Betrayal at the Border: A Zachary Blake Legal Thriller, #7

Chapter One

Freeze! Emilio Gonzalez shouted with glee. He and his big sister, Emma, were playing outside in the small backyard of their Lincoln Park, Michigan home. The game was a version of tag, a game they played together since Emilio could walk. This version was inspired by Frozen, their all-time favorite movie.

Emma was nine; Emilio was seven. While both were quite athletic, Emma was a much faster runner and on the school soccer team. Emilio looked up to her, so these rare moments of triumph were quite satisfying to the little boy.

It was an unusually hot late summer in the Detroit metropolitan area. The kids spent most of the day in the house, watching videos—primarily Frozen, which they watched repeatedly. Since daylight savings time extended summer days, the kids were permitted to go outside after supper. On this particular evening, they played as if they were released from ‘time out,’ filled with joy and excitement, as well as the pleasure of each other’s company.

Emma loved the game and wanted to play it all the time; Emilio was less enthusiastic. After all, Freeze not only demonstrated Emma’s physical superiority, it also required Emilio to play a girl, whether Elsa who froze her big sister, or Anna who got frozen. Emilio played because he loved playing any game with his big sister.  As a condition of the game, Emma had to promise not to tell any of their friends—it had to be their secret. If his school friends found out, they would never stop teasing him.

The game was the siblings’ favorite movie version of Tocaito, an old Venezuelan game their mother taught them. In Tocaito, one player touches the other, who immediately becomes a statue. After seeing Frozen, Emma and Emilio recognized the movie’s parallels to the themes of Tocaito. They changed the traditional game to Freeze to honor the movie. If, for instance, Emilio touched Emma, instead of becoming a statue, she became frozen. Emma would have to stay that way until Emilio chose to unfreeze her.

This activity resulted in some tense moments between the siblings because Emma was bigger and faster than her younger brother. Consequently, Emilio was frozen almost all the time and would quickly tire of the game. Loving the game and being a good big sister, Emma often let Emilio freeze her, just to watch the joy and excitement the little boy would exhibit every time he caught her. She loved her little brother. He was her best friend, and she was fiercely protective of him. However, sometimes she could not help being competitive.

Freeze! She tagged him right back and began backpedaling away.

You can’t do that! Emilio cried. You were frozen! How can you tag someone when you’re frozen? The boy had a point.

Because you can. We are playing by Mama’s rules, remember? Emma was conveniently applying the rules of Tocaito her mother taught them so many years ago. Or, perhaps, she was making up her own new rules, an annoying habit Emilio began to notice as he got older.

That’s cheating! Emilio pouted, folding his arms across his chest and furrowing his brow. "That’s a different game. That’s Tocaito!"

No, it’s not. I can freeze you back. We didn’t say what the rules were, so I can make them up as we go along, Emma rationalized her behavior, out of breath from backpedaling. 

I quit! Emilio snarled, tears forming in his eyes. You’re a cheater! He stomped his feet, turned, and headed toward the house.

Wait, Emilio, wait! We’ll play your way, Emma conceded.

Emilio turned—his angry demeanor instantly joyful.

Emma liked bending the rules. Rules were boring to her. She wanted to play games ‘Emma style,’ making up rules as she went along. Even when someone else taught Emma a game, she liked challenging and changing rules. She thought games were much more fun played her way. Her brother was willing to tolerate this occasionally, but her friends were not, evident by how little they asked her to play.

Emma once held the unofficial monkey bar record at school. One day, she noticed her friend, Amanda, going back and forth on the bars as her friends counted out loud. Amanda was getting close to Emma’s record.

Emma ran to the monkey bar on the opposite end of Amanda, jumped up, grabbed hold of the bar with both hands, and headed in Amanda’s direction. The two girls met in the middle.

Get out of the way! Amanda shouted in a panic. I was here first!

You get out of the way, Emma countered. I was here second.

Amanda lifted one of her hands off the bar and tried to reach behind Emma to pass her. Emma arched her backside forward, forcing Amanda to lose her grip and fall off the bars.

That’s cheating, Amanda cried. I was going to beat your record!

But you didn’t, Emma teased. If at first you don’t succeed . . .

I’m telling Miss Brooks, Amanda interrupted. Miss Brooks was the playground supervisor. When Miss Brooks heard and confirmed the story, she took away Emma’s record and gave it to Amanda. Emma was not happy.

