"When I tell the receptionist at VFW headquarters why I'm calling, she isn't sure she's heard me correctly.
"Deported veterans?" she says.
"Yes, ma'am."
There's a pause. "Huh."
Even at an organization like the VFW, even in a military town like San Diego, the news that former soldiers, sailors and marines are among the
hundreds of thousands of immigrants deported every year can come as a surprise.
It came as a surprise to Hector Barajas, too, a former Army paratrooper. Barajas grew up in Compton, a greencard holder, after immigrating to the U.S.
as a child; America was the only home he'd ever known. After two Army enlistments, it seemed ridiculous that he could be expelled from the country he
served.
"Even the guys that were in immigration detention with me, they were like, 'Man, you were in the military. They're not going to deport you.' But after
three or four days-," Barajas says as he grins and throws up his hands. "I thought it was a mistake. I was thinking, you know, I'm probably the only
person in the military who's ever been deported. As soon as I tell them that I served, they're going to release me."
That was in 2004. Barajas now lives in Rosarito Beach, a few miles south of the international border, where he heads up an organization called
Banished Veterans.
For vets in the Rosarito and Tijuana areas, common way stations for deportees, Banished Veterans is a temporary shelter, a place to get food and
clothing during the initial transition. For the broader community of deported former service members, Banished Veterans serves as a legal advocacy
group and a clearinghouse for information. It's still a young organization, up and running in earnest for only about a year. But, already, a white
board on the wall lists the names of about 100 other vets, mostly in Mexico, but also Jamaica, Central America, Europe and elsewhere, who are looking
for help.
All of the vets here were once legal residents, and all of them served in some branch of the military. Cast out after their service, they'd seem to
represent an outrageous breakdown in the country's immigration system, until you learn one important fact: They're all ex-cons. Honorably discharged,
some of them combat veterans, but nonetheless convicted criminals, they're the sort of deportees that confound the political debate over immigration
and, as a result, don't really figure into it.
After leaving the Army in 2001, Barajas returned to his family's home in Compton, where he started "hanging out with some bad people." A few years
later, he was convicted of discharging a firearm from a vehicle. No one was hurt in the incident, but it was serious enough to land him in prison for
three years. Shortly before his release, he was flagged with an "immigration hold," transferred to a federal facility and then deported.
It was an ironic turn of events, because it was exactly the kind of thing he'd hoped to avoid when he joined the military. Barajas says he viewed the
Army as a potential escape hatch in a neighborhood that otherwise presented only a narrow range of options, not many of them good.
"My parents are-." He trails off, and his voice is tight as he continues. "I wouldn't trade them for the world. And I wanted to get away from all that
and do something to make them proud. When you get that nice, you know, tight uniform, people look at you differently," Barajas says.
He still has that uniform, crisply pressed, hanging on a hook near his cluttered workspace. But it doesn't do him much good anymore.
"There're a lot of organizations that won't touch us because we've gotten in trouble," Barajas says. Veterans groups don't necessarily see immigration
advocacy as part of their mission, he says, and immigrant-rights groups don't view convicted criminals as a good public face for immigration reform.
Even when people do hear about their stories, Barajas says, feedback isn't always positive.
"When there's an article, and you see those comment sections?" Barajas says, tilting his head back. "Ooh, man, they really tear us up. Some people are
really nasty about it."
Authorities at the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency don't track how many vets are deported every year. Immigration attorneys I spoke with in
San Diego say the number is probably in the thousands, based on the percentage of non-citizens in U.S. prisons. Virginia Kice, a spokesperson for ICE,
said prior military service is one factor that the agency considers when it prioritizes who should be removed, in line with an executive order issued
by President Obama in 2011, and "senior leadership" in each field office has to sign off on removal when a vet is involved. It's not that they can't
be deported, but they should be near the end of the list.
Without a master list to work from, the tactics Barajas uses to track down other deported vets resemble those of an investigative journalist or a
private eye. He works sources in the community, who keep their eyes peeled for dazed-looking military types, and he lurks on Facebook, randomly
pinging veterans to appeal for help. The walls of the group's headquarters, which is also Barajas' cramped apartment, are covered in maps and lists of
names. Among the loose papers is a framed photo of Barajas' 7-year-old daughter, who still lives in the U.S.
