A heavy jail door marks the entrance to the Bradenton immigration court — the courtroom shares a building with a penitentiary, and illegal immigrants have to wait in groups outside the door for everyone to be searched before their fates can be decided. Elvira Penaloza was first in line today — as the barred door slid open she took a deep breath, crossed herself, and stepped into the hallway. This was her third trip to court. Elvi had expected to be deported at both of the previous hearings, but had twice been granted a continuance. This time, she hoped, would be different. This time they might tell her she could stay.
The Planet told the first chapter of Elvi's story in December. She came to St. Petersburg from Bolivia on Christmas Day, 1999, with her then 8-year-old son, Mael, who was sick with aplastic anemia. He had been on his deathbed, his parents unable to pay for his care, when Elvi found a woman who knew a pediatric hematologist at St. Petersburg's All Children's. The hospital agreed to treat Mael for free. Though she didn't know English and had just $20 in her pocket, Elvi created a life for herself and her child. They moved into the Ronald McDonald House, endearing themselves to the staff so completely that house director Donna Young contacted Children's Wish Inc. to fly Elvi's husband, Felipe, and their two other children to St. Pete.
She and Felipe saved enough money to buy a house. She guided her kids through American schools, and stood by Mael while he battled the disease that was poisoning his blood. She was at his bedside the night he died. And when she woke up the next morning, the medical deferment on her immigration status was over. Just like that, she was an illegal. Two and a half years after Mael's death immigration services tracked her down, and she was put into deportation hearings.
Since then, Elvi has been entangled in the complicated maze that is this country's immigration system. Because they did not come into the U.S. together, Elvi and Felipe have separate cases. Felipe, after being sponsored by a construction company in St. Pete, is in the process of getting a Green Card. Elvi, meanwhile, is in the process of being deported.
On Dec. 22, the Department of Labor approved the first stage of Felipe's green card application. It was a huge step — he was in the system now. But there are two more hurdles to pass: An initial approval from Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), then a multi-year wait for a green card number. Since 9/11, the backlog on these numbers has been humungous — it's become harder and harder for immigrants to attain legal status in this country. Congress is considering a bill to expand the system and make more openings available, but until that happens, Felipe will have to wait for as many as five years before the final stage can be approved.
If he gets his green card, his family, including Elvi, will be legal. But until that happens, or her deportation case is dismissed, Elvi will be forced to continue to fight in court for the right to stay in America.
"OK folks," said Judge R.K. McHugh as he walked into the small courtroom, his flowing black robe standing out against the white, cinderblock walls. "Everybody take a seat." The ICE attorney, Manny Ramirez, slumped in his chair as he leafed through one of the many folders on his desk. Elvi sat across the room, bouncing her legs slightly under the table. There were three likely outcomes for this third hearing in immigration court: Elvi could be asked to "voluntarily exit," which would not blemish her record but carry with it a 10-year ban from the United States. Her case could be continued as it had been the previous two times; she would have to come back in four months for another hearing. Or her case could be dismissed. If that happened, she wouldn't be legal — she couldn't work, for example — but the deportation process would end. She'd be allowed to stay in St. Petersburg while Felipe waited for his green card — the family's only hope of staying in the country permanently — without the fear of being forced to go back to Bolivia.
In light of the progress made with Felipe's application, Elvi's attorney, Jennifer Roeper, had filed a motion for this third option. She explained the circumstances and McHugh responded that Ramirez would have to agree before the case could be dismissed. The judge peered over at the ICE attorney. "We object," Ramirez said, his eyes fixed on the papers covering his desk. The state still wanted Elvira Penaloza out of the country. Ramierez's motivations are unclear: Several calls to him for comment were not answered.
"I'm very sympathetic to your case," McHugh told Elvi. "But unfortunately, my hands are somewhat tied." Immigration judges don't have the broad powers to resolve matters that their counterparts in federal or state court do, leaving Elvi's fate as much in the hands of the government as in McHugh's.
The proceedings took less than five minutes, ending with the judge's decision to grant another continuance, his only option aside from sending Elvi back to Bolivia. She will return to the Bradenton court on May 11 to have her fate argued once again. "I would certainly look to your congressman," McHugh told Roeper. With the support of a politician, he was implying, Felipe's green card could be fast-tracked, and Elvi's saga in court could end.
Roeper had contacted Congressman Bill Young months before, but got no response. (The Planet also did not get a call back from his Washington office.) But Roeper would try again, she said, and look for other congressmen who might be willing to lend an ear.
"I was thinking maybe they can stop, close my case," Elvi said as she walked through the open jail door. "But the attorney says 'No.' Why?"
"There's no sympathy at all," Roeper said under her breath. "I just don't understand it."
For all that she has been through, Elvira Penaloza has had amazing luck in this country. She found a hospital that would treat her boy, free of charge. She found people who could bring the rest of her family here. She found a lawyer from a powerful Tampa firm willing to take her case pro bono. And yet, with so many more breaks than most people in her situation, Elvi hasn't found what they all want: the comfort of being legal.
"Illegals, we walk on … needles," Elvi says, her fingers dancing out in front of her. "Last year, we didn't go anywhere. Anywhere. Not The Pier. Not Busch Gardens. If the tourists are there, the police are there … then we stay home."
Such is the life of an alien in limbo. Though she is in court proceedings, Elvi isn't willing to risk an encounter with a cop that might antagonize the judge or ICE. And Felipe, despite his green card application, is still subject to deportation himself. Their fear is constant.
So Elvi and Felipe continue to stay home, continue to stay away from any situation that might jeopardize their status. Yet they remain optimistic — they've hoped for too long to stop now.
"Well," Elvi said as she left the court building, "we've got four more months." Four more months.
This article appears in Jan 18-24, 2006.