“Isa, can you explain the process? How the hell does it work?”
“Well, he could depart voluntarily but Javier will never do that with the women and Antonio behind. He’ll fight if he can because he’s their main support. So today the judge decides if he should be released on bond. Then, they set a removal hearing in a few weeks where they decide if he has any legal basis to stay. Chances that he wins are very low. Then, they ship him off and he cannot return for ten years.”
Reagan’s profanities fill the car as it speeds over the black asphalt. At the immigration courthouse, we file through the security guards. Weapons? No. Illegal substances? My family. Intent to harm the U.S.? No. Passport? Not American? No. Why are you here? To live.
The guard hands me to another, who pats me down. Numb as I am, I feel the hands more, not less. Reagan does not get patted down. They smile at her differently. You’re one of us. She doesn’t smile back.
The courtroom for Javier’s hearing is sterile. American flags. Wooden chairs. The judge’s bench. One table for ICE, one for Javier. Twenty-nine days ago, a similar room crushed me. Today, I could demolish it with my heart alone. I fix my eyes on the clock on the wall, waiting. 1:16, 1:20, 1:21.
The double doors in the back of the courtroom open. My knees give out.
Javier wears an orange jumpsuit. An armed officer follows him inches behind. Javier’s head is down and he takes small steps. His skin is pallid despite its sienna beauty. For the first time in my life, I see him with a thick, dark stubble.
I stand as he comes closer. He looks up at me with hollowed eyes. His face is haggard; his lips chapped. I stumble forward to hold him but the officer —Bailey, his tag says—slips between us.
“No contact with detainees, ma’am.” Bailey holds out his hand. “Please step away.”
I ignore Bailey and keep my eyes on Javier’s. “I’m here. Corazón y alma.”
He’ll know it’s from Maria. And from me. Bailey drags him to the table. In minutes, a sharply dressed man strides in with a leather briefcase. Lawyer. I expect him to take ICE’s table but he sits by Javier. How did Javier get a sharply dressed lawyer? Maybe Aiden? The emptiness inside vibrates with something like life.
“Mr. Solis, Christopher Benetto with the law firm Benetto and Briggs. I apologize I couldn’t meet you at the detention center. I was getting the details on your case.”
Benetto scans the courtroom. His eyes rest briefly on Reagan and me. He and Javier whisper ear to ear away from Bailey. After some hushed conversation, Benetto strides toward us.
“Miss Snow, Miss Starr, are you both documented?”
“Yes, sir. I’m on my grace period, Reagan is a citizen.”
“Good. Listen. It’s imperative that you don’t say anything during the hearing. Sometimes families and friends speak up but that does more harm than good. Particularly if you know something that could hurt him.” As he says the last words, Benetto looks straight at me. I know what he is not saying. Javier has worked illegally and I am a witness. If I speak up and ICE questions me under oath, I could harm Javier.
“Did someone turn him in?” I try to speak normally but my voice comes out in whooshy wisps of air.
“Yes. ICE got an anonymous tip. It must have been someone who knew when and where Javier would be.”
“Was it the DOJ? They’ve been investigating a few things,” I suggest.
Reagan raises an eyebrow at this news but I squeeze her hand. There will be time to tell later.
Benetto shakes his head. “No, I checked. They seem to have closed the investigation and are starting Feign’s prosecution. The tip came from somewhere else—before the DOJ closed the file.”
Incapable of doing something productive with that information, I focus on other horrors. “Does this mean that ICE will go after his parents now too?”
Benetto smiles for the first time. “That’s highly unlikely. Recent presidential orders require ICE to focus on high-priority cases. They won’t waste resources on his parents. And even if they did, they wouldn’t deport them and leave the minor girls alone. Still, it’s best if his parents keep their distance—avoid the lion’s den, as it were.”
I draw in some air—one horror down, too many more to go. “Mr. Benetto, what about your fee? Javier doesn’t have much money and—”
“Don’t worry, Miss Snow. I can do this pro bono but fee arrangements are privileged. I cannot discuss them with you but he’ll be taken care of.”
“How did you hear about Javier?” Something isn’t clicking. How would Benetto know about a random immigrant getting caught?