TTSOML #217: Immigration Hearing Process (Vancouver, B.C.)

So then I was back in handcuffs, in the dog crate in the immigration van, and going to the other building where they had hearings. I was thrown into a holding room which was really just a bathroom with a bench. I was the only woman, and next to me was a room with men, who sounded mostly hispanic (I heard a lot of Spanish). I was there for HOURS and had no access to a lawyer.

Here I was told I'd be able to talk to a lawyer, but they didn't give me access to one until about a half hour before the hearing.

While I was waiting, I sang a couple songs but not much. I sang "La Isla Bonita," and all the guys in the next room quieted down to saying nothing when I sang it. I guessed they'd like songs with Spanish lyrics but I didn't know too many.

Then a woman from Ireland was thrown in with me. I believe she was from Northern Ireland, traditional Irish Catholic. She was very chatty and spirited, and had been making her 7th attempt to see her children. She had married a man in Canada but because she never filed papers or got status as a citizen, when they divorced she was deported as a non-citizen and her husband got to keep all the kids because they'd been born in Canada.

The mother was ousted, from her own children. Desperate, she flew back against orders to see them, and was then thrown in jail. She had made several attempts to go back and see them, because she wanted them to know their mother loved them, and not once did any of the immigration lawyers tell her about a legal provision she could file for, on humanitarian grounds. Instead, for over 7 years she'd been repeatedly jailed, once going to jail for over a year and a half prior to her visit with me.

We got McDonalds for lunch. We had a choice of hamburger or chicken sandwich. It came with fries and a coke. I really appreciated the American food and thought it was nice that McDonalds donated to immigrants. Noted. I had the chicken sandwich.

So finally I asked if I could use a phone to call for a private lawyer and they said yes. I hadn't been able to use the phone at the detention center as I didn't have the phone number or phone book. So at the hearings place, I still didn't have a phone book for back in Penticton area, just that area. I was isolated from the lawyer who had first given me advice.

Not to mention, and it's worth mentioning, when they took my son from me, I asked that I be able to talk to a lawyer first, before they separated us and sent my son back to the U.S., and Russ Radi refused.

So I called private attorneys in the local area and they said they might like to help me, but without payment, they didn't know what to do. They said I should try going with the immigration lawyers and said some of them were good. I doubted that, but I didn't have any options. I was stuck with an immigration attorney, even though I had made countless attempts to get in touch with the lawyer I knew.

And, of course, I was railroaded and I will tell you how: