felony in Florida.

"Notaries are seizing upon fears and rumors of raids, pickups and deportations," said Linda Osberg-Braun, president of the South Florida chapter of the American Immigration Lawyers Association. "They often represent themselves to be lawyers and sell hope where hope does not exist."

Osberg-Braun said the association would soon launch a Spanish-language radio campaign in South Florida to help educate immigrants about notary fraud.

"These people are getting rich on other people's pain. People need better information so they don't keep falling into these traps, " said Edgar.

The Florida Bar Association opened 659 unlicensed practice of law complaints, 163 of them immigration-related, in the 2007-2008 fiscal year, Morgan said. Thirty-seven complaints have been filed in 2008 against Sosa, owner of Las Americas Service on Dixie Highway in Lake Worth, she said. The complaints remain open. Spokesperson Sandi Copes said the Florida Attorney General's office also is investigating Sosa for practicing law without a license.

Sosa, who opened his business 18 years ago, denied the allegations that he had engaged in the unlicensed practice of law.

He said immigration attorneys often blame notaries as a tactic to get a stay of deportation from a judge. He said his agency simply provided a translation service and at no point offered legal advice. When he learned that some former clients who'd landed before an immigration judge were blaming him, he began asking clients to sign a waiver warning them false testimonials could lead to deportation. He said he no longer provides any translations for asylum claims.

West Palm Beach immigration attorney Aileen Josephs was able to halt Edgar's deportation, but said she knows of dozens of other cases in Palm Beach County that ended with forced removals and devastated families.

"The federal government is going after these immigrants with the pretense that they are fugitives of the law. But these fugitives are victims of people who have abused their vulnerability," Josephs said.

When asked about the allegations made by Josephs and Edgar, Sosa said he did not know the attorney and that he would not comment further. Josephs said she had spoken with Sosa about the allegations, but had not filed a complaint.

Aura, 26, a Guatemalan native who lives in Jupiter, regrets the day her partner consulted a notario. (It was not Sosa.)

Jose Antonio Melgar, 28, was deported to his native Honduras three months ago after the asylum claim a notary filed on his behalf was denied and authorities flagged him. He left behind two children, including a 2-year-old son who often refuses to sleep or eat since witnessing his father's arrest.

"You fill out a form and then this happens," Aura said. "Nobody warns you."

**Story Link

Texas U. officials say fence undermines school's mission, By Christopher Sherman

The steel fence that the U.S. government wants to build along the Mexican border would do more than slice through the University of Texas' Brownsville campus and cut off the golf course from the rest of the school.
School officials say it would make a mockery of the very mission of the university: promoting close ties between the U.S. and Mexico.

The university — built close to the Rio Grande on land where the United States and Mexico traded cannon blasts during the Mexican-American War 160 years ago — recruits Mexican students, offers government and business classes in English and Spanish and turns out sorely needed bilingual teachers. It has a biological field station in Mexico and hosts educators at a Binational Conference every spring. About 400 of the 17,000 students are from Mexico, and more than half of them commute across the river to class.

The fence, if built as envisioned by the U.S. Border Patrol, would run a mile north of the Rio Grande, the international boundary, cutting off about 180 acres of the 465-acre campus. University officials say it would also thwart its hopes of expanding someday toward the river, and send the wrong message across the border.

"To slice off and fence off the 'bi' part of 'binational' violates the essence of this university," said university President Juliet V. Garcia, whose office is situated in what was once the thick-walled, tan-brick hospital at Fort Brown, built shortly after the Civil War.

On Monday, university officials will ask a federal judge to force government officials to work with the school on alternatives to the fence, continuing a long-running legal fight that began when the Department of Homeland Security sued the school for refusing to allow surveyors onto its property.

In March, a federal judge ordered Homeland Security to consider the school's "unique status as an institution of higher learning" in minimizing the impact on the "environment, culture, commerce and quality of life" at the university. But the two sides have been unable to agree on some kind of alternative to a fence.

In a May 27 letter to the university, U.S. Customs and Border Protection said that in place of a fence, it would have to station Border Patrol agents every 50 yards along the 3.4 mile-stretch around campus, and the salaries alone would amount to $71 million.

A Border Patrol spokesman said the matter would be addressed in court and refused further comment.

The fence is being erected away from the Rio Grande for fear it could alter the flow of floodwaters and illegally change the international border.

People will still be able to reach the university from Mexico by way of the three international bridges that connect Brownsville to Matamoros, Mexico.

The Bush administration is hurrying to build 670 miles of the border fence by the end of the year.

The school's architecture reflects the twin influences on the region: Its older buildings are 19th-century remnants of Fort Brown, with tan brick walls, galvanized steel roofs and shaded arcades. Other buildings are Spanish-influenced, with tile, towers and terra cotta roofs.

The land the golf course is on belongs to the International Boundary and Water Commission, but the university holds a 99-year lease on it. The government contends it can build parts of the fence on the property without the university's consent.

The school, a part of the University of Texas system since 1991, said it cannot get a firm answer from the government on whether there will be a gate or some other opening that will enable students to reach the 165-acre course, which generates revenue for the university.

Also left in the no-man's land south of the fence would be the ruins of old Fort Texas, which was built during the Mexican-American War in 1846 and now consists of little more than earthen mounds.

"Of course, we believe in protecting our borders," the university president wrote in an open letter to students in January. "Of course, we believe in strong immigration policy. But we also understand that a fence, no matter how high or how wide, is no substitute for either."

In court papers, the university said that at a meeting earlier this month between Border Patrol Sector Chief Ron Vitiello and school officials, a conversation about alternatives ended abruptly when Vitiello told them their efforts were a "waste of time."

"He wanted to stop the conversation instantly," said Michael Putegnat, a consultant hired by the university.

Post-Sept. 11 border security measures have already reduced the number of Mexicans who legally cross the border for English classes at the campus, said John Robey, a political science professor. The fence, he said, just adds insult to inconvenience.

"They think that it's xenophobia run amok," he said.

Some students said they fear the fence will send the wrong message about them.

"You're trying to divide the world," said Omar Diaz, 20, a government major from Victoria, Mexico.

Allison Valles, an accounting major from Texas and a member of the golf team, said that the fence does more than pose a threat to her favorite activity.

"UTB is trying to portray an image of bringing everybody together, but we would have this wall between us," Valles said.

**Story Link

Court Rebuffs Bid to Speed Citizenships to Allow Voting, By Mark Hamblett (NY Law Journal)

An attempt to force the FBI and immigration officials to clear a huge backlog of citizenship applications by legal residents in time for election day was rejected yesterday by a federal judge.

Southern District Judge Lawrence M. McKenna refused to grant a preliminary injunction sought by the Puerto Rican Legal Defense and Education Fund and the New York Legal Assistance Group.

In an action that claimed the FBI takes far too long to process the name checks that are a prerequisite to full citizenship, the groups also sought to certify two classes of tens of thousands of legal residents who want to vote in November.

Announcing his decision dismissing all claims from the bench, Judge McKenna said that Congress requires the FBI to conduct a full criminal background check for each applicant for citizenship but, "[i]t does not require it to do so in some specific period of time."