The group got some media coverage last fall, including a story by KPBS, and people are starting to take notice. Barajas is busy planning a fundraiser
for later this month. They recently qualified for tax-exempt status, a victory, but also a new challenge. Barajas has to put together bylaws and
establish a governing board, and he hardly knows where to begin. It's been a learning experience. He's starting to get the hang of Google Docs.
"We're just winging it, with nothing, you know?" Barajas says, waving a hand at his cluttered workspace. "I mean, I'm using milk crates as office
furniture, man."
Alex Murillo, a 35-year-old Navy veteran deported last year, is one of the guys Barajas tracked down. Murillo says he arrived in Rosarito "pretty much
blind"-no job, no money and no contacts in the city. That is, until he found salvation at the Mongolian Grill.
"I got to talking to the waitress, and I basically gave her the short version, told her I was a vet," Murillo says.
She told him about Banished Veterans, but even before Murillo had a chance to reach out to them, Barajas and his partner in the organization, Fabian
Rebolledo, also an army vet, showed up at his door.
Murillo grew up in Phoenix, arriving in the U.S. from Mexico as a toddler, and served in the Navy from 1996 to 2000. He was convicted of a nonviolent
drug-trafficking offense in Illinois in 2009 and spent three years in prison.
Like other members of Banished Veterans, Murillo said he was under the impression that he'd be granted citizenship after his Navy service. Immigration
lawyers say that while those who enlist have an easier time qualifying, citizenship isn't automatic. In recent years, they say, the military has been
doing more to guide recruits through the process.
Craig Shagin, a Pennsylvania immigration attorney who's been providing the group with informal legal advice, says that it used to be very unusual to
see veterans stripped of legal status.
"Prior to 1996, we didn't deport soldiers," Shagin says. "Now, these deportations are done routinely."
That was the year President Clinton signed the Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigrant Responsibility Act, which vastly expanded the category of
crimes that can lead to deportation. Today, virtually any offense with a sentence of more than year in prison can qualify as an "aggravated felony"
and lead to removal.
Shagin says the 1996 law stripped judges of some of their options in sentencing, making it harder to weigh factors like military service. Now,
discretion is exercised mostly at the enforcement level. But ICE officials can't change a sentence or rescind a deportation order; they can only move
veteran convicts down the priority list for removal.
For Shagin, the issues at play for Banished Veterans couldn't be more profound. What does it mean to be an American? And what does the nation owe
those willing to fight on its behalf?
"Loyalty is a two-way street," Shagin says, "and if you feel that these people owe you the loyalty to be subject to the draft, as many were... after
they perform that service, why should they be thrown out?" When they joined the service, all the men in Rosarito swore an oath to serve and protect
their country, Shagin says, and that oath wasn't conditional.
"They may lose their freedom," Shagin says. "But one thing that should never be taken away from them is the right to live in the country they
defended."
Augustin Garcia, or Auggie, as he prefers to be called, might exemplify that mismatched loyalty. With his Padres cap and salt-and-pepper stubble,
Garcia looks like the kind of retired Navy guy you might see touring the U.S.S. Midway with his grandkids some weekend.
Drafted into Vietnam, Garcia served two tours on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier before returning to civilian life. Nearly 20 years later, he
was convicted of a nonviolent drug-trafficking offense and spent six years in prison. He was deported in 1999.
"When I first got here, my Spanish wasn't even very good," Garcia says with a sheepish grin. "People would say, 'You're from the U.S., huh?'" he
laughs. "They still say that."
Barajas has a pretty full plate these days. The group's busy trying to organize a "private bill" for its members, part of an informal, little-known
process that can grant immigrants a reprieve from deportation orders. To make it happen, they'll have to convince a senator or member of Congress to
take up their cases personally, which would mean looking past their mistakes. In the meantime, he's busy fielding calls from reporters and hounding
new arrivals for their paperwork. Smoothing conflicts, too: While I'm there, he pauses our interview to mediate a dispute over a donated bed.
As we wrap up our interview, I ask Barajas if he still holds hope. He's been in Mexico for years now, and he's exhausted all but the longest of legal
long-shots under current law. Does he honestly believe he'll make it back home? He stares at the floor for moment before answering.
