澳彩开奖

On a breezy day in Manchester, New Hampshire, Mateo and his wife, Lisa, decided to run an errand.

As the couple rode down an interstate highway on July 31, 2017, they came upon a police vehicle on the shoulder with its lights flashing.

Under New Hampshire traffic laws, drivers must slow to a safe speed and 鈥溾�� to stationary emergency vehicles with flashing lights.

But Mateo, 36, did not know this.

He kept on driving as usual in the right lane, right past the police officer. As he continued driving, Mateo saw the flashing blue and white lights of a different police vehicle in his rearview mirror.

He heard the wail of the vehicle鈥檚 siren. He pulled over slowly. His heart raced, his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped as he looked at his wife in the passenger seat.

When the officer approached the driver鈥檚 side window, Mateo, an immigrant from El Salvador who speaks fluent English, explained that he had his passport with him, but he had not yet obtained a driver鈥檚 license.

The officer quietly went back to his vehicle, and Mateo 鈥� whose name has been changed in this story to protect his anonymity 鈥� feared the worst.

An hour later, a second officer arrived. The two officers arrested Mateo and took him to a New Hampshire jail. There, he was informed that U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) was 鈥渃oming to get him.鈥�

The worst had happened.聽聽聽聽聽聽

鈥淚 was filled with fear,鈥� he said. 鈥淢y wife was outside of the police station, crying and shaking. She was so afraid. I was devastated.鈥�

Mateo and his wife, a U.S. citizen, had married in 2010 after meeting at church, and Mateo had been working at a local restaurant as a cook since 2006. His prayers to find work and safety after fleeing El Salvador in 2005 had been answered. He had been grateful 鈥� and finally happy 鈥� until he was arrested.

In a painful twist, Mateo鈥檚 arrest came while he was in the process of obtaining his I-130 鈥� the first step toward becoming a permanent resident.

After being stuck in jail for 10 days, Mateo was transported to a Boston, Massachusetts, detention center, where he remained for over seven months. Then, he was sent to a New Hampshire detention facility.

He was moved from there in September 2018, this time to LaSalle ICE Processing Center in Jena, Louisiana, over 1,600 miles away from his home. He was told that he had an immigration hearing pending there, and he was to appear before an immigration judge.

But after he arrived in Jena, nothing went as 鈥減lanned.鈥�

鈥淚 asked ICE what was happening, but they knew nothing,鈥� he said. 鈥淚 asked and asked, but they just told me to wait. So, I waited, and I waited, and I waited. I never had my hearing.鈥�

Because Mateo鈥檚 moving violation was civil in nature, he wasn鈥檛 guaranteed an attorney at the government鈥檚 expense. For many detained immigrants like Mateo, attorney fees are too costly, and they are left to represent themselves pro se, often leaving their request for parole or bond denied.

Mateo reached out to the Southeast Immigrant Freedom Initiative (SIFI) 鈥� a project of the 澳彩开奖 that provides pro bono legal counsel to those facing deportation proceedings in the Southeast. SIFI took on Mateo鈥檚 case for bond, but not before he was transferred again, this time to Etowah County Detention Center in Gadsden, Alabama, in October 2018.

鈥楢busing their power鈥�

With each move to a different immigrant prison, Mateo sank into a deeper state of depression. With virtually nothing to do no matter where ICE held him, he became listless. He had a lot of time to think, to worry.

鈥淚 thought about my family, my wife,鈥� he said. 鈥淚 was very stressed, because I didn鈥檛 know what was going to happen, or why my case was taking so long.鈥�

At Etowah, Mateo and his fellow detainees were forced to wake up just after dawn. At 9 a.m., they were permitted an hour outside. There, Mateo and his fellow detainees would try to play soccer or exercise. But their hearts weren鈥檛 in it.

鈥淓veryone was just trying to get their mind off of thinking about their families,鈥� he said. 鈥淎ll you saw were sad faces.鈥�

During their 鈥渂reak,鈥� the men sat on a bench with their eyes glazed over. They stared blankly at the forest near the jail, and glanced toward the sky, their minds elsewhere.

When their 鈥渂reak鈥� was over, Mateo found it humiliating 鈥� and cruel 鈥� when officials shackled him around the waist and handcuffed him to take him back to his dorm. There, he would cry, pray and read the Bible; it was the only way he could cope.