In Milanes v. Chertoff, 08 Civ. 2354, the plaintiffs said delays of up to two to three years impose other hardships on legal residents in addition to preventing them from voting, including leaving them ineligible for important benefits and jobs and restrictions on travel.

Cesar A. Perales, the president and general counsel of the Legal Defense and Education Fund, said after the decision that the loss was a tough one. But he also said the groups would continue to press their case with an appeal as he praised the name plaintiffs in the case for their courage.

"Our clients were told by many of their friends not to bring this action because it would make it less possible for them to become citizens themselves," Mr. Perales said. "We are very, very disappointed with the decision today, but we still believe we have a very good case."

Milanes was brought under the Administrative Procedure Act (APA) and the Immigration and Nationality Act (INA) as well as the Constitution's Due Process Clause.

The groups claimed a general failure to process the applications within a reasonable time in violation of the APA 5 U.S.C. §555(b). Under the INA §336(b), they claimed, the government was failing to process their applications within 120 days of their initial examination.

The FBI is required to conduct a background check on every applicant for citizenship and until the bureau checks fingerprints and a database for an administrative or criminal record, the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Service (USCIS) will not schedule an examination of the applicant.

The plaintiffs sought to certify two classes. The first was for all permanent residents who have submitted or will submit applications for naturalization with the Citizenship and Immigration Service's New York office and whose applications have not been or will not be adjudicated within 180 days. The second was a subclass of people who have not been or will not be adjudicated within 120 days of their initial examination.

In all, the plaintiffs submitted five claims for relief and Judge McKenna rejected each one.

The government had argued in its motion to dismiss that Congress has plenary power in this area and has chosen not to impose the sixth-month deadline sought by the plaintiffs.

It would be one thing if the plaintiffs were suing to compel "discrete agency action," the government said, but instead they were seeking "a programmatic revision of USCIS's practices with respect to the statutory requirement that USCIS undertake a 'full criminal background check' and a 'personal investigation' of all naturalization applicants."

Judge McKenna agreed yesterday, saying, "The only agency action that can be compelled is action legally required."

The judge said the statutory requirement of a background check takes precedence over the regulation setting a time frame for processing applications.

Assistant U.S. Attorneys Robert William Yalen, Tomoko Onozawa and Kirti Vaidya Reddy said in their papers that the agency does not have a duty to act on applications before an FBI name check and "the FBI does not owe any duty to individuals whose name check it is running."

The government also argued that the plaintiffs' due process claim should be dismissed because "no constitutional liberty or property interest of plaintiffs has been denied."

Jane Greengold Stevens, the director of the Legal Assistance Group's special litigation unit, held out hope for an appeal to the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit after yesterday's ruling.

"This decision is based on a technical legal issue that doesn't speak to the suffering" of people who have been waiting to become citizens, Ms. Stevens said. "The one thing in our favor is that [Judge McKenna] believes there is grounds for certifying a class" if the plaintiffs win on appeal.

Richard Slack, a partner at Weil Gotshal & Manges who worked on the case pro bono, said his firm was approached by the Legal Assistance Group and asked to offer its services.

He said the firm agreed to work on the case because "we learned that large numbers of legal immigrants . . . had been waiting, in some cases, for years" to have their applications processed.

**Story Link

Tuition paid for valedictorian in legal limbo, By John Koopman (SF Gate)

The future looked bleak for 17-year-old Arthur Mkoyan a couple of weeks ago.

A 4.0 student and the valedictorian at his high school in Fresno, Arthur had lost his chance to study chemistry at UC Davis this year because of immigration problems involving his father, who had come to the United States more than 16 years ago. He wasn't sure if he would stay in the States, get deported or ever finish his education.

Until Sherry Heacox stepped in.

The Danville resident saw a story about Arthur's plight in The Chronicle in July and decided to help him out. She's going to pay for him to go to UC Davis for four years.

"I didn't believe it at first," Arthur said. "I thought it was a joke."

No joke. Heacox said she stewed over the article for several days, frustrated and angry over a situation that seemed so hopeless for the young man. She wondered why no one would step forward and help this young man who had so much to offer his adopted land.

And then, a thought came to her.

"Sometimes you have to put your money where your mouth is," she said.

Education isn't cheap. The university estimates the annual cost for an undergraduate student, with in-state tuition, to be about $25,000.

It's not as if this will be easy for the Heacox family. Heacox runs a food-importing business and her husband, Hank, is an engineer. The couple just got done paying for their daughter's education at UC Santa Barbara. Heacox didn't want to say how much she intended to pay for Arthur's education, other than to say she will pick up the tab for everything: tuition, fees, books, room and board.

"This isn't Bill Gates we're talking about," she said. "It's not as if the money won't be missed."

Arthur's parents fled Armenia in 1991 after his father, Ruben Mkoian (father and son spell their surname differently), exposed corruption at the government office where he worked; the family's house was burned down and a shop they owned was ransacked.

Mkoian and his family settled in Fresno and Mkoian applied for asylum. Seven years later, his claim was denied, and he appealed all the way to the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals in San Francisco. The court turned him down this year, saying he had failed to establish a "well-founded fear of persecution" if he returned to Armenia.

In April, federal immigration authorities detained Arthur's father and prepared to deport him. His mother was allowed to remain free to care for Arthur and his 12-year-old, U.S.-born brother until the date of their departure.

Sen. Dianne Feinstein, D-Calif., heard about the family's case and, on the very day of Arthur's commencement, and just days before the family's scheduled deportation, introduced a private bill in the U.S. Senate that led to Mkoian's release after two months in detention and could grant the family lawful permanent residence.

Such bills rarely pass - an estimated 3 percent are approved - but as long as the legislation is pending, the removal order remains suspended, which gives Arthur and his family a temporary reprieve that could last a couple of years.

While the issue of deportation remains alive, the family is hopeful - and amazed that someone would make such a generous offer of help.

"She is a wonderful, wonderful lady," said Arthur's mother, Asmik Karapetian. "When she called us to say she wanted to pay, we couldn't believe it. Arthur was jumping for joy. This is like a dream come true."

Heacox said she decided to help Arthur because she doesn't like how his family was treated. "We're all immigrants," she said. "Some of us just got here earlier than others."

She also supports education, she said, and Arthur's plight struck her deeply.

"Anyone who is willing to study hard and get an education - especially in the sciences - ought to have the chance to do so," she said.

And then, too, there was a desire to do something special, something worthwhile. To make a difference in the life of another human being.

"I don't want to be one of the people in life where the best thing I did on this earth was die off," she said.

New-student orientation is on Sunday. Arthur and his parents will be there.

And so will Sherry Heacox.

**Story Link
**Image Courtesy of Paul Chinn (The Chronicle): "Asmik Karapetian and her son Arthur Mkoyan finish lunch at home in Fresno. They're amazed at the offer of help."

The Laws Cops Can’t Enforce, By George Gascón (NYT)

OUR next president faces a formidable task. He will be forced to deal with two difficult wars, an economic downturn, higher energy prices and a bankrupt federal immigration policy.

To some, immigration pales in comparison with the wars and the economy. But for others, especially police departments in border states like mine, it is all-consuming. The first priority of the next president should be legislation that addresses the legitimate concerns of both the people who believe our borders are out of control and those who want equal protection for everyone living in this country.