She has to beat me! Everyone knows she didn’t beat me, Emma argued.

You have to follow the rules, Emma. And you need to be a good sport. If Amanda can’t beat you fair and square, that’s one thing, but you can’t cheat to prevent her from beating you, Miss Brooks ruled.

Rules are for losers, Emma insisted. To beat me, she has to beat me!

"But you cheated and prevented her from beating you. That’s not fair. In America, we play by the rules," Miss Brooks explained.

Emma learned a hard lesson that day, but with Emilio, she could digress once in a while. He might get angry with her from time to time, but she would never lose his love.

Maybe there’s a reason for rules. Maybe Miss Brooks was right—Emilio may stop playing with her too if the game isn’t fair.

The children continued to play until the sun went down. They were red-faced and sweaty when Mama called them into the house. Mama asked who won the game because the winner got the first bath or shower. Contrary to her nature, Emma declared Emilio the winner, a declaration that caused the little boy to shout with glee. He ran off to the bathroom.

The Gonzalez children were both born in Lincoln Park. The city was a part of the Downriver Community, southwest of Detroit. Their little three-bedroom bungalow was the only home they had ever known. In a city of approximately 37,000, only 20% were of Latino descent, nearly a 50% increase since 2010.

Emma and Emilio’s parents, Mary Carmen and Miguel Gonzalez, immigrated to Lincoln Park in 2011 when Mary Carmen was pregnant with Emma. Papa found a job, mixing compounds at an adhesive and filler plant in nearby Riverview. Emma was born soon after her parents moved into the house. Two years later, her little brother was born.

When they were old enough to be placed in daycare, Mama secured a job at the same filler plant as her father. The two siblings depended on each other. They were attached at the hip until Emma was old enough to go to Kindergarten. It was a very traumatic time for Emilio. He started behaving as if his sister died.

Emma promised to play with him after school, but Emilio carried on to the point where Emma pushed back and refused to go to school. Promises of candy and ice cream after Mama got home from work finally persuaded both children to go separate ways. As time went on, they adapted to the new routine.

Two years later, Emilio started Kindergarten, and all was forgotten—the siblings were reunited at Raupp Elementary School. Both children spoke fluent Spanish and English and did well in school. The children were now entering fourth and second grade, respectively, and thriving.

The Gonzalez children made friends easily and were well-liked in the school. Emma and Emilio were Americans. Although Mama taught them Venezuelan games and customs and tried to convey a sense of their Latino heritage, the kids had experienced life in no other country but America. They spoke fluent English, celebrated the Fourth of July and Thanksgiving, and proudly recited the Pledge of Allegiance. Emma collected dolls while Emilio collected baseball cards—he worshipped Miguel Cabrera of the Detroit Tigers and treasured his 2012 Cabrera Triple Crown card. Emma and Emilio did everything other American children did.

Their parents were determined to raise them in America, with American values and an American education. They dreamt of a better life, with higher education and, perhaps, affluence for their children. But these dreams were clouded by a secret reality—the Gonzalez family, as ‘American’ as they appeared, protected an important family secret, far more important than the Frozen game. This one could derail all of their dreams.

Emma and Emilio were taught to be careful and quiet, even though they didn’t understand why this was a big deal. But they knew Mama and Papa feared their secret would one day be discovered. Their parents’ fear was so intense; Emma and Emilio were frightened too.

Emma was conflicted. Mama once taught her that telling and keeping secrets was bad. She shouldn’t tease her little brother by telling him she knew something he didn’t know. She shouldn’t keep things from her friends, and, most of all, she shouldn’t keep any secrets from Mama and Papa. So, why was this secret okay?

Mama carefully explained the delicate situation to her children: She and Miguel came into the country legally but stayed longer than they were welcome. As a result, Mama and Papa were not citizens and did not have the protection some of their friends’ parents had. They could be picked up by the police at any time, put in jail, and even sent back to Venezuela, where conditions were terrible, especially for people who ran away and were later returned by government mandate. It didn’t matter if their minor children were citizens. If the family secret were discovered, her mother decried, it could mean hasta la vista, forever.

The threat of permanent separation from her parents terrified Emma. A secret preventing her from losing them, perhaps forever, was one worth keeping. Emilio was too young to understand, but Emma made him pinky swear to silence. 

