The Bridge Guardian | Translation

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 The following English translation was generated with the assistance of artificial intelligence. 

[Daniel Alarcón]: Hello, ambulant! Today we release the last episode of this season. The next few weeks we’ll be sharing some of the best stories from our archives, but as you listen to this episode we’re already working on the next season, season number 15! And this is only possible thanks to the support of listeners like you. We are a non-profit organization and when you support us, your donation is directly invested in our journalistic work.

That’s why I want to invite you to support us. Help us continue to produce the stories that connect you to Latin America, and to our community. Many people have already done so and we couldn’t be more grateful.

But it is true that these are difficult times. Politically and economically. The world is plagued by simplistic or erroneous narratives about the Latino community, narratives that are only challenged by projects like ours. That’s why any donation counts, no matter if it’s a one-time donation or if you decide to make it on a recurring basis.

Go to radioambulante.org/donate and give us a hand, thank you very much!

Here is the episode.

This is Radio Ambulante, I’m Daniel Alarcón.

For almost twenty years, Raúl Rodriguez dedicated himself to protecting the border between the United States and Mexico. He worked as an immigration officer at the Progreso International Bridge, in southern Texas, and every day started the same way…

[Raúl Rodríguez]: So, you go, you sit at your computer, in your booth, you remove the cone, and the cars are already waiting for you. And you ask them, let’s see, U.S. citizens? That’s the first question.

[Daniel]: Those who have the blue passport, the United States one, show it and cross the checkpoint without a problem.

[Raúl]: If they’re not American citizens, present your document. You look at it… if it’s good or not, at the driver, what they’re bringing.

[Raúl]: In English it’s called playing the cat and mouse game.

[Daniel]: Playing cat and mouse…

[Raúl]: I mean, it’s all a game. You do this, I do that. You have to decipher, be smarter than your opponent.

[Daniel]: The decision whether to inspect or not has to be made quickly.

[Raúl]: In this case, with drugs, with drug trafficking, you don’t have the luxury of spending 30, 20 minutes on the line, you have 45 seconds to make a decision and let them pass.

[Daniel]: When he encountered something that went against the law, Raúl did what was required: denying them entry to the United States or, directly, initiating a deportation process.

[Raúl]: Sometimes you would spend three, four hours per person on a deportation. Well, it’s quite a bit of paperwork, quite a few things you have to do, from taking their fingerprints, taking their photos, taking their statement, and making sure they leave the country.

The tension was considerable. I say it’s a miserable place because nobody wants to do it, but we have to.

[Daniel]: For him it was a duty, one he took very seriously, almost with devotion. Despite the schedules that barely left him time for himself and his family, his job was a patriotic commitment. But one day, without warning, everything he had been guarding… collapsed.

[Raúl]: I struggled a lot to reach that position and to have that job, only to have it taken away from me like that.

[Daniel]: The thing is, without knowing it, throughout his entire life, Raúl had been violating that same law he so fiercely defended.

A brief pause and we’ll be back

[Daniel]: We’re back on Radio Ambulante. Our producer Desirée Yépez continues the story.

[Desirée Yépez]: To understand how Raúl became the target of the law he protected for years, we have to cross the border that separates Texas in the United States from Tamaulipas, Mexico. There, in an adobe house with a dirt floor, Raúl lived the first years of his life.

[Raúl]: We come from humble roots, from farmers. We grew up with what the fields produced, with my seven siblings and, well, my parents, but it was scarce, a very difficult life because food was scarce.

[Desirée]: There was no water or electricity either. His father spent his time between farming, drinking, and gambling. And his mother was a housewife. It was the mid-70s and the economic situation, as well as the climate in that area, was suffocating.

[Raúl]: So during hot weather, we slept outside because it was too much. I didn’t start wearing shoes until I was about five years old.

[Desirée]: It was also around that age that the idea of moving to the other side of the border entered his life. First as a threat.

[Raúl]: Well, I was very restless as a child. To calm me down or to stop me from getting into mischief, they would tell me they were going to send me to the United States. And I would immediately stop, and that was my medicine to not be like that.

[Desirée]: The idea of leaving worried this child who had no idea what lay beyond his ranch. But soon he began to feel it as a sentence, an order that sooner or later he would have to fulfill. And there was a reason: he had been born on the other side.

[Raúl]: Well, they always told me that I was an American citizen. You have to go to the United States and you can’t study in Mexico, the country doesn’t allow it, so you have to leave.

So I was starting to understand a little bit why I had to come to the United States. I didn’t like it, but I knew that someday it would have to happen.

[Desirée]: They told him that when his mother was pregnant with him, she crossed to Brownsville, in Texas, a city less than five kilometers from where they were, and gave birth there. That’s how he got the citizenship that would serve him to make his life far away.

So when he was old enough to start school, in the summer of ’75, Raúl packed his bags and, crying, said goodbye to his entire family. He couldn’t ask many questions, only obey. He was scared, despite going with people he knew. He would live with his aunt, who had migrated to Texas with her American husband and their five children.

When they reached the immigration checkpoint, Raúl presented a card stating that, six years earlier, he had been born in the United States. It was his birth certificate.

[Raúl]: It’s like a little card. And it says everything there with the seal of the state of Texas. Born in the city of Brownsville. And it also has my name, my parents.

[Desirée]: He crossed the bridge without problems. What he found on the other side, at first glance, wasn’t very different from what he knew. It was also countryside, crops, few people, and almost no traffic. But little by little, he began to notice a series of differences that would mark his life on that side of the world. The first piece to be displaced would be that of his family.

[Raúl]: At first, everything was rosy, everything was nice, everyone loved me, they treated me well, but little by little things changed, then came the insults… I was sad all the time. I would sit on the steps behind the house, thinking about when this torture would end. Very lonely because I wasn’t allowed to have anyone, a friendship.

[Desirée]: The language was another problem. Without knowing English, adapting to school wasn’t easy. Also, people looked different. He, dark-skinned, not very tall, with straight hair, didn’t look like the kids at school, who were mostly white, with light eyes and blond hair. They noticed it too and let him know.

[Raúl]: My fights were always because I was the, I was the wetback, the wet back. Because of how I look because that was still used… they would shout names at you or say things to you. I would tell them, why would you treat me differently if we’re of the same nationality? And I would always throw in their faces, I’m an American citizen, even though my skin color is dark, but I always have the same rights as you or any citizen.

[Desirée]: But the feeling almost all the time was that, since he left his parents’ ranch, something inside him was lost. That’s why, every time the school year ended, he would go back to Mexico to spend his vacations. It was a return to his origins. To home. His mother took care of him and pampered him. Plus, there was his grandfather.

[Raúl]: When I would return to my town, I would go with my grandfather, it was more with him, and he was the one who taught me to fish, to hunt, to work.

[Desirée]: With his father, he was rather distant, because he spent his time sleeping during the day, gambling and drinking at night. Raúl didn’t pay much attention to him either, because the hours passed playing with his siblings in the desert.

But when classes started, he had to return to the United States alone. It was a route that became increasingly familiar to him. Leave the ranch, walk a few kilometers down the dirt road, and take the train that would take him to the Progreso International Bridge. There he would find an immigration checkpoint with signs in English and Spanish, with the flags of the United States and Mexico, their respective lanes, and the booths where the agents are.

[Raúl]: As soon as I reached the bridge, my nerves would start, here we go again.

[Desirée]: And it’s because they always detained him.

[Raúl]: They would give me problems, saying you’re not an American citizen. They would take me inside. We’re going to send you back to Mexico and tell us the truth. They wanted to get the truth out of me, according to them that I was a Mexican citizen. They’d say, you’re not American. You don’t look American. Tell us the truth. No, well, I say, if you want to send me back to Mexico, I say, but it’s not my country. I’m telling you I’m an American citizen, I say.

[Desirée]: The interrogations were so frequent that he already recognized the officers.

[Raúl]: I would see them and think, this is the one who’s going to make my life impossible. There was at that time an officer, a woman, quite something, she had a very strong character and she would say things well, the word is called ‘break.’ That is, she wanted to break you, she wanted you to tell the truth.

[Desirée]: The officers didn’t question his document but his appearance. As it almost always happened to him, he got used to that treatment and to responding that, if they needed more information, they should contact his parents. And since the agents had no more arguments, they would let him pass.

Every time he felt discriminated against and harassed in that immigration room, he thought about how differently people could be treated. It was there, in his childhood, that he began to dream of working as an immigration agent.

[Raúl]: The idea of joining immigration was to see if I could make a change in how to treat people, not by their features, but by their documents.

[Desirée]: One day, during one of those interrogations, Raúl told an officer that when he grew up, he wanted to do that job.

[Raúl]: And one of them told me once: the best way to get into immigration is to join the military, they give preference to veterans.

[Desirée]: So he drew up a plan. After finishing school, he would join the army. But now, reflecting and being honest with himself, Raúl confesses to me that what he was really pursuing was something else.

[Raúl]: I had a very restricted life. They didn’t allow me to do much. I wanted to be respected. And that, that’s what caught my attention.