Immigration issues are tearing apart communities. Demagoguery and misinformation are shaping public opinion and in some cases public policy. In the absence of a clear federal policy on immigration, states and cities are enacting draconian and constitutionally questionable laws.

This patchwork of conflicting local immigration laws is creating an untenable situation for police officials who face demands to crack down on immigrants — demands that contradict policing practices that have led to significant declines in crime.

For police officials, refusing to carry out policies that may violate the Constitution can be career-threatening. Both sides in the immigration debate accuse police departments of misconduct in dealing with immigrants. In this politically charged environment, some chiefs are making decisions based on bad politics instead of sound policing. In many cases, police officers are making illegal arrests with the acquiescence and sometimes explicit approval of their superiors.

Here in Arizona, a wedge is being driven between the local police and some immigrant groups. Some law enforcement agencies are wasting limited resources in operations to appease the public’s thirst for action against illegal immigration regardless of the legal or social consequences.

America’s 500,000 police officers are sworn to enforce the law. But we are increasingly unable to do so. Those who want to restrict immigration criticize us for not arresting immigrants for entering the country illegally. Yet others rightly wonder how we can do our job if some residents are afraid to report crimes or otherwise cooperate with the police for fear of deportation.

Without a national immigration policy, a new culture of lawlessness will increasingly permeate our society. In cities, politicians will pressure police departments to reduce immigration by using racial profiling and harassment. At the same time, immigrants who fear that the police will help deport them will rely less on their local officers and instead give thugs control of their neighborhoods.

Many top law enforcement officials were part of the community policing revolution of the 1980s and ’90s. We have a deep concern for constitutional rights and social justice. We believe that effective policing requires residents, regardless of immigration status, to trust the police.

We are also students of the mistakes of our predecessors. Past police practices helped lead to the civil unrest of the 1960s, which tore our nation apart along racial and political lines. We do not want to repeat those mistakes.

If we become a nation in which the local police are the default enforcers of a failing federal immigration policy, the years of trust that police departments have built up in immigrant communities will vanish. Some minority groups may once again view police officers as armed instruments of government oppression.

A wink and a nod will no longer suffice as an immigration policy. Effective border control is a critical step. But so is ensuring that otherwise law-abiding undocumented immigrants have the same protections as everyone else in a modern, free society.

Presidential candidates need to specify the measures on immigration they would present to Congress after Inauguration Day. No doubt, the advisers to John McCain and Barack Obama are counseling them to be vague. That’s the wrong advice.

America’s police officers deserve thoughtful federal leadership so that we can continue doing our best to provide our country with the security that defines a civilized society.

George Gascón, a former assistant chief in the Los Angeles Police Department, is a lawyer and the chief of the police department in Mesa, Ariz.

**Story Link

Push needed for immigration reform, By: Gebe Martinez (Politico)

The physical and emotional pain of dozens of immigrants and their children was palpable recently when a congressional delegation walked into a room at St. Bridget’s Catholic Church in Postville, Iowa.

The town still suffers almost three months after 389 immigrants were arrested at a local meat processing plant and then detained at a cattle exhibit hall. At this meeting with three members of the Congressional Hispanic Caucus, their stories of inhumane treatment at work and legal injustices after the arrests came tumbling out.

There was a 16-year-old who worked on the kill floor of the plant — he was under the legal age limit for the job — who labored 17-hour shifts, six days a week, without overtime. There was a man who had lost his hand. There were women who were sexually exploited if they wanted a shift change.

In May, hundreds of federal agents stormed into the Agriprocessors Inc. plant, rounded up workers like cattle and chuted them through a pre-scripted legal process that cut off their legal rights to defend themselves against unusually harsh felony “aggravated identity theft” charges. Families are separated and women are wearing electronic homing bracelets pending the conclusions of their cases.

After meeting with the immigrants, Rep. Luis V. Gutierrez (D-Ill.) had a question for presumptive Republican presidential nominee John McCain, the Arizona senator who once worked on Gutierrez’s comprehensive immigration reform plan.

“Is this his ‘enforcement only’ plan?” Gutierrez asked chidingly. “How many more years of this do we have to have before we have comprehensive [reform]? How many more Postvilles do we have to have?”

Of course, Gutierrez backs Democrat Barack Obama for president, but he also was disappointed last year when McCain stepped back from the broad immigration plan they had collaborated on and began insisting that “border security” must come first.

But the questions should be posed, not only to McCain, but to others who have failed to step up and lead.

Obama needs to be pressed on immediate immigration fixes, and so does the Democratic Congress, which has refused to take up a big reform package until next year at the earliest.

And do not forget President Bush, who once stood for the comprehensive immigration plan until it failed last year in the Senate. Now, as Bush’s lame duck presidency limps to an end, he has turned his back to Postville while reserving his compassion for oil companies.

It is highly unlikely that Bush will grant Gutierrez’s request for a moratorium on immigration raids until a better solution is in place.

“You know who is in charge now? The Gestapo agents at [the Department of] Homeland Security. They are in charge,” Gutierrez said. “I think it is election season, and they have decided it did not work for us one way [with comprehensive reform], so let’s try to exploit it politically another way” through harsh enforcement.

Enforcement only, without also figuring out how to legalize 12 million undocumented immigrants in the country or refining the rules for employers who hire illegal immigrants, is exactly what conservatives want in this election year.

The Center for Immigration Studies, which favors strict limits on legal and illegal immigration, recently concluded that, in addition to a sinking economy, “increased enforcement seems to have played a significant role” in reducing the illegal immigrant population over a nine-month period ending in May.

The accuracy of the center’s calculations were highly criticized by immigrant advocates, but the center stuck to its argument that “muscular enforcement” can “induce” illegal residents to return to their home countries.

Heeding the criticism that immigration enforcers have unnecessarily disrupted families, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement is testing a 17-day program in five cities that asks 457,000 non-criminal illegal immigrants who ignored deportation orders to turn themselves in. Coordinating their departures with ICE will “ease their transition and minimize the impact of their removal on their loved ones,” the agency said.


Legal family members of the illegal immigrants are invited to leave the country as well.

The plan would be laughable if the issue were not so serious, said Frank Sharry, executive director of America’s Voice, which wants an overhaul of immigration laws that combines tougher enforcement with expanded visa programs and earned legalization.

“Call me crazy, but I doubt that [test program] sends the message to Latino voters that the Republican Party understands the complexity of this issue and supports practical solutions,” Sharry said, referring to the competition for the Latino vote in the November election.

Postville is the poster board for the broken immigration system.

The federal government’s chase of illegal immigrants at the meat plant disrupted a Labor Department probe into unfair work and wage practices by the owners. Critics have accused ICE of being more aggressive about prosecuting minor immigration violations than punishing employers.

Last week, the American Civil Liberties Union found a government “manual” given to lawyers assigned to defend the workers. The package included scripts for plea and sentencing hearings, which the ACLU said resulted in undermining the immigrants’ ability to understand the charges against them and receive full hearings.

Filled with fear, most of those arrested agreed to waive their rights, plead guilty to lesser charges and spend five months in prison before being deported. The alternative was to spend at least six months in jail while waiting for a trial, risk being sentenced to at least two years in prison, and still be deported.