"I believe in my country," he says. "And I do still consider it my country. You know, every country has issues; every country has its problems. But in
the U.S., if there's an injustice, if it's the right case, they'll change laws, you know? The American public will back it. So, I just-yeah." He
shrugs, nodding slightly.
"I believe in my country. That's it."
Write to editor@sdcitybeat.com and follow Jon Campbell on Twitter: @j0ncampbellDENNIS - 3-14-2013 at 12:35 PM
Quote:
Originally posted by Gypsy Jan
until you learn one important fact: They're all ex-cons. Honorably discharged, some of them combat veterans, but nonetheless convicted criminals,
Shame on them. What part of the system is being blamed for that? A honorable discharge doesn't give permission to break the law, and they fought to
preserve a safe America....not defile it.
vets deportaion?
akshadow - 3-14-2013 at 01:08 PM
I wonder if they followed up on the required steps and actually became US citizens?bajaguy - 3-14-2013 at 01:25 PM
A. Did he file or apply for citizenship based on his military service????.......you don't get it automatically after serving.
B. As a green card holder, he is ineligible to purchase or possess a firearm.bent-rim - 3-14-2013 at 02:05 PM
Citizenship has it's advantages.BajaBlanca - 3-14-2013 at 02:10 PM
Indeed they should become citizens. And it should be automatic if they serve. JMO.bajaguy - 3-14-2013 at 02:27 PM
Quote:
Originally posted by BajaBlanca
Indeed they should become citizens. And it should be automatic if they serve. JMO.
Not "automatic", but possibly less hoops to jump through, depending on service, awards and rank.motoged - 3-14-2013 at 02:45 PM
Not everybody who serves is an honourable person.
Many an atrocity has been committed under the veil of a uniform.
Each to be judged by a range of criteria.
No automatic passes granted....the fine print might be relevant.
"Que sera sera...." (Doris Day)Tbone - 3-14-2013 at 02:47 PM
I for booting all cons out of the country, vets or not.DENNIS - 3-14-2013 at 02:51 PM
Quote:
Originally posted by BajaBlanca
Indeed they should become citizens. And it should be automatic if they serve. JMO.
If I recall correctly, that's the way it was when I was in the service. I don't know the details though.DENNIS - 3-14-2013 at 02:55 PM
Quote:
Originally posted by Tbone
I for booting all cons out of the country, vets or not.
Discharging a fire arm from a car?? But no one was hurt , translate , drive by shooting but was a bad shot. I guess he was not a marksman in the
service.
[Edited on 3-15-2013 by freediverbrian]
[Edited on 3-15-2013 by freediverbrian]BajaNomad - 3-14-2013 at 10:31 PM
Serving in the military does not make citizenship automatic. If you check during World War II we had people from different Countries fighting for the
USA but never got citizenship. In fact a number people from different islands during World War II fought hard against the Japanese along side our
soldiers but never got citizenship. In Vietnam we had the mountain people fighting right along side our soldiers and when we left we left them behind
to be killed off by the Communist for helping our soldiers.
So, if you serve it is a step to citizenship but not a done deal until you complete the paperwork and get to take the oath. Additionally, it is
expected that you stay away from doing gang related acts against the people here in the USA or doing other serious or violent offenses. Good things
along with good hard work accomplishes more than doing bad things then crying the blues when your caught and held accountable. Too bad Too Sad and
Adios! Take Care & Travel Safe---- "No Hurry, No Worry, Just FUN" bajafun777J.P. - 3-15-2013 at 09:20 AM
Quote:
Originally posted by motoged
Not everybody who serves is an honourable person.
Many an atrocity has been committed under the veil of a uniform.
Each to be judged by a range of criteria.
No automatic passes granted....the fine print might be relevant.
"Que sera sera...." (Doris Day)
I can rember when the Military Recuters sat on the back row of the court room and the defendant was offered the option of the court or Military
Service.
The Military option more often than not did not turn out so well, in fact often enough the military strongly discouraged the practice.
[Edited on 3-15-2013 by J.P.]
[Edited on 3-15-2013 by J.P.]
Don't do the CRIME
MrBillM - 3-15-2013 at 08:55 PM
Seems absurdly simple.
Crying Crocodile tears over any who can't follow that simple rule seems absurdly dumb.