Revengeance

Friday, August 2nd, 12 pm

A long time ago I learned runners should never have the night before running long distance: fatty foods and alcohol. I'm seriously regretting the wine I consumed last night. Why you ask? Because it causes things like gingerbread man, runner's trout, or as most refer to diarrhea. Three stops later and I'm on the long stretch home.

My legs screamed for a break as Eminem screams at me to lose myself in the music and the moment because I only have one shot. I push through trying to explain to my legs they had three pit stops already. I swipe my face with my right sleeve and continue past the point where my mind tells me enough is enough. The obstacle needs to be conquered. It always has. Once I break it, I can begin the cool down, but not until I put my mind right.

Since I've banned myself from the Range until Uncle Theo talks with Sergeant or he actually calls me back, I figured why not have a glass of wine last night after a long day of researching how to get Rosie and her grandmother out of this mess and protect both of them at the same time. Anna popped in and one glass turned into two, which turned into three. By the time we were done, two empty bottles sitting on the coffee table while we finished the last season of Goliath. Great show by the way.

Lunch at Tapas gets rescheduled to delivery at the office. There's too much for us to navigate and it's not appropriate in a public setting. I gather everything I have along with my laptop and make my way to the conference room. Mrs. Stanley comes in to drop some things off and then leaves. I take the opportunity to organize my research. This isn't going to be an easy case. We'll need to work as much as possible on Rosie's grandmother before the second hearing next Wednesday. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. She's got so many legalities against her.

What I've found most interesting in my search is that people associate immigration laws with whoever is sitting in the seat. Under Hoover, 60 million citizens were illegally deported. Does anyone remember that? No, because memories don't work like a video recorder. The mind may record events, but it's all circumstantial based on what the person was doing at the time the news comes to them. Memories are reconstructed trying to fit them in a puzzle more so than replaying a video.

In 1994, Clinton made the comment on national television that it is wrong and ultimately self-defeating for a nation of immigrants to permit the kind of abuse of our immigration laws. What's fascinating, is in the same breath, in the same sentence he pressed laws that significantly altered the ability to become a lawful and permanent citizen three years later.

"Sorry for the interruption. There's another case biding my time." She apologizes pushing papers around opposite from me.

I shift uncomfortably. "It's okay," I state hesitantly. I'm not sure I believe my own words. I got too close and I can feel it starting to overtake my thoughts. How can you have more than one of these? I know there's no room in my brain for more than one case.

"Let's start from the beginning," she instructs, glasses perched on her nose.

"Okay. You know about the grandmother," I start.

She holds up her hand, "What year was her mother illegally deported again?" I tell her 1934 and she nods in response. "And some militia came into the home and took her?"

"Yes and I found supporting documents about this occurring across the country." She nods at my conclusion.

"And she was born in Mexico, on Mexican soil, correct?" she asks looking over her glasses. "Yes, but-" she shakes her head to stop me. We aren't interjecting opinions here. It's all facts. I submit and start finish filling in the pieces for her.

About ten minutes later she sits back in her chair removing her glasses to chew on one of the ends. "So you're telling me there is nothing we can do?" she asks.

"That's correct. There aren't deportation records on most repatriations. Some were voluntary where they received a reward among their arrival to Mexico, but Mrs. Pagans family didn't voluntarily leave. They were removed physically threatened with detention and charges. I've looked into the small wrinkle of her life, but it doesn't change the fact that she wasn't born on US soil. She didn't come over on a Visa so she's on no one's radar."

"I wonder if we can get a senator to put in a stay of deportation. It's probably her only option if she wants guardianship. It'll unlikely happen, but she's going to need to make herself known in their system." I lower my eyes, searching for a different option. I know there isn't. Rosie either goes to foster care or Mrs. Pagan gets flagged by the system. Either way, the consequences aren't favorable for either. It'll be our job to fight for her to stay here and to remove Rosie from her home.

Panic rushes through my veins, "You know a judge is not going to want to remove a child from their mother. Could all of this be in vain?" Worry consumes me.

Mrs. Stanley shakes her head, "I don't know. We'll put together a case against the parents for neglect and endangering a minor in their care, but then Mrs. Pagan is going to need to get citizenship in order for a judge to give her the child. There are too many anomalies to know which way this is going to go. But, we're going to do our best, okay Meredith?" she levels a stern, determined gaze at me. I nod and get back to work.