Gutierrez likened the process to indicting a person for murder without any evidence. In this case, where many are claiming innocence of the identity theft charges, “we prosecuted the people we should be protecting. It corrupts our judicial system and it undermines our values.”

While Democrats plan to hold a congressional hearing in Postville next month, efforts also are underway on incremental measures to help legal immigrant workers and their employers.

Fixes to the E-Verify electronic employment verification system were approved by the House last week.

Rep. Mike Honda (D-Calif.) and Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton (D-N.Y.) also proposed a new bill that would invest federal dollars in English literacy and civics programs for adults and school children and give a 20 percent tax credit to employers who provide English and GED instruction.

The point of the bipartisan-backed bill is to promote immigrants’ desires to integrate in American society rather than focus on “English-only” and other aspects of the immigration debate that fuel rancor, said Peter Zamora of the Mexican American Legal Defense and Educational Fund.

“There’s hot air fatigue. Members [of Congress] now recognize they were elected to get something done, not just fulminate about a class of people,” Zamora said.

Maybe. But nothing will be done before the November elections, and not soon enough for the people in Postville.

**Story Link
**Image Courtesy of Politico

Some thoughts about Latino immigrants and class, By Miriam (Feministing)

Jack has a great post up at AngryBrownButch (and Feministe) about a new Demos report on the instability of the Black and Latino middle class. Jack shares some really interesting insights from childhood, and it inspired me to share some of my own thoughts.

From the report:

African-American and Latino families have more difficulty moving into the middle class, and families that do enter the middle class are less secure and at higher risk than the middle class as a whole. Overall, more African-American and Latino middle-class families are at risk of falling out of the middle class than are secure. This is in sharp contrast to the overall middle class, in which 31 percent are secure and 21 percent are at risk.
My parents are Cuban exiles, who immigrated here in the 60s shortly after Fidel Castro took power in Cuba. The reason why class has such different implications for immigrant families in the US is because they bring their class histories with them from their countries of origin.

Some immigrants come to the US to flee poverty, others are forced to leave behind relative wealth in their home countries seeking safety in the US. My family left because of communism, and their inability to maintain ownership over their respective businesses. While my paternal grandfather was a wealthy businessowner in Cuba, my maternal grandfather owned a small modest cornerstore. Neither side was able to regain similar class positions after coming to the US. Money was really tight when they first came over (people were not allowed to bring any of their things, including money, with them when they left) and my paternal grandfather (who had been relatively wealthy in Cuba) never rose above lower middle class status (my best estimation, it's hard to really know) in the United States. This was partially because he held onto the dream of returning to Cuba (as so many Cuban exiles did). For most of his life in the US he sold used cars for a living, and my grandmother (who had never worked before) worked as a secretary in a local school in Miami.

My parents and their siblings have all dealt with class in different ways. My mother's sisters became really wealthy, by marriage and entrepreneurship. Business and wealth are really important to them, and as someone who works in non-profits it's a struggle to relate to my cousins on that side. My parents took the education route, and are both college professors. They each have very different financial situations (now divorced) but we never had to deal with the fear of real poverty because of the security and stability that tenure and academia afford. They have always had trouble relating to their parents and siblings, who don't understand what they do and look down on them as simply "teachers."

It still remains to be seen how these things will affect my generation in my family, the first generation US citizens. We are all learning really different lessons about class from our parents and society in general.

**Artcile Link

Immigrants Facing Deportation by U.S. Hospitals, By Deborah Sontag (NYT)

High in the hills of Guatemala, shut inside the one-room house where he spends day and night on a twin bed beneath a seriously outdated calendar, Luis Alberto Jiménez has no idea of the legal battle that swirls around him in the lowlands of Florida.

Shooing away flies and beaming at the tiny, toothless elderly mother who is his sole caregiver, Mr. Jiménez, a knit cap pulled tightly on his head, remains cheerily oblivious that he has come to represent the collision of two deeply flawed American systems, immigration and health care.

Eight years ago, Mr. Jiménez, 35, an illegal immigrant working as a gardener in Stuart, Fla., suffered devastating injuries in a car crash with a drunken Floridian. A community hospital saved his life, twice, and, after failing to find a rehabilitation center willing to accept an uninsured patient, kept him as a ward for years at a cost of $1.5 million.

What happened next set the stage for a continuing legal battle with nationwide repercussions: Mr. Jiménez was deported — not by the federal government but by the hospital, Martin Memorial. After winning a state court order that would later be declared invalid, Martin Memorial leased an air ambulance for $30,000 and “forcibly returned him to his home country,” as one hospital administrator described it.

Since being hoisted in his wheelchair up a steep slope to his remote home, Mr. Jiménez, who sustained a severe traumatic brain injury, has received no medical care or medication — just Alka-Seltzer and prayer, his 72-year-old mother said. Over the last year, his condition has deteriorated with routine violent seizures, each characterized by a fall, protracted convulsions, a loud gurgling, the vomiting of blood and, finally, a collapse into unconsciousness.

“Every time, he loses a little more of himself,” his mother, Petrona Gervacio Gaspar, said in Kanjobal, the Indian dialect that she speaks with an otherworldly squeak.

Mr. Jiménez’s benchmark case exposes a little-known but apparently widespread practice. Many American hospitals are taking it upon themselves to repatriate seriously injured or ill immigrants because they cannot find nursing homes willing to accept them without insurance. Medicaid does not cover long-term care for illegal immigrants, or for newly arrived legal immigrants, creating a quandary for hospitals, which are obligated by federal regulation to arrange post-hospital care for patients who need it.

American immigration authorities play no role in these private repatriations, carried out by ambulance, air ambulance and commercial plane. Most hospitals say that they do not conduct cross-border transfers until patients are medically stable and that they arrange to deliver them into a physician’s care in their homeland. But the hospitals are operating in a void, without governmental assistance or oversight, leaving ample room for legal and ethical transgressions on both sides of the border.

Indeed, some advocates for immigrants see these repatriations as a kind of international patient dumping, with ambulances taking patients in the wrong direction, away from first-world hospitals to less-adequate care, if any.

“Repatriation is pretty much a death sentence in some of these cases,” said Dr. Steven Larson, an expert on migrant health and an emergency room physician at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania. “I’ve seen patients bundled onto the plane and out of the country, and once that person is out of sight, he’s out of mind.”

Hospital administrators view these cases as costly, burdensome patient transfers that force them to shoulder responsibility for the dysfunctional immigration and health-care systems. In many cases, they say, the only alternative to repatriations is keeping patients indefinitely in acute-care hospitals.

“What that does for us, it puts a strain on our system, where we’re unable to provide adequate care for our own citizens,” said Alan B. Kelly, vice president of Scottsdale Healthcare in Arizona. “A full bed is a full bed.”

Medical repatriations are happening with varying frequency, and varying degrees of patient consent, from state to state and hospital to hospital. No government agency or advocacy group keeps track of these cases, and it is difficult to quantify them.

A few hospitals and consulates offered statistics that provide snapshots of the phenomenon: some 96 immigrants a year repatriated by St. Joseph’s Hospital in Phoenix; 6 to 8 patients a year flown to their homelands from Broward General Medical Center in Fort Lauderdale, Fla.; 10 returned to Honduras from Chicago hospitals since early 2007; some 87 medical cases involving Mexican immigrants — and 265 involving people injured crossing the border — handled by the Mexican consulate in San Diego last year, most but not all of which ended in repatriation.