[Desirée]: So as soon as he finished school, at 18 years old, in May ’87, he left his aunt and uncle’s house to pursue his goal. He had everything in order: his social security and his driver’s license, like any other young man in the United States. But he postponed joining the army to work and make money because during one of his visits to Mexico, he met a woman with whom he would start a family.

At the end of the eighties, his first daughter was born in the United States. And, shortly after, in August 1990, when war was declared against Iraq…

[Raúl]: My reaction was to immediately go and sign up, to sign up to join the Army, because I wanted to go to war.

[Desirée]: But in the recruitment process, they realized that his sense of hearing was a bit faulty and denied him entry. It was disappointing. Still, he had to hurry to continue with his life, earning money to support his growing family, which he preferred to established in Mexico. That same year, his second child was born.

[Raúl]: I said, you know what? Since I’m an American citizen. Let him be born in Mexico. I’ll give him my citizenship, and that’s it. I say, there won’t be a problem. And yes, that’s what happened. We had him in Mexico.

[Desirée]: Meanwhile, he worked in a slaughterhouse, in Corpus Christi, on the coast of Texas. There he met someone who would encourage him to change the course of his history.

[Raúl]: And a friend kept insisting: hey, I don’t know why you’re here with me. Since he was older than me, he took on that role as a father. I think he took care of me a lot and wanted me to advance. He says, no, you’re an American citizen, why are you going to be like an immigrant working in a tough job, you can have a better job.

[Desirée]: This friend helped him with a contact within the United States Naval Force, in the Navy, and after treatment for his ears, he was ready to enlist. He started training in 1992 in Florida. Part of what he had to do was gain physical strength, endurance, but also a lot of psychological work.

[Raúl]: I learned to defend myself from people, to know how to speak a little better, to find the words, to not get so angry, to stay calm. I learned a lot in the military.

[Desirée]: After four months, when the course was finished, Raúl was a different person.

[Raúl]: My family didn’t recognize me because I had completely changed from a person with long hair almost down to my waist, to very short hair and a military uniform.

[Desirée]: And with that stability, he brought his children and wife to the United States. For five years, he worked in the Navy. He started cleaning floors, bathrooms, cooking, and gradually climbed up to become a police officer of that Military Force. It was a job that required him to travel a lot, and that absence was felt at home. That’s why, in ’97, he retired from the army, though his marriage ended anyway.

Raúl began working for a private security company, always thinking about getting his dream job. He had kept that information the agent had given him when he was a child and knew that one of the benefits of being a veteran was that government agencies would give him priority for employment. But he had to wait a bit. Finally, three years later, he received the call: they had a position for him.

[Raúl]: They had accepted me at the El Progreso, Texas bridge.

[Desirée]: He was 31 years old. He had made it. They gave him three months to prepare and learn what was necessary to become an immigration agent. He learned about laws, visas, identification review, and in that same training, he met Anita. A woman of Mexican descent who, like him, shared the genuine desire to protect, serve, and give her life to her country. And he fell in love. They united to build a family where both would be willing to enforce the law. This is Anita.

[Anita]: So, for me, the patrol was everything. I used to say my blood is green like the patrollers’.

[Desirée]: To work guarding the border, you have to meet a series of requirements.

[Raúl]: You take a written and verbal exam, then they interview you.

[Desirée]: Like in any job interview, but they asked Raúl some extra questions.

[Raúl]: They asked me, “Hey, why were you born in the United States with Mexican parents?”… Well, I don’t know, I said, ask them.

[Desirée]: The idea is to verify that those who enter the service don’t have criminal records and that they comply with the law. They also can’t have relationships with migrants who don’t have proper documentation. That’s why they subject applicants to an investigation that is, in theory, super rigorous. It’s an inquiry they do on officers every five years where they look at their social circle: relatives, neighbors, friends.

And since they didn’t find anything, Raúl started working as an immigration officer. On his first day at the Progreso bridge, the one he was so afraid to cross when he was a kid, he encountered familiar faces. Although now things were different.

[Raúl]: I saw this person, the lady who gave me a lot of problems when I was little. When I went up to her to introduce myself, I told her I already knew her. “Oh really? How do you know me?” I said, look, since I was a kid passing through here, you were the one who gave me a lot of problems, you caused me a lot of anguish, I tell her, you treated me very badly. She says, “Ahhh, sorry,” and I tell her, “but, you see, today I work alongside you.”

[Desirée]: Already in action, one of his responsibilities was contact with travelers and trying to get as much information as possible in just a few minutes. For this, he developed his own style.

[Raúl]: Everyone has their own strategy, how to conduct interviews. For me, well, I felt I was very chatty, I liked to talk. That worked in making people feel… the public felt a little calmer, not very stressed or nervous, when answering questions.