After their initial, ominous disclosure, Miguel and Mary Carmen consistently reminded their children of the importance of secrecy. Emma and Emilio were expected to keep it, no ifs, ands, or buts. Miss Brooks taught Emma that breaking the rules was unacceptable and had consequences. Emma was punished for preventing Amanda from breaking her record. But was it okay for Mama and Papa to break the rules? Of course, it’s okay! We want to stay here in America!

Emma didn’t appreciate this at the time, but her family’s furtiveness about their immigration status explained her negative feelings about rules. She decided at a very young age that rules were made to be broken. What sense did it make to send people back to a country that didn’t want them and would harm them if they returned? If those are the rules, they need to be changed.

As Emma got older, she noticed things that provided a better understanding of her parents’ fear. After dinner, her parents often watched the evening news. Emma witnessed people protesting at the southern border to Mexico and heard phrases like ‘send them back’ and ‘build the wall.’ Video footage of arrests, family separations, and kids in cages was heartbreaking. Emma was a free American like her friends and neighbors, but she would never be free of worry that her parents might be captured. Mainstream media considered families like hers ‘undocumented.’ Over time, Emma understood the reason why her parents broke the rules and kept the family secret. Because Miguel and Mary Carmen were undocumented, they couldn’t travel, not even across the northern border into Canada from Detroit, so they never took vacations. Emma and her family never went anywhere.

While Emma understood, she was still slightly conflicted. She learned about crime in school. People who did bad things went to jail. It was ‘illegal’ to steal, to hurt someone, and to drink and drive. Mama and Papa didn’t do any of those things. They obeyed every American rule. They were decent people, good neighbors, and solid citizens. How could they be criminals?

Mama and Papa’s citizenship status was not a subject of conversation in the community. Few people knew they were undocumented because while some people embraced immigrants, others tried to make their lives difficult. Landlords were encouraged not to rent to ‘foreigners,’ and employers were encouraged not to hire them. Some communities attempted to block immigrant access to jobs, housing, education, and healthcare, a coordinated strategy to prevent large numbers from moving into those communities or neighborhoods. Citizens didn’t want ‘brown people’ swooping in and taking their jobs. Other communities embraced immigration and thrived because hard-working immigrants started businesses, worked for other citizens or independently, provided childcare service, housekeeping, or odd repair jobs.

One evening, after dinner, the newsman said President Golding was considering a series of raids on immigrants in targeted areas around the country. One of the areas mentioned was Detroit. Golding said it was time to ‘deport the undocumented in fairness to those who enter our country legally and obey our laws.’ Did those people complain or something? Emma pondered.

Mama, what does ‘deport’ mean? Emma asked inquisitively after the newscast ended.

"It means people who are here without proper papers might get sent back to the country they came from, hija," Mary Carmen advised.

What does ice have to do with it? Emma glanced at the refrigerator.

Pardon me?

They talked about ice on television.

Mary Carmen looked at the refrigerator and smiled. "They weren’t talking about ice from the fridge, hija; they were talking about immigration policemen. ICE stands for Immigration and Customs Enforcement, I—C—E. Get it?"

"What does this ICE do?"

They find people who are here without proper papers. If people can’t prove they are citizens or have a right to be citizens, they get sent back to the country they came from.

Can that happen to you and Papa? Do you have these proper papers? Are you and Papa criminals, Mama?

"That’s a difficult question to answer. Papa and I came to this country a long time ago. We arrived legally and followed all of the rules, but our papers expired before we could become citizens. We were supposed to go back to Venezuela, but you were just a baby, and it was dangerous back home. Here in America, Papa had a good job; we had a nice home, and lots of friends and relatives in the area. We couldn’t possibly go back to the old country.

We decided to stay and try to work out our paper problem later. As the years went by, the government made it more difficult for us to become citizens. We were caught in a trap. We weren’t supposed to stay, but we couldn’t go back, either.

"What are you going to do? The newsman on television says ICE is coming to Detroit."

I don’t know, sweetheart. Papa says everything will be okay. Maybe they won’t come to Lincoln Park. Maybe they will only come to Detroit. All we can do is hope and pray.

From now on, I’ll say a special prayer at bedtime, Mama.

"Oh, Emma, thank you! That makes me feel so much better. I’m positive God will listen to you. You are my special little girl!"