Over all, there is enough traffic to sustain at least one repatriation company, founded six years ago to service this niche — MexCare, based in California but operating nationwide with a “network of 28 hospitals and treatment centers” in Latin America. It bills itself as “an alternative choice for the care of the unfunded Latin American nationals,” promising “significant saving to U.S. hospitals” seeking “to alleviate the financial burden of unpaid services.”

Many hospitals engage in repatriations of seriously injured and ill immigrants only as a last resort. “We’ve done flights to Lithuania, Poland, Honduras, Guatemala and Mexico,” said Cara Pacione, director of social work at Mount Sinai Hospital in Chicago. “But out of about a dozen cases a year, we probably fly only a couple back.”

Other hospitals are more aggressive, routinely sending uninsured immigrants, both legal and illegal, back to their homelands. One Tucson hospital even tried to fly an American citizen, a sick baby whose parents were illegal immigrants, to Mexico last year; the police, summoned by a lawyer to the airport, blocked the flight. “It was horrendous,” the mother said.

Sister Margaret McBride, vice president for mission services at St. Joseph’s in Phoenix, which is part of Catholic Healthcare West, said families were rarely happy about the hospital’s decision to repatriate their relatives. But, she added, “We don’t require consent from the family.”

In a case this spring that outraged Phoenix’s Hispanic community, St. Joseph’s planned to send a comatose, uninsured legal immigrant back to Honduras, until community leaders got lawyers involved. While they were negotiating with the hospital, the patient, Sonia del Cid Iscoa, 34, who has been in the United States for half her life and has seven American-born children, came out of her coma. She is now back in her Phoenix home.

“I can think of three different scenarios that would have led to a fatal outcome if they had moved her,” John M. Curtin, her lawyer, said. “The good outcome today is due to the treatment that the hospital provided — reluctantly, and, sadly enough, only in response to legal and public pressure.”

Unlike Ms. Iscoa and Mr. Jiménez, most uninsured immigrant patients in repatriation cases do not have advocates fighting for them, and they are quietly returned to their home countries. Sometimes, their families accept that fate because they are told they have no options; sometimes they are grateful to the hospital for paying their fare home, given that other hospitals leave it to relatives or consulates to assume responsibility for the patients.

Mr. Jiménez’s case is apparently the first to test the legality of cross-border patient transfers that are undertaken without the consent of the patients or their guardians — and the liability of the hospitals who undertake them.

“We’re the rhesus monkey on this issue,” said Scott Samples, a spokesman for Martin Memorial.

A Life-Changing Accident

Mr. Jiménez’s journey north was propelled by the usual migrant’s dreams. When he pledged thousands of dollars to pay the smuggler who delivered him to the United States, he envisioned years of labor on the lawns of affluent America and then a payoff: the means to buy land of his own, to cultivate his own garden, back in Guatemala.

But fate — in the person of Donald Flewellen, a pipe welder with a drug problem and a long criminal record — intervened. At lunchtime on Feb. 28, 2000, Mr. Flewellen was loitering in the parking lot of a Publix supermarket in Palm Beach Gardens, Fla., when the employees of an irrigation company ran inside, leaving the keys in their van. Seizing the moment, Mr. Flewellen, a thorn in the side of local prosecutors with at least 14 arrests, jumped into the van and drove off.

In the next few hours, Mr. Flewellen consumed enough alcohol to produce a blood-alcohol level four times higher than the legal limit. But drive he did, along the back roads that connect the affluent Treasure Coast to the agricultural interior where Guatemalan Mayan immigrants have settled in a place, coincidentally, called Indiantown.

About 4 p.m., Mr. Flewellen was heading east on a rural road just as Mr. Jiménez and three compatriots were returning home from a day of landscaping. His stolen van and their 1988 Chevrolet Beretta crashed head-on, instantly killing two of the Guatemalans and severely injuring the driver and Mr. Jiménez, a back-seat passenger.

Identified first as John Doe, Mr. Jiménez arrived by ambulance at Martin Memorial, a not-for-profit hospital on the banks of the St. Lucie River in Stuart. He was unconscious and in shock from extensive bleeding, with two broken thigh bones, a broken arm, multiple internal injuries, a terribly lacerated face and a severe head injury. A doctor noted his prognosis as “poor.”

But Mr. Jiménez, after intensive surgical and medical intervention, survived. “He was no longer Luis; he was another person,” Montejo Gaspar Montejo, his cousin by marriage, said, describing a previously husky and industrious laborer who was also a soccer enthusiast. “He didn’t talk. He didn’t understand anything. He stayed curled up in a ball. But he was alive.”

During that time, Martin Memorial asked Michael R. Banks, a local lawyer who specializes in estate planning, to set up a guardianship for Mr. Jiménez. “I said, ‘Sure, what can come of such a case?’ ” Mr. Banks said. “Then it took on a life of its own. They probably regret they ever called me.”

Mr. Jiménez, whose common-law wife and two children remained in Guatemala, had been living for just under a year with Mr. Gaspar’s family. Mr. Gaspar, who works in golf-course maintenance, agreed to serve as guardian.

At first, things were amicable. In the summer of 2000, Mr. Jiménez was transferred to a nursing home in Stuart, which may have accepted him because an insurance payout was possible.

Mr. Flewellen, who eventually pleaded guilty to D.U.I. manslaughter, D.U.I. injury and grand theft auto, was not insured. But the Guatemalan families sought to hold the irrigation company liable since its employees left the keys in the car. Their lawsuit ultimately failed.

In the nursing home, Mr. Jiménez began wasting away. His relatives grew anxious. Then, Robert L. Lord Jr., Martin Memorial’s vice president of legal services, said, “Mr. Jiménez was put back on our doorstep.”

He arrived by ambulance, this time emaciated and suffering from ulcerous bed sores so deep that the tendons behind his knees were exposed. With infection raging, “the question to be answered is if the patient’s condition is terminal,” a doctor wrote in his file.

Again, Martin Memorial’s doctors provided life-saving care. Hospitals are mandated to treat and stabilize anyone suffering from an emergency medical condition, and the federal government does provide emergency Medicaid coverage for illegal and new immigrants.

But hospitals say that emergency Medicaid covers only a small fraction of those expenses: $80,000 in Mr. Jiménez’s case, according to court papers.

Mr. Jiménez remained in a vegetative state, coiled in a fetal position, for “one year, two months and 15 days,” Mr. Gaspar said with precision.

Stunning his relatives and medical officials, though, Mr. Jiménez gradually woke up and started interacting with the world. “One day,” Mr. Gaspar said in Spanish, “we arrived for a visit, and he said to me, ‘You are Montejo.’ ”

Not long afterward, the battle began between Martin Memorial and Mr. Gaspar, a reserved man whose Indiantown living room is decorated with a “We Love America” clock, a beach towel from the ancient city of Tikal and a hammered metal image of the Virgin Mary.