[Desirée]: This feeling of trust made them speak honestly to him, and this was a point in his favor. His position implied a lot of power: from allowing a tourist to enter the country, granting or denying asylum requests, to detaining and deporting migrants.

And there were times when enforcing the law at any cost didn’t go well. Raúl can’t forget when, one night, a young man tried to cross from Mexico to the United States, where he had already been living, and in the interview, he confessed something to Raúl

[Raúl]: He gained a lot of trust with me because I didn’t scold him, just chatting. “What did you go to Mexico for?” “Well, my grandmother died.” And he started to gain confidence, and said, “Let me tell you the truth: I’m not an American citizen.” The young man was in high school, he was going to graduate that year. I told him, “Well, you know what? I’m going to have to, I’m going to have to send you back.”

[Desirée]: That night, Raúl led the process for the boy, who was a minor, to return to Mexico. What he didn’t imagine was that, the next morning, they would find his body floating in the river.

[Raúl]: It hurts me. To this day it hurts me a lot.

[Desirée]: When he relives stories like that, I can almost see how a knot forms in his throat. He pauses. Breathes deeply and there he can’t hold back a couple of tears. Then he confirms what he will repeat to me several times. That this is not a job for just anyone.

[Raúl]: I used to tell the officers: “You have to leave your heart at home because you’re going to make some decisions that you don’t want to make, but you have to make them. And it’s going to hurt quite a bit. The job doesn’t forgive. You have to do your duty no matter what.”

[Desirée]: He and his wife, Anita, agreed that the most important thing was the job. Although it isolated them from the world.

[Raúl]: You couldn’t just hang out with anyone, because if they find out that you’re with a person who is illegal or doesn’t have documents, or who is breaking the law, your job depends on that. Friendships are the same ones, they’re from that same branch of immigration, those were all my friends.

[Desirée]: And this became even more challenging for them at the end of 2003, when their first child was born, and would become a bit more complicated when the second one was born. Both working full time at the bridges, with very little mutual support to raise their little ones. This is Anita.

[Anita]: We always worked different hours. It was very rare that we had the same day off. Every day, holidays, anniversaries, birthdays, it was very rare that we were together.

[Desirée]: And despite giving everything for his job, not even the uniform and badges of authority saved Raúl from the doubtful looks and racist comments from his colleagues.

[Raúl]: They called me “the otter” because they said I couldn’t cross legally. When I went to Mexico, well, I had to cross through the river, and everyone knows that the otter is a water rat. They’d say, “You have to come through the river.” And so they called me the otter, that’s what many called me.

[Desirée]: The never ending story, for years. But, with everything, it was a job that paid them well, that they knew how to do, that they had gotten used to, and from which they had learned a lot. For example, when Anita started working in the visa and residency card application area, it occurred to her that Raúl, as a U.S. citizen, could help his younger brother, René, move from Mexico to the United States.

[Anita]: René and his family spent a lot of time with us. Almost every weekend they were here with us. We wanted his family to be here with him and enjoying the country like we were.

[Desirée]: René and his family had tourist visas, so they visited them frequently. But, economically, their situation wasn’t the best and Raúl wanted to help him.

[Raúl]: The only brother who didn’t study and was always very close to me. It bothered me to see him with his jobs, which were always in agriculture, labor, hard jobs, factories. Jobs that were difficult. Well I cared for his children too. Since they were very close to me, I said well bring them here, I’ll help you, and that’s it.

[Desirée]: Raúl, as a U.S. citizen, could process a permanent residency, a green card, for his brother. But this process takes years. Many years. So they initiated it in the mid-2000s and let the process run its course.

Raúl had been waiting for a response from the immigration office about permanent residency for his younger brother for almost a decade. Until one day in April 2018, he arrived at his office, as always…

[Raúl]: Well, that day I arrived before 4:00 PM at my job as usual, took my lunch, got out of my car, walked to the office, and when I arrived at the office I saw the two, the two bosses who were there, whom I knew very well.

[Desirée]: It wasn’t common for the bosses to stay for the afternoon shift. That seemed strange to him.

[Raúl]: And they tell me, “Hey, can we talk to you in the office?” I say, “Okay, yes.” I already said, “Something’s up.” And when I go in there, they hand me one of those big envelopes and tell me to take it out and read it. Well, I opened it, took it out, and read it.

[Desirée]: It was a notification that he was under investigation and that he had to leave his post immediately. That he would soon receive more instructions.

[Raúl]: So, I took off my belt, handed it to them, my badge and my credentials. And they say, “Okay, then,” but I say, “What’s happening, what’s going on?” They say, “We don’t know.” So, they say, “Wait for them to call you.” “Okay, that’s fine.” And it was Friday. So, they tell me to come in on Monday. I never thought it was something bad, because, well, I had never done anything.