Emma almost burst with pride. She would pray extra hard tonight. Mama and Papa were counting on her.

***

The Gonzalez family continued to live their lives as if there was no threat to their safety or freedom. What choice did they have? President Golding and ICE made good on their threats to communities in Texas, Mississippi, Arizona, California, and Florida, but raids had not yet happened in Detroit. However, everything changed in mid-September, the second week of school.

Reporters interrupted evening programming to announce ICE raids on businesses and manufacturing plants in Detroit and surrounding communities. Emma was horrified. She was convinced ICE would walk into Mama and Papa’s plant or, worse, break into their home and take her parents away, right before her eyes. She implored Mary Carmen and Miguel to stay home from work and hide or get in the car and drive away. She didn’t care where they went, provided they went somewhere where ICE was not grabbing people off the streets and taking them away.

Miguel tried to soothe his daughter. He told her everything was under control at the plant. The people he worked for would take care of them. They were ready if ICE agents came. People called lawyers were waiting by the telephone. They knew immigration law better than anyone and would protect Miguel and Mary Carmen.

We are good citizens. We work hard, contribute to the economy, and pay our taxes, Miguel explained. Emma understood only the ‘work hard’ and ‘good citizen’ parts of his explanation. He’s not a citizen, though, she reasoned, with maturity beyond her years. That’s the problem!

Of course, none of Miguel’s assurances were true. Miguel and Mary Carmen were undocumented. They had a small savings account and too little money to hire expensive lawyers to fight deportation. If ICE raided the plant, there was little the Gonzalez family or any other similarly situated family could do to prevent the consequences. They couldn’t run, and they had no place else to go. If they did decide to run, without their jobs, they would soon run out of money. They knew the day would come when their freedom would be threatened, but they hoped it would be later than sooner, perhaps after some type of amnesty program was introduced for people in their situation.

The following day, Miguel and Mary Carmen kissed their children goodbye and put them on the school bus. They pre-arranged with their pastor and members of their church to monitor the situation and make sure the kids were picked up and housed if anything happened at the plant. The church rallied to their side, offering the children room and board, if necessary. The couple watched and waved as the bus disappeared down the street. Emma and Emilio sat at the back window, waving, watching their parents disappear.

Will we see each other again? Miguel wondered, his eyes tearing as the bus drove away. 

Mis hijos! Mary Carmen cried, clutching her husband, burying her face in his chest. What will become of them?

The couple embraced for a few precious moments. Finally, they separated and walked to the car.

Chapter Two

Canan and Karim Izady were naturalized citizens of the United States. They were from Kurdistan and citizens of Syria. The Izadys fled their home country in 2014 when ISIS launched an offensive on the Kurdish city of Kobani. While their parents and religious elders arranged their marriage, Canan and Karim had already been a couple for years and were deeply in love.

Leaving their home was not easy, despite constant conflict and human suffering. Immigrating and obtaining citizenship was a grueling process. Still, the couple was determined to have children in a free country, one without the daily fear of conflict everywhere. Shortly after they left Kurdistan and arrived in Detroit, the President of the United States implemented a travel ban of Muslims from Syria. The couple’s relatives were now trapped in Syria.

Canan and Karim were alone in America. They settled in Dearborn, west of Detroit, home to the largest concentration of Muslim American citizens in the United States. The couple persevered, made new friends, and, against all odds, applied for citizenship. Karim was an engineer of some renown—his influence and affluence paid off. The couple was fast-tracked to an EB-1 First Preference Visa, permanent residence status, and, finally, citizenship, thanks to Marshall Mann, immigration lawyer extraordinaire and partner at the prestigious Bloomfield Hills Law Offices of Zachary Blake. Blake’s firm was referred by Imam Ghaffari of the Mosque of America.

The couple celebrated their good fortune at a fancy downtown Detroit hotel. Exactly nine months later, their daughter, Hana, was born, a happy consequence of that celebration. Hana was a United States citizen, a birthright granted by the 14th Amendment to the Constitution.