A Hospital’s Dilemma

The average stay at Martin Memorial, a relatively tranquil hospital which features a palm frond design in its gleaming lobby floor and white-coiffed volunteers in its gift shop, is 4.1 days and costs $8,188. Patients rarely linger.

Those like Mr. Jiménez who outstay their welcome are an oddity but not an anomaly. Mr. Jiménez had a roommate from Jamaica, a diabetic who lost both legs. Martin Memorial eventually flew him back to his native country, too.

In addition to trauma patients, there are uninsured immigrants with serious health problems. “In our emergency room, we don’t turn anyone away,” said Carol Plato Nicosia, the director of corporate business services. “The real problem is if we find an underlying problem, and now we have six of them — six patients who showed up in renal failure and that we are now seeing three times a week for dialysis.”

One of the six, she said, voluntarily returned to Guatemala after receiving a poor prognosis. But she showed up at Martin Memorial again after her relatives insisted that she undertake the trek over the borders a second time because she could not get treatment in Guatemala, Ms. Plato Nicosia said.

“I don’t want to sound heartless,” Ms. Plato Nicosia said. “A community hospital is going to give care. But is it the right thing? We have a lot of American citizens who need our help. We only make about 3 percent over our bottom line if we’re lucky. We need to make capital improvements and do things for our community.”

Martin Memorial reported a total margin of 3.6 percent over its bottom line last year and 6 percent in 2006. According to the most recent statewide data, the nonprofit medical center also reported assets of $270.6 million in 2006, with its senior executives earning more than $4 million in salaries and benefits.

Tax-exempt hospitals are expected to dedicate an unspecified part of their services to charity cases, and Martin Memorial devoted $23.9 million in 2006, about 3 percent, which was average for Florida, according to state data.

Mr. Jiménez was a very expensive charity case. In cases like his, where patients need long-term care, hospitals are not allowed to discharge them to the streets. Federal regulations require them — if they receive Medicare payments, and most hospitals do — to transfer or refer patients to “appropriate” post-hospital care.

But in most states, the government does not finance post-hospital care for illegal immigrants, for temporary legal immigrants or for legal residents with less than five years in the United States. (California and New York City are notable exceptions; Medi-Cal, the state’s Medicaid program, spends $20 million a year on long-term care for illegal immigrants, as does the Health and Hospitals Corporation of New York City.)

Martin Memorial’s lawyer, Mr. Lord, said hospitals should not be forced to assume financial and legal responsibility for these cases. “It should be a governmental burden,” he said, “or the government should step in and otherwise exercise its authority for deportation or whatever it wants to do.”

In Mr. Jiménez’s case, the hospital’s doctors determined that appropriate post-hospital care meant traumatic brain injury rehabilitation. Much to the surprise of the hospital staff, Mr. Jiménez had regained cognitive function to about the level of a fourth-grade child.

Hospital discharge planners searched to no avail for a rehabilitation program or nursing home. “Unable to take patient” was the response to many queries, as noted in Mr. Jiménez’s files, which also state: “At this time, patient remains a disposition problem.”

Representing Mr. Jiménez’s guardian, Mr. Banks took the position that the hospital had a responsibility to provide Mr. Jiménez with the rehabilitation he needed — even if it meant paying a rehabilitation center to provide it. That, he noted, could have benefited both the hospital and the patient.

“It would have been more cost-effective for them,” Mr. Banks said, given that daily patient costs in long-term care are far lower than in acute-care hospitals. “And if the rehab worked, then Luis might have become a functional person and nobody’s charge.”

But the hospital declined, as Mr. Lord put it, “to take out our checkbook” and subsidize his care at another institution.

“Once you take that step, for how long are you going to do that — a year, 10 years, 50 years?” Mr. Lord, the lawyer, asked.

At that point, the hospital intensified its efforts to involve the Guatemalan government in the case. In a memorandum obtained by The New York Times, a consular official wrote that the hospital “informed us of how expensive it was becoming to care for Luis given that there was no insurance and that he is illegal and that the state won’t assume responsibility for his charges.”

Eventually, the Guatemalan health minister wrote a letter assuring Martin Memorial that his country was prepared to care for Mr. Jiménez. Gabriel Orellana, who was foreign minister at the time but did not have direct knowledge of the case, said the Guatemalan government was disposed to assist an American institution. “If a hospital in Florida asks if we can take care of a Guatemalan patient, the tendency is to say yes,” Mr. Orellana said.

Mr. Gaspar was dubious, believing the public health care system in his homeland to be grossly inadequate.

So the guardian and the hospital reached an impasse, and Martin Memorial finally took the matter to court, asking a state judge to compel Mr. Gaspar to cooperate with its repatriation plan. In June 2003, a hearing was held before Circuit Judge John E. Fennelly.

The Journey Home

In the courthouse in Stuart, a low-key, upscale town that boasts world-class fishing, George F. Bovie III, a lawyer for Martin Memorial, addressed the judge: “This case is not simply a case, as some would try and paint it, of money. This is a case about care for a man in this country illegally who has reached maximum medical improvement at our hospital and is ready to be discharged and whose home government” is prepared to receive and treat him.

Mr. Banks responded: “Your honor, this is a case about a hospital that has failed to do its job properly,” adding that the hospital sought to “have this court legitimize its patient dumping.”

By the time of the hearing, Mr. Jiménez was essentially a boarder at the hospital, wheeling around the hallways and hanging out at the nursing stations. Diana Gregory, a nurse who supervises case management and discharge planning, said in a recent interview that Mr. Jiménez — “I will affectionately call him Louie” — became “like family” to hospital staff members, who bought him birthday cakes, knitted him blankets and gave him toys.

According to hospital records, however, it was not all pastries and presents. Mr. Jiménez grew depressed as he gradually became more cognizant of his situation. He showed signs of regression, too. Emotional and behavioral volatility often follow serious head injuries, and Ms. Gregory said that Mr. Jiménez had developed some disturbing habits, including spitting, yelling out, kicking and defecating on the floor.

In court, his doctor, Walter Gil, testified that Mr. Jiménez would benefit from returning to the intimacy of his family. In his case file, the doctor had noted that Mr. Jiménez had told him, “Estoy triste,” meaning, “I’m sad.”

Dr. Gil said he asked Mr. Jiménez, “Why are you sad when you have basically everything that could be offered to you?” And, he said, Mr. Jiménez replied, “I miss my family and my wife.”

Mr. Banks’s witnesses challenged what they described as Guatemala’s vague offer to care for Mr. Jiménez.

Dr. Miguel Garcés, a prominent Guatemalan physician and public health advocate, said in a deposition that serious rehabilitation “is almost nonexistent” in Guatemala outside private facilities. He predicted that Mr. Jiménez would be taken in and then released from the country’s one public rehabilitation hospital within a matter of weeks.

“I don’t want him to go home and die,” Dr. Garcés said.

“Nobody wants him to go home and die,” the hospital’s lawyer responded.

A few weeks later, Judge Fennelly ruled. “This Court,” he wrote, “sails on uncharted seas.” He acknowledged that his decision might provoke dissent but opined, “As Aquinas once stated, ‘The good is not the enemy of the perfect,’ ” inverting and misattributing Voltaire’s famous quote, “The perfect is the enemy of the good.”