[Desirée]: Without knowing what was happening, Raúl went back home. Obviously, he was nervous, but he had no choice but to wait. First thing Monday morning, he went to the office to see if someone could better explain what all this was about. And he found some news.

[Raúl]: They took away my access to everything. I couldn’t do anything, just sit in a little room with a secretary who was there and, I mean, I couldn’t check my email, I couldn’t check anything, I mean, just sit and do nothing. And it was driving me crazy.

[Desirée]: The next day, the same thing; and a couple of days later, the same. Until finally they called him to a meeting.

[Raúl]: It was very dark, very cold, and they put me in a little room, just like in the movies with double glass and there’s nothing. Just a small table and two chairs, and they sit me down and tell me they’re going to put me under oath and read me my rights. “Oh, okay, so this is a little more serious.”

[Desirée]: Once settled in what clearly would be an interrogation, one of the officers asked the first question: “Raúl, do you know why you’re here?”

[Raúl]: I said, “No. To tell you the truth, no, I don’t know, I have no idea.” He pulls out an envelope and puts a birth certificate in front of me and says, “Do you know what this is?” I tell him, “No, honestly, no. I’ve never seen it before. I don’t know what it is.” I said, “I know it’s a birth certificate, but I don’t know whose it is.”

[Desirée]: They ordered him to read it in detail. The answer was there, in the data that appeared printed.

[Raúl]: So, I read it. I saw that my name was there. The names of my parents.

[Desirée]: It was his. But what followed felt like a bullet between his eyes that exploded his brain. Place of birth: Tamaulipas, Mexico.

[Raúl]: He says, “Well, that’s your real birth certificate. You’re Mexican.” And I already felt like all the blood drained from me down to my feet.

[Daniel]: “You’re Mexican”… He said it as if it were a death sentence. And in part it was, because the person he had been up to that moment – or the one they had told him he was – no longer existed.

A pause and we’ll be back

[Daniel]: We’re back on Radio Ambulante. Desirée goes on.

[Desirée]: Upon carefully reviewing the documentation, the investigators in charge of processing the residency for his brother identified that Raúl’s Texas birth certificate had been registered by a midwife who was convicted of fraud. That is, someone hired this woman to process that paper, after he was born in the adobe house in Matamoros.

[Raúl]: It’s a very bad feeling when they tell you news like that, like when they tell you you’re going to die. What do I do now? What am I going to do? Your whole world falls apart.

[Desirée]: He didn’t know what to feel, what to think. That said, he had a clear answer when they asked him if he knew about this. If he had hidden and falsified information during all those years.

[Raúl]: And I tell him, “No, well, no, I didn’t know honestly,” I tell him, “the only way we can know if it’s true or not,” I tell him, “is to call my dad, I say we can call my dad right now,” I tell him, “because I also need to know if he, why they lied to me or why, if it’s true.”

[Desirée]: The agents agreed and Raúl contacted a nephew who lived on the ranch in Mexico to bring his father to the United States. And although the border between Mexico and the United States feels immense due to the migration policy, the distance between one place and another is just about five miles. It wasn’t complicated. They agreed to meet at a cafeteria, where the officers would be.

After about two hours, his father finally arrived.

[Raúl]: So, he sat down and the agents presented him with the same birth certificate. And they say, “What is Raúl to you?” and he says: “He’s my son.” “Okay. Where was your son born?” And he says, “In Brownsville, Texas.” And they showed him the birth certificate. “What is this certificate?” And he says, “Well, it’s fake,” he says, “it’s fake.” I turned and said, “Dad, tell them the truth. I want to know the truth too.” At that moment he bowed his head and said yes, he said, “You were born in Mexico.” The agents asked him, “Did he know?” He says, “No, my son never knew.” Well, I lost everything at that moment.

[Desirée]: All his life Raúl Rodríguez had been an undocumented immigrant defending a country that, at that moment, would not defend him. That rejects those who are like him. His identity as a veteran, as an agent, as a U.S. citizen was built on fraud. Years of work and dreams ended in a few seconds.

Raúl wanted to know why, how, when, who built that lie around his identity. He wanted to know everything. He demanded it.

[Raúl]: My dad removed himself from all blame. He blamed an aunt of mine and my mom. He said that they did everything and he didn’t know. He didn’t realize what, or how, or when. He says, “I don’t know anything. They did the paperwork without me knowing.” He washed his hands and said he didn’t know anything, but that he did know I was born in Mexico.