Kurdistan is not a country; it is a cultural community that spans several countries. After the fall of the Ottoman Empire and post-World War I, the Sykes-Picot Agreement and, eventually, the Treaty of Lausanne, split the region and drew borders between Turkey, Syria, Iraq, and Iran. Since the original agreement and subsequent treaty did not establish a Kurdish homeland, this left Kurdish people straddled at the borders of each country, essentially, a people without a country.  Today, there are approximately forty million Kurds scattered between the four countries. Primarily because they are a people without a country, Kurds have often suffered attacks, genocide, and massacres at the hands of oppressive regimes in each of the countries they call home. Throughout the years, Kurds have attempted to form their own regional governments, with their own army and rulers. In twenty-first century Kobani, Syria, the Kurds lived in relative peace. In 2003, they formed the Democratic Union Party, which took hold and spread rapidly among the Syrian Kurdish population. In 2011, the so-called Arab Spring reached Kobani, which resulted in the withdrawal of Syrian military forces in the region. Ironically, that is when the trouble began.

The Kurdish government was a bit more progressive than its neighbors. Political groups supported women’s rights, environmental common sense, education, health care for its citizens, and diplomatic relationships with other countries. They forged a Social Contract which separated ‘state’ from ‘religion,’ banned underage marriages, recognized human rights for women and children, banned female circumcision and polygamy, prohibited discrimination, and declared men and women equal under the law. These were all positive developments for Canan and Karim Izady.

But when Syria withdrew its troops and civil war broke out in the country, President Assad of Syria left the border open to terrorist organizations. He did this, in part, to quell the uprising of citizens protesting oppression and the lack of social justice in Syria. Low income, a high cost of living, rampant unemployment, and even homelessness plagued the Syrian people.

While internal conflicts and petty political disputes contributed to the demise of peace, ISIS forces attacked Kobani in the fall of 2014. Kobani was strategically located near pipelines and provided supply routes to the Turkish border. As such, it was a prime target for ISIS. It was also a vital city to defend, and the Kurds and multiple allies endeavored to do just that. As a result, a brutal war broke out. In the beginning, it appeared the city would fall under ISIS control, but United States air strikes slowed the siege.

In the meantime, close to 200,000 people fled Kobani and surrounding areas. Most found their way to shelters and refugee camps. Like Canan and Karim, the more affluent found their way to America and a new life in the land of the free. Over time, Kurdish forces and its allies managed to retake control of most of the region. By 2015, the city, although severely damaged, was free of ISIS control.

Recently, the United States government considered a full withdrawal of troops in the region. This terrified Canan and Karim because they still had loved ones in the region. They wanted to travel to Kobani with Hana so the child could meet her extended family and, perhaps, to arrange for relatives to travel back with them to America. All reports indicated it was currently safe to travel to the region.

The trip was arranged, but, at the last minute, a crisis at work prevented Karim from traveling abroad. He decided to cancel the trip, which devastated Canan. She had spoken to her mother and grandmother, and all were excited about the reunion. This was to be her grandmother and great-grandmother’s first time meeting their precious Hana. She insisted on taking the trip. Perhaps Karim could join them later. Karim protested vehemently, but his wife was an American woman and would not be dissuaded. They reached a compromise. Karim reluctantly consented to the trip, provided his family traveled through Syria accompanied by Karim’s long-time friend and a former soldier, who would act as a guide and a bodyguard, protecting Canan and Hana from harm.

As Karim Izady drove his family to Detroit Metropolitan Airport in Romulus, he could not shake the feeling of dread he felt from the moment he agreed to the trip. Even with his long-time friend, Avi Baran, meeting them in Syria and guarding them throughout their visit, he could not shake the feeling. He knew it was useless to protest. He enjoyed life in America and appreciated American-style freedom. That style included a strong, independent, and free-thinking wife. A part of him wished, for these moments only, they were a more traditional male-dominated Muslim couple.

They reached the international terminal. As usual, airport traffic was heavy, and Karim had to double-park to the left of a Metro Car parked at the curb. He exited the SUV, walked to the back of the vehicle, and opened the large tailgate. As he unloaded the luggage, Canan unbuckled Hana from her car seat in the back and carried her to Karim. Karim took one look at his beautiful wife and daughter and began to cry.

I love you. Please don’t go, he cried. Immediately, he retracted. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—of course, you should go. Your mother and grandmother deserve to meet this beautiful child. I am just so worried, my love."

"Everything will be fine, my sweet. Avi will take care of us. If conditions on the ground were too dangerous, Avi would have warned us not to come. You know how capable he is. Besides, you’ve heard the same reports I have. The city is much safer than it was. ISIS has been defeated, and America is