As he tried to sleep on the thin mattress of the metal bunk bed, the guards played the radio loudly and slammed the large, metal doors to the room open and shut at the same hour each night. They did this to purposely wake the men up, he said. He often slept only two or three hours each night.

For meals, Mateo was forced to eat the cafeteria food, which gave off a smell so vile, it would nauseate him, and he would retreat to his dorm. Some men in the prison would rather starve than eat, he said. He didn鈥檛 have enough funds in his commissary account to afford the overpriced ramen noodles.

During his 鈥渄own time鈥� at Etowah, Mateo said he read about immigration laws from the handbook the immigrant prison provided. He learned quickly that he and the other men were not being treated fairly 鈥� that ICE was doing the opposite of what it had promised to do.

鈥淭hey keep us detained for so long, when we know the law says that鈥檚 not how it should be,鈥� Mateo said. 鈥淭hey were doing whatever they wanted to do. They were abusing their power.鈥�

Broken and shattered

After being labeled a 鈥渄og鈥� and a 鈥渞at鈥� by prison guards for so long, Mateo felt broken inside. He felt robbed of his humanity.

鈥淭hey look at us as just a number, they strip us of our dignity,鈥� he said. 鈥淭hey strip us of our rights. Even if you are polite, they don鈥檛 pay attention to you. They鈥檙e racists who want to intimidate you by yelling and calling you names.鈥�

The guards also insisted to Mateo that he would be deported, even though they knew nothing of his case. But their threats stung. Their intimidating tactics were working, and fear lay like a knot in Mateo鈥檚 chest.

After being in jail for so long, he didn鈥檛 know what was going to happen. Were the guards right? Would he be deported?

Eventually, Mateo鈥檚 fear grew so great that he sought the help of a psychiatrist. But his request for medical attention went unanswered for several days.

What鈥檚 more, he saw that doctors ignored requests from other men. The guards were cavalier; they didn鈥檛 care about his or the other men鈥檚 suffering, he said.

鈥�One man was limping, and he requested to see a doctor over and over,鈥� he said. 鈥淏ut they never helped him. They flat-out refused [his request].鈥�

Inside, Mateo felt numb. He was shattered and losing hope, to the point that he no longer wanted to fight his case. It had been close to a year-and-a-half since he was placed in detention.

鈥淚 couldn鈥檛 take it anymore,鈥� he said. 鈥淚t was awful, and a lot of people were giving up.鈥�

One person who had not given up was SIFI Attorney Rose Murray.

She was busy working on Mateo鈥檚 behalf. From Alexandria, Louisiana, Murray phoned Mateo and Lisa, to obtain the information she needed to secure his release. Research shows that because Mateo had access to an attorney, he was automatically 10-and-a-half times more likely to prevail in his case.

Included in the stack of supporting documents Murray gathered were 14 letters from Mateo鈥檚 friends and co-workers. All of them had known him for over a decade, ever since he fled his home country on foot in 2005.

The letters were glowing testaments to Mateo鈥檚 character 鈥� that he was a good person, a great friend and a hard worker.

Finally, on Dec. 10, 2018, Mateo鈥檚 first official hearing was scheduled. However, the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) did not bring Mateo鈥檚 file to court, even though the agency knew in advance that he would appear. So the hearing was deferred, and Mateo was forced to wait another 10 days in detention.

鈥楢 feeling you can鈥檛 describe鈥�

But on Dec. 20, 2018, Murray again presented Mateo鈥檚 bond request and asked that the process be expedited. After Mateo appeared in court via Skype from Etowah (only the audio was working at the time), a Louisiana immigration judge finally granted his bond.

鈥淢ateo鈥檚 case is certainly one that causes us to question ICE鈥檚 standard practices of immigration detention, and what incentives are at play that make detention 鈥� with all of its human and financial costs 鈥� the default,鈥� Murray said. 鈥淕iven his lack of any criminal history or dangerousness, his approved I-130, and even a secondary form of immigration relief, it鈥檚 concerning that ICE continued to detain him for so long.鈥�

Mateo was full of glee after his release. As he walked out of the immigrant prison, he admired the blue pale of the sky and the green depths of the forest. He smiled as he embraced his wife 鈥� a deep, genuine smile 鈥� for the first time in 18 months.

Now out of immigration prison, he could feel the joy of freedom again.

鈥淚 was so happy,鈥� he said. 鈥淚t was such a great moment. When you get out of a place like that, you get a feeling you can鈥檛 describe.鈥�

Photo by聽John Moore/Getty Images