[Desirée]: His mother died in 2013, about 5 years before that conversation with his father, so he can’t verify what he told him. But Raúl doesn’t believe him.

[Raúl]: My mother didn’t make any arrangements, any processes, any decisions without him. So, for him to have blamed my mother. Well, I think that was not very correct.

[Desirée]: Later, Raúl confronted his aunt and she denied everything. I tried to communicate with Raúl’s father, but I didn’t get a response. And Raúl hasn’t had contact with his aunt for years, so I couldn’t hear her version of the events either.

While Raúl was talking with his father and the immigration agents, Anita was outside the cafeteria, terrified, waiting for her husband. When the meeting ended, she saw them come out…

[Anita]: And my father in law was crying and telling Raúl, “I’m sorry, son, I’m sorry, forgive me, I’m sorry.” And Raúl was crying too and he said, “Well, what can I do, I’ll have to go back to Mexico.” Unfortunately, my father in law took all, all the force of my anger that day. He was to blame at that moment that I was going to lose my husband, my children were going to lose their father, he was going to lose his job, possibly I was going to lose my job too because I’m married to someone who doesn’t have documents. We were going to lose everything we had worked for so many years and had sacrificed so much for and we were going to lose it at that moment.

[Desirée]: The agents assured Raúl that they weren’t going to press charges against him for falsification; but that they would deliver the report to the customs and border control agency where he worked because he couldn’t continue working there since he wasn’t a U.S. citizen.

In the midst of the shock, Anita tried to regain her calm and think of solutions. There was no time to lose and Raúl had to be shielded from the threat of deportation.

[Anita]: And at that moment, like a light bulb went off about what was happening. I told him: “No, no, no, no, no. You’re going home immediately. I’ll meet you there.” I said, “Don’t talk to anyone, don’t sign anything, don’t admit anything. Don’t say anything to anyone.”

[Desirée]: On the way back home, he could only think that life was putting him exactly on the other side of that wall that thousands of people want to cross daily, of that line that marks the fate of thousands of migrants. That line that he thought he had already left behind.

[Raúl]: Of so many people I had deported, I never saw… I never saw that side of what happened after that, until it happened to me. Now it was my turn to live what I had… what many people had gone through.

[Desirée]: Anita began to analyze all the options quickly. As an expert in the immigration service, she knew that perhaps not all was lost because she, being a citizen, could claim the residency card for her husband. But she had to report what was happening.

[Anita]: So, I spoke, I spoke with two supervisors and explained to them what was happening. And one asked me, “You, you didn’t know?” I said, “Well, if he didn’t know, how was I going to know? What do I have to do to not lose my job?”

[Desirée]: They told her she needed to report it to another department. She did so and then went home, with the reassurance that at least she could continue working. As was evident, Raúl wouldn’t be able to return.

When the false birth certificate was discovered, the customs and border security service asked for his resignation. But he refused because doing so, in his words, would be accepting a guilt that wasn’t his.

And strangely for Raúl, while they resolved his work situation, he continued to receive his salary.

[Raúl]: Even though I didn’t show up to work, I was still on the books as an employee. They themselves knew I was illegal and they still continued to pay me. That is, they themselves violated their own laws.

[Desirée]: In August 2019, a little more than a year after he was suspended, Raúl received a letter indicating that his contract had ended. It was a time when life was transformed: Raúl was unable to work, of course, and now they were the ones who had to fill out forms, look for lawyers, and, if they were on the street, avoid the ‘migra’.

[Raúl]: When they took everything away from me, well, I was left in limbo. No documents, nothing. From being in a position of authority, where I basically felt invincible. I mean, I wasn’t afraid of anything. Now to have the fear that there comes a police officer, if he stops me, they’ll run my information, they’ll send me to Mexico, and to hide. I would see a police officer and I would avoid him and go down another street and so on.

[Desirée]: To understand his panic, it’s not enough to know about the migratory context of the United States. Let’s be specific. Raúl lives in Texas, one of the states that most rejects migration. Despite the presence of Latino population, which amounts to more than 40%, discrimination and violence do not go unnoticed, as Anita can attest.

[Anita]: Here in Texas the issue is against Mexicans, it’s against any foreigner. And that kind of thinking, unfortunately, is held by many people here in Texas.

[Desirée]: Nevertheless, he applied for residency as Anita’s husband. But part of that process was an interview where they asked him if in the past he had made a false declaration of U.S. citizenship, or if he had voted in a federal election as an undocumented immigrant. And of course, he said yes, explaining that all this happened because he didn’t know he wasn’t a citizen. The justification wasn’t enough and they denied him residency, despite having an American wife and children.