And then he granted the hospital’s petition, ordering that Mr. Gaspar stop “frustrating” the hospital’s plan to “relocate the ward” back to Guatemala.

Mr. Banks was stunned. He filed a notice of appeal and asked for a stay of the court’s order while the appeal was pending. The judge asked the hospital to file a response by 10 a.m. on July 10 before he ruled on the stay.

Four and a half hours before that response was due, shortly before daybreak on July 10, 2003, an ambulance picked up Mr. Jiménez at the hospital and drove him to the St. Lucie County airport, where an air ambulance waited to transport him back to Guatemala. Mr. Gaspar was not apprised.

“We went to see him at the hospital, and his bed was empty,” he said.

The hospital’s lawyer declined to comment on why the hospital did not wait for the judge to rule on the stay.

Diana Gregory, the nurse, traveled to Guatemala with Mr. Jiménez, bringing a wheelchair, a week’s worth of medications, “lunch/snacks/juices/treats,” and an emergency passport signed with a fingerprint, according to discharge records. Mr. Jiménez wore a Florida Marlins cap and carried a toy cellphone.

During the flight, the records said, Mr. Jiménez dozed, paged through picture books, pushed the window shade up and down and pointed outside, saying, “Look, look!” When he arrived in Guatemala, an ambulance took him to the National Hospital for Orthopedics and Rehabilitation, which occupies the converted stables of an old villa in the historic center of the capital city.

Ms. Gregory accompanied him there, turned over his records and toured the hospital. In a recent interview, Ms. Gregory said she was impressed by the place and especially by the staff’s pride in it, despite equipment that looked “like it could have been donated to the Smithsonian.” She added, “That facility could have taken care of me any day.”

While Ms. Gregory was taking her tour, Mr. Jiménez was holding court, according to her notes in his file, “telling everyone that he was from Miami, Florida, and showing them his toy cat.” At her request, a physician told Mr. Jiménez in Spanish “that he would be staying with his new friends in Guatemala and that I was leaving.” His response, according to her notes: “O.K., O.K., adiós.”

Glad that she had helped reunite Mr. Jiménez with his homeland, she said, “I left Guatemala quiet in my heart.”

Care in Guatemala

Immaculately clean but dilapidated, Guatemala’s National Hospital for Orthopedics and Rehabilitation operates on a shoestring budget of approximately $400,000 a year, according to Dr. Harold Von Ahn, who was director when Mr. Jiménez arrived.

Half the hospital is devoted to orthopedic care and the other half serves as an “asylum” for profoundly disabled Guatemalans. Although it is the only public rehabilitation hospital in the country, it dedicates just 32 beds to rehabilitation and does not offer the specialized brain injury treatment that Mr. Jiménez needed.

The Guatemalan foreign ministry said that it knew of 53 repatriations by American hospitals in the last five years. During a visit by The Times to the National Hospital in June, the most recent arrival was an 18-year-old, Diana Paola Miguel, transported there by the University Medical Center in Tucson nine days after a van accident crushed her pelvis, which the Arizona hospital repaired. Supine on a gurney, she Ms. Paola was too tremblingly upset to talk.

Dr. Von Ahn said he believed that American hospitals were dumping patients that should be their responsibility. “It’s the same as the classic fall on the stairs, right?” he said. “You go to my home, you fall on my stairs and then you sue me. I am responsible.”

Shortly after Mr. Jiménez arrived, the Guatemalan hospital contacted his common-law wife, Fabiana Domingo Laureano, who lived in the city of Antigua with their two young sons, and asked her to come get him. Ms. Domingo, who was 27 at the time, was shocked to learn that her husband was back and terrified by the request. Then as now, she was eking out a living, selling traditional woven clothing in a marketplace while sharing a spare, concrete room with her sons in her parents’ humble home.

“I was already living from hand to mouth,” she said in an interview in Antigua, where her sons now supplement her income by selling cigarettes after school. “How could I possibly have given him what he needs?”

The couple met as teenagers in the highland village of Soloma. In the mid-1990s, Mr. Jiménez migrated with his wife’s family to Antigua, a volcano-ringed colonial city where tourism sustains the local economy. While she sold clothing, Mr. Jiménez worked as a bus driver’s assistant. Together, they earned about $6 a day, which was not enough to support their family, so Mr. Jiménez, with his wife’s brother, Francisco Gaspar, decided to follow a well-traveled path to the north. That is when he changed his name from Gervacio Gaspar to Luis Jiménez, which is how he is now known, even by his family.

After pledging to pay a coyote, or smuggler, about $2,000 each to ferry them into the United States, they crossed into California under cover of darkness and made their way to Encinitas, where Mr. Jiménez’s older brother lived, Mr. Gaspar said.

After the two men failed to find regular work, Mr. Gaspar began suffering panic attacks and returned to Guatemala; Mr. Jiménez decided to try his luck in Florida.

“Lamentably,” Mr. Gaspar said, “luck eluded him.”

After the hospital contacted Ms. Domingo, Telemundo, the Spanish-language network, called Ms. Domingo and offered to take her to Guatemala City. Shortly thereafter, the network showed her reunion with her husband.

“You are Maria by chance?” Mr. Jiménez said to his wife as the television cameras rolled.

“Fabiana,” she replied. Their two sons stood by her side, wide-eyed.

A few weeks later, Dr. Von Ahn said, the hospital discharged Mr. Jiménez “because we needed the bed,” transferring him to another public hospital, San Juan de Dios. That is where Mr. Jiménez’s brother, Enrique Lucas Gervacio, found him when he made his way down from the mountains by bus.

“He was lying in the hallway on a stretcher, covered in his own excrement,” Mr. Lucas said. “So we cleaned him up and we brought him home.”

In Favor of Jiménez

In May, 2004, a Florida appeals court overruled Judge Fennelly.

The Fourth District Court of Appeal found that the Florida state judge had overstepped his bounds because deportation is the prerogative of the federal government. The court also declared that no evidence supported the hospital’s assertion that Mr. Jiménez would receive appropriate care in Guatemala; the discharge plan, the ruling said, was not detailed enough to satisfy federal requirements or the hospital’s own rules.

The appeals court voided the judge’s order although, given that Mr. Jiménez was already back in Guatemala, that action came too late for him.

It might affect others, though. The decision has become what is known legally as a case of first impression on the issue of hospital repatriations.

John DeLeon, a lawyer who advises the consulates of Mexico, Honduras and Guatemala in Miami, said he now referred to it when he received calls from hospitals looking to discharge seriously injured or ill immigrants.

“I now write I call my Montejo Gaspar letter,” he said. “It’s a letter that says, ‘Listen, don’t take action to dump this individual because you’ll be risking legal action. The law is now that hospitals can’t dump immigrant patients without securing appropriate after-care. If somebody has a serious illness and needs continuing care, a hospital can’t simply discharge them onto the street, much less put them on a plane.’ ”

Mr. DeLeon said that he was “bombarded by such cases,” adding that he was investigating another medical repatriation by Martin Memorial, which took place two weeks ago “behind the back of the Mexican government.”

Martin Memorial confirmed that on July 16 they flew Neptali Díaz, a severely brain-injured patient to Mexico. A court order authorized Mr. Diaz’s transfer to an unspecified Mexican hospital, ending the man’s 859-day, $2 million stay at Martin Memorial.

