A morning with migrants along the Texas–Mexico border, as the Biden administration braces for a post–Title 42 surge.
A morning with migrants along the Texas–Mexico border, as the Biden administration braces for a post–Title 42 surge
Del Rio, Texas — The migrants at the Val Verde Border Humanitarian Coalition, an organization located in a small building in Del Rio, Texas, are passing through on their way to “el sueño Americano,” the American dream. VVBHC, as the organization describes it, is “a group of local citizens and agencies” that “transition refugees to their destinations upon release of federal custody through a unified and coordinated effort.”
Border Patrol drops migrants off at the VVBHC center to await transportation to hubs such as San Antonio. VVBHC volunteers also provide meals, snacks, spaces to bathe, and hygienic supplies to migrants as they await transportation. As I sat talking with migrants on Wednesday, two empty buses pulled up. One of the migrants told me they would take them to San Antonio.
Migrants arrive here after being processed by Border Patrol and given their documents. These are migrants who crossed the border and immediately turned themselves in, claiming asylum. Despite the federal government’s continual use of Title 42 — a pandemic-related restriction on migration — asylum claims processed under Title 8, the standard procedure for illegal migration, are trending higher than ever. The Mexican government will not take back many family units with young children, which accounts for some Title 8 recipients. It’s not clear why so many single adults also avoid Title 42.
The migrants who spoke to me explained why they made the journey, the dangers they faced, and their expectations once in America. The scene and their accounts reflect an impending reality: The border traffic is only going to get heavier.
Since the beginning of 2022, Title 8 encounter rates have outpaced those of the past four years, according to Customs and Border Protection. With the Biden administration slating the end of Title 42 for May, Title 8 numbers are expected to skyrocket, overwhelming Border Patrol with asylum requests.
Title 8 Encounters
I spent my first 20 minutes at the center speaking with Jorge and Michel, two Cuban migrants waiting for their wives to be released from the Border Patrol detention center in Del Rio (it appeared that women and men were processed separately). Their children were back in Cuba: “They don’t have papers.”
Jorge said he was pursuing “el sueño Americano.” A veterinarian by training, he hopes to find similar work in the U.S. He said his wife is a physical therapist. “One of the best,” he told me in Spanish.
As we continued our conversation, a bus pulled up in front of the facility, dropping off more than 40 adult men. Jorge and Michel were hoping their wives would be on the bus but said they weren’t too worried — the women would be released as well.
Migrants arriving at the Val Verde Border Humanitarian Coalition. They'll be released into the interior to await their asylum hearings in various parts of the country: pic.twitter.com/0WM0Lg7oaJ
— Carine Hajjar (@carinemhajjar) April 13, 2022
The men were given snacks and bags with toothbrushes and other toiletries. Many went to outdoor sinks to wash their faces while others came to sit down at the picnic benches where I talked with Jorge.
Despite the 85-degree heat, Jorge offered me his water bottle as the men shared their stories. Like Jorge, all of them were coming to America to work, many hoping to send money home to their families. Home was Cuba, Venezuela, Nicaragua, Peru, Colombia, even China. They shared the stories of their travels, many arriving by a mix of walking, hitchhiking, motorcycling, taking buses, and even riding horses.
Those who went through the “selvas,” or jungles, of South and Central America reported horrific stories of women being raped by gang members and “indios,” the indigenous peoples. “They traffic so many people,” one of the men told me. “Everyone, even pregnant women.” Smugglers in the Panamanian jungle left women to drown in the river, they said.
They all shared stories of extensive extortion, noting that even Mexican officials forced them to pay up if they passed through government processing. “They’re all corrupt,” someone added.
These men were released from Border Patrol custody as part of the Department of Homeland Security’s (DHS) Alternative to Detention (ATD) program. Under Title 8, migrants awaiting asylum hearings are supposed to be detained by DHS. However, with detention spaces completely packed, many are being released on “parole” as they await their court dates. Under the Immigration and Nationality Act, Congress gives DHS the power to
parole into the United States temporarily, under conditions the Secretary may prescribe, on a case-by-case basis for urgent humanitarian reasons or significant public benefit, any noncitizen applying for admission to the United States, regardless of whether the person is inadmissible to, or removable from, the United States.
Jorge told me that after he crossed the Rio Grande, he and his companions turned themselves in to “La Guardia.” “They take you to a detention center and . . . give you your documents . . . food, medicine. They take care of you.” He said this whole process took five or six hours. Then he and Michel were dropped off at VVBHC.
Others complained of their treatment. One migrant said that they were only given these small packaged burritos for breakfast, lunch, and dinner:
One migrant from Venezuela told me that this is what border patrol gives them to eat “breakfast, lunch, and dinner” while they were being processed for release pic.twitter.com/JdX8BT38h0
— Carine Hajjar (@carinemhajjar) April 13, 2022
All the men at VVBHC had orange envelopes with a packet of papers, including their parole document, court dates, and instructions for GPS monitoring.
One migrant showed me his papers. With the parole document, printed only in English, he told me, they’re allowed to use air travel around the U.S.:
Under ATD, migrants agree to “GPS monitoring.” I’ve heard that some migrants were being given ankle bracelets. This day, however, each has a new smartphone equipped with GPS tracking and the following instructions, which on following pages were translated into six languages:
Under ATD, migrants are assigned to courthouses across the country, depending on where they tell Customs officials they are going.
In this way, the system relies on migrants’ personal connections within the Unites States. Many said they had family or friends in different parts of the country. One Venezuelan migrant showed me a crinkled piece of paper with an address in Houston on it. He had friends there and asked how long it would take for him to reach the city.
For those without connections, life after the few hours at VVBHC center can be a harrowing gamble. One Venezuelan migrant was particularly upset. His brother was deported back to Mexico the previous night when he mistakenly showed U.S. officials his Mexican humanitarian visa. Though he didn’t explain why this is the case, I assume that once migrants are issued the visa, U.S. officials can claim that migrants have already received asylum elsewhere. Most migrants throw them in the Rio Grande before crossing.
This particular Venezuelan migrant has no connections within the U.S. “I don’t have anyone to receive me,” he said. “I don’t have family. I don’t have anything here.”
“I came to work for a better future for my wife, for my daughters,” he told me in Spanish. “They are in Venezuela.” He said he wanted to send money back. “Finding work [in Venezuela] is very difficult.”
He told Border Patrol he wants to go to New York City. One of the migrants around us exclaimed, “It’s so expensive!” Another told him to ask for help at a church.
“[Border Patrol] asked me where I wanted to go, and I said New York. . . . They didn’t tell me about any churches, any refuges, nothing.” He showed me his “papeles.” His court date is slated for later this month in a New York courthouse.
Before I left, this migrant showed me a picture of himself with his wife and young daughter. He asked me how much it costs to get to New York.