[Raúl]: When I was about to be deported, when they had already told me they were going to deport me, we told our lawyer if he could file a cancellation of deportation. It was a very difficult process to qualify for because you have to have certain things to qualify for that process. One is that you don’t have a criminal record, that you’ve lived here for more than ten years.

[Desirée]: They also have to prove that the person, if deported, would face many difficulties or risks. Something they could prove, precisely because of the work that Raúl had done for years, confronting people with illegal goods or involved in human trafficking. But like any immigration process, this takes time, money, and patience. In fact, a maximum of 4,000 deportation cancellations are accepted per year in the United States. So little by little, while his turn came, Raúl was adapting to his new life, behind closed doors… and in the midst of a profound crisis.

[Raúl]: Hmm, devastated. I didn’t sleep, no, I was very, very emotionally very bad. I spent time alone, I mean, I didn’t like to be with people, with anyone, very angry with the world, the government, with God.

[Desirée]: While waiting for the news of whether or not they were going to deport him, Raúl took care of the chores: cleaning, cooking, taking care of the children, their animals. At the same time, he was battling a depression that was taking him to very dark places. On one of those desperate days, his wife Anita made a post on Facebook, seeking to find support in some way. Her message reached activist Diane Vega.

[Diane Vega]: I help veterans who are not citizens. It’s very difficult to say exactly what I do because it’s something that’s not normal.

[Desirée]: She was also in the army. When she retired, she went to study Sociology and there, talking to her thesis director, she learned about something that seemed absurd to her.

[Diane]: He told me, “You know what, there are veterans who are deported.” I said, “What? That’s not true. There are veterans who leave. If I could, if I had the money, I would go to another country too.” He says, “No, they’re deported.”

[Desirée]: And the thing is, a detail that perhaps not everyone knows, is that to enlist in the U.S. army you don’t need to be a citizen, but you do need residency. In fact, Mexico is among the main countries of origin of people who later wear the U.S. military uniform. However, this doesn’t guarantee that, after serving the country, they will access citizenship or that, in case of having some legal complication, they won’t be deported to their country of origin.

[Diane]: It doesn’t matter if the veteran was in combat or not in combat. There are veterans they’ve removed from here after they went to Vietnam. The Vietnam War. One of the worst. And when they returned to the United States, they didn’t want them.

[Desirée]: It angered her so much that in 2019 she joined the organization Repatriate Our Patriots, which precisely has the mission of assisting veterans who have already been deported or who are at risk of deportation. Additionally, they offer psychological help and a support network under the motto: “Never leave a fallen comrade behind.” So, when she saw Anita’s Facebook post, she knew she had to contact her.

[Diane]: It’s very difficult when you see someone who works for immigration, deports people, and then they might deport him too. So, I sent a message to Raúl’s partner and I said, “You know what? You’re not alone. And whenever you want to talk, please, here’s my number, let’s talk.”

[Desirée]: This, which might seem minimal, meant a lot to the Rodríguez family. Because Raúl had not only lost his papers, but also his sense of community, of belonging. After 18 years in a place that limited his interaction with people, those who had been his friends stopped being so when they found out he was now undocumented. He was also burdened by this idea of karma, that he was paying for what he himself had done to others. And well, also anger with his family for having lied to him in that way for years.

That’s why Diane’s words were a door to a community he didn’t know existed and in which he could feel integrated, without being judged for his past.

When Diane spoke with Raúl, she found a defeated soldier.

[Diane]: He would tell me: “Ugh, I don’t know, I better go, I better not let my family go through all this.” I told him, “You know what? You’re a soldier, you can’t. The only thing we know how to do is fight and you know what, right now, you’re not alone anymore.”

[Raúl]: And well, since then, we’ve had a beautiful relationship. She calls me from time to time and I call her, I send her messages. “Hey, how are you?”, she would ask us how are you, do you feel good, I mean, she was always aware, she has been a good person to me and to others and helps them morally and sometimes even economically to those who need it.

[Desirée]: And although Diane is no longer part of the organization today, the bond remains, because through her Raúl discovered that there were other people with his same fears. For example, between 2013 and 2018, the United States issued deportation orders to 250 veterans and deported 92. And that’s why Raúl also began to help them, accompany them, while they wait for responses to regularize their immigration status.

That emotional support has been key in an exhausting process with endless paperwork. Once Raúl submitted the request to cancel his deportation, the first response was negative. But he didn’t give up and appealed. And in a second court, he got a surprise. That day, the judge told him:

[Raúl]: She says I can’t believe what this country is doing to you. I mean, I’ve read your file, she says. There’s nothing wrong with your case, with you as a person. Before, you’ve done much more than what’s required of a person. You were in the army, you were with immigration, almost 25 years of service to this country. And for them to have done this to you and to have made you struggle so much, she says… I’m going to do everything, I’m going to do everything right for you and I’m going to grant you residency.