After the ruling in Mr. Jiménez’s favor, Martin Memorial did not appeal. But the case did not go away. The appeals court ruling set the stage for a personal injury lawsuit, taken on by Searcy, Denney, Scarola, Barnhart & Shipley in West Palm Beach.

With that established firm behind him, Mr. Gaspar initiated a false imprisonment action claiming that his cousin was essentially kidnapped by the hospital and smuggled out of the country in a kind of medical rendition. Since then, appeals judges have again ruled in Mr. Jiménez’s favor, stating the hospital can be sued for punitive damages as well as for the cost of his medical care.

This infuriates Ms. Plato Nicosia, the hospital administrator, who said it was Mr. Jiménez’s family who owes the hospital money and not vice versa. “Should they win, we would like them to take those damages and pay his hospital bill,” she said.

Jack Scarola, representing Mr. Jiménez’s guardian, said that he empathized with the hospital’s “significant economic burden” but said that it was the “quid pro quo” of accepting Medicare and Medicaid funds to help finance the hospital’s services. (About 45 percent of Martin Memorial’s net operating revenues came from Medicare and Medicaid last year, based on state data.)

“Also,” he continued, “they chose the wrong way to deal with it. The right way would have been through the Legislature. There is no program in place to appropriately distribute care to undocumented persons who are catastrophically injured, and there should be. But you don’t stick a brain-injured immigrant on a private plane and spirit him out of the country in the predawn hours.”

Weighing Quality of Life

The journey to Jolomcú is an arduous one, as Mr. Jiménez’s new legal team discovered when several members — a lawyer, a paralegal, a priest and a bioethicist — first traveled there to meet him.

After a five-hour drive north from Guatemala City to Huehuetenango and then a winding trip, filled with hairpin turns on cliff-hugging roads up and over the Cuchumatán Mountains, they arrived at the provincial city of Soloma.

From there, the road to Mr. Jiménez’s hamlet only goes so far, and the trip must be completed on foot, up and down a rutted dirt path through goat-strewn meadows. The Americans arrived at the top panting. There, awaiting them, in an idyllically situated one-room brick house, was Mr. Jiménez, a broad grin lighting up his face.

“The first striking thing was his disposition: He was very, very happy,” said the Rev. Frank O’Loughlin, who pastored migrant workers in South Florida for decades. “Then, the second thing, he was well cared for. What I did was I got down over him and hugged him but also smelled. And there were no bedsores. Nothing was malodorous.”

As they drove back to Huehuetenango, Marnie R. Poncy, a nurse-lawyer who runs a bioethics law project in Palm Beach County, offered her view: “I said, ‘His quality of life is better than it would be in an American nursing home.’ ”

“But I hazarded a guess that his longevity of existence was probably severely curtailed,” she said.

Still, the team reached a conclusion that surprised them: “There was no real compelling reason to think of bringing him back to Florida,” Father O’Loughlin said. “We needed to focus on getting help to him or him to help in Guatemala.”

Help has been slow in arriving.

When The Times took the trek to visit him in late June, Mr. Jiménez had not budged from his hilltop home since returning there and no medical professional had visited him, either. With his mother too frail to move him into his wheelchair, his life had shrunken to the confines of his bed, across from his mother’s.

During the visit, Mr. Jiménez, wearing a nubby Adidas hat and a ski jacket, sat wrapped in a Guatemalan blanket; his mother, who wore a traditional woven skirt, with a floral scarf braided through her long gray hair, stood by his side. She patted his head; he reached out to pick lint from her sweater.

A few days prior, he had suffered a particularly violent seizure.

“He was almost dead,” his mother, Mrs. Gervacio, said in Kanjobal, which was translated into Spanish by a school principal serving as interpreter. “For many years, I am caring for him like he is a baby, changing his diaper, washing him. But this is worse. I am worried to leave him alone at all.”

She is right to worry, said physicians consulted for this article. Patients suffering seizure disorders run the risk of injuring themselves — and of increasing their brain damage.

Still, Mrs. Gervacio does leave from time to time, she said, to go to Mass, shutting the door behind her and hoping for the best.

“It scares me a lot when you leave, Mama!” Mr. Jiménez blurted out, revealing that he was intently following the conversation that at first took place as if he were not there.

Given that Mr. Jiménez’s mother’s health is failing, the family worries about the future, too. And Mr. Jiménez shares their concern. “The day my mother is no longer, what’s going to happen to me?” he said. “This is what I have on my mind.”

Mr. Jiménez, whose memory is patchy, said he remembered nothing about his time in the United States — not Indiantown, not his job as a gardener, not the accident and not the hospital.

He does, remember the dreams that propelled his migration, and he expressed them eloquently: “I headed north like a peasant with a heavy bundle on his back, bent over, determined to better himself,” he said. “Other people had things so I thought, ‘Why not me?’ But now I regret it. Maybe God was punishing me for my illusions.”

“No, Luis,” the interpreter interjected, “it was just chance, an accident, a car accident.”

In Guatemala City, Dr. Garcés, the public health advocate, said that he was not surprised that, as he had predicted, Mr. Jiménez never received further medical care. “That’s the usual story of patients that are released from the National Orthopedic Hospital,” he said.

Dr. Garcés called Mr. Jiménez’s repatriation “inhumane.”

“In cases like that, if you cut the medical care, you’re hurting that person,” Dr. Garcés said. “You’re doing just the opposite of what the medical system should do. That goes against every international convention of human rights and health. To send him to Guatemala was to send him to very poor living and health conditions and probably he will die because of that, and that’s not fair.”

Without evaluation, doctors cannot know what potential for rehabilitation — or survival — Mr. Jiménez possesses.

If Mr. Jiménez’s guardian were to prevail in the lawsuit, “it would be possible to set up a good health care arrangement for him because in private practice we have all types of specialties that he needs,” Dr. Garcés said. “And transportation could be arranged.” But the case could drag on for years.

On the day of The Times’s visit, before Mr. Jiménez ate a lunch of eggs, tortillas and sugar water, Mr. Banks, the lawyer, gave him a present from his cousins in Florida — a plastic bag bulging with tube socks, undershirts and oversize sweatpants. Mr. Jiménez fingered the clothing with little interest but when a reporter began to read him the accompanying letter in Spanish, he snatched it excitedly from her hands.

Much to the surprise of his visitors, Mr. Jiménez, despite his brain injury, could read. He smoothed out the yellow legal paper from Mr. Gaspar and began: “I am sending you some little things. Luis, I hope that you like them.”

At first, Mr. Jiménez read haltingly, then more fluidly. Later, when all his visitors had gone outside, he read the ending aloud again to himself.

“I want to tell you,” he read, “that we miss you and love you a lot. May God continue to bless you.”

Mr. Jiménez smiled, and repeated, softly, “May God continue to bless you.”

**Story Link
**Image Courtesy of Josh Haner (NYT): "Luis Alberto Jiménez, an illegal immigrant injured in a car accident in Florida, was treated at a community hospital, which eventually sent him back to Guatemala. He spends most of his days inside a one-room house; only the presence of visitors, who can help him into his wheelchair, gives him the rare chance to get out of bed."