[Desirée]: In November 2022, a year in which the United States deported more than 72,000 people, Raúl, on the other hand, was approved for cancellation of deportation. A triumph amid so many defeats, and recently they gave him a work permit, as part of his regularization process. Now he’s waiting for his green card to arrive, which he hopes will happen this year.

It was a victory. It feels temporary, as no one knows what will happen now that Trump is in power, but something positive after seven years of fear, anguish, and rage. Even so, discovering the truth changed him completely.

[Raúl]: It’s like, yes, they tell you, ah, you’re no longer who you thought you were. I mean, you’re no longer the person you believed yourself to be. In your heart and in your mind, well, you’re confused, right? I don’t know if I’m no longer that person. Who am I?

[Desirée]: And despite having searched for answers everywhere, nobody tells him anything…

[Raúl]: Everyone avoids the topic and my father has completely exiled himself from my life because he doesn’t want to confront the situation or perhaps give me explanations.

[Desirée]: His would not be an isolated case. In the late 2000s, the local press reported that since 1960, at least 75 midwives in Texas had been convicted of fraudulently registering thousands of babies born in Mexico as Americans.

And without his father to answer, Raúl has tried to find or build his origin on his own, a past that goes back to the African populations that settled and mixed with indigenous communities in northern Mexico, after the abolition of slavery in that country.

[Raúl]: And when this happened to me, I did a DNA test to know my roots. I have 76% indigenous blood and 4% black blood. To this day there are still many tribes there and that’s where my grandparents are from. That’s why I have black blood and that’s why I’m dark-skinned and well, I have indigenous features.

[Desirée]: And despite the silence of his father who is now about 85 years old, his brother René, who remains in Mexico, has not abandoned him.

[Raúl]: He feels very guilty. He asked me for forgiveness and I said: well, there’s no reason to. I mean, you didn’t do anything. I decided to do this for you and well, it turned out badly. And it’s not your fault or mine, I tell him, well, it’s our parents, who did that, that fraud when I was little.

[Desirée]: The impact of this lie will perhaps be felt for generations. Raúl Jr., the second son from his first marriage who obtained citizenship through him, lost it. Today he faces the risk of being deported while waiting for his papers to be legalized, because his wife is from the United States. But, with this precedent, it’s very difficult for this to happen. Anita recognizes this, who knows how the system works. A system she’s already exhausted by.

[Anita]: By the end of this year I’m going to retire because I can’t take it anymore. No, I can’t bear what I’m doing anymore. Mentally, the work has been very difficult. With the interviews and the cases, I don’t see papers. I see a family. I see the person behind those papers and how the decision I make affects that person so much and the power that I as a worker have to say you stay or you don’t stay, I’m going to deport you or I’m not going to deport you.

[Desirée]: While that happens, Raúl dedicates himself to taking care of his ranch, which is about 15 kilometers from the border… from that wall that divides people between legal or illegal, according to the papers they have. And although for now he is out of danger, the adjective illegal has been marked on him.

[Raúl]: Let me show you something. The tattoo I got is of an alien, an extraterrestrial with a Navy cap and the peace sign. Now well, that’s what I am. I say: I’m illegal. I’m an illegal, someone who served in the United States military service.

[Daniel]: In the first hundred days of Donald Trump’s government, almost 140,000 people have been deported and tens of thousands of migrants have been detained. Many cases have been denounced for their arbitrariness and the absence of due process.

Desirée Yépez is a journalist and lives in California. This story was edited by Camila Segura, Luis Fernando Vargas, and by me. Bruno Scelza did the fact-checking. The sound design is by Andrés Azpiri with music by Ana Tuirán.

The rest of the Radio Ambulante team includes Paola Alean, Andrés Azpiri, Adriana Bernal, Aneris Casassus, Diego Corzo, Emilia Erbetta, Camilo Jiménez Santofimio, Melisa Rabanales, Natalia Ramírez, Laura Rojas Aponte, David Trujillo, and Elsa Liliana Ulloa. Samantha Suazo Radio Ambulante Studios intern.

Carolina Guerrero is our CEO.

Radio Ambulante is a podcast from Radio Ambulante Estudios, it is produced and mixed in the Hindenburg PRO program.

If you liked this episode and want us to continue doing independent journalism about Latin America, support us through Deambulantes, our membership program. Visit radioambulante.org/donar and help us continue narrating the region.

Radio Ambulante tells the stories of Latin America. I’m Daniel Alarcón. Thanks for listening.