Few Details on Immigrants Who Died in U.S. Custody

By NINA BERNSTEIN
The New York Times, May 5, 2008

Word spread quickly inside the windowless walls of the Elizabeth Detention Center, an immigration jail in New Jersey: A detainee had fallen, injured his head and become incoherent. Guards had put him in solitary confinement, and late that night, an ambulance had taken him away more dead than alive.

But outside, for five days, no official notified the family of the detainee, Boubacar Bah, a 52-year-old tailor from Guinea who had overstayed a tourist visa. When frantic relatives located him at University Hospital in Newark on Feb. 5, 2007, he was in a coma after emergency surgery for a skull fracture and multiple brain hemorrhages. He died there four months later without ever waking up, leaving family members on two continents trying to find out why.

Mr. Bah's name is one of 66 on a government list of deaths that occurred in immigration custody from January 2004 to November 2007, when nearly a million people passed through.

The list, compiled by Immigration and Customs Enforcement after Congress demanded the information, and obtained by The New York Times under the Freedom of Information Act, is the fullest accounting to date of deaths in immigration detention, a patchwork of federal centers, county jails and privately run prisons that has become the nation's fastest-growing form of incarceration.

The list has few details, and they are often unreliable, but it serves as a rough road map to previously unreported cases like Mr. Bah's. And it reflects a reality that haunts grieving families like his: the difficulty of getting information about the fate of people taken into immigration custody, even when they die.

Mr. Bah's relatives never saw the internal records labeled "proprietary information — not for distribution" by the Corrections Corporation of America, which runs the New Jersey detention center for the federal government. The documents detail how he was treated by guards and government employees: shackled and pinned to the floor of the medical unit as he moaned and vomited, then left in a disciplinary cell for more than 13 hours, despite repeated notations that he was unresponsive and intermittently foaming at the mouth.

Mr. Bah had lived in New York for a decade, surrounded by a large circle of friends and relatives. The extravagant gowns he sewed to support his wife and children in West Africa were on display in a Manhattan boutique.

But he died in a sequestered system where questions about what had happened to him, or even his whereabouts, were met with silence.

As the country debates stricter enforcement of immigration laws, thousands of people who are not American citizens are being locked up for days, months or years while the government decides whether to deport them. Some have no valid visa; some are legal residents, but have past criminal convictions; others are seeking asylum from persecution.

Death is a reality in any jail, and the medical neglect of inmates is a perennial issue. But far more than in the criminal justice system, immigration detainees and their families lack basic ways to get answers when things go wrong.

No government body is required to keep track of deaths and publicly report them. No independent inquiry is mandated. And often relatives who try to investigate the treatment of those who died say they are stymied by fear of immigration authorities, lack of access to lawyers, or sheer distance.

Federal officials say deaths are reviewed internally by Immigration and Customs Enforcement, which reports them to its inspector general and decides which ones warrant investigation. Officials say they notify the detainee's next of kin or consulate, and report the deaths to local medical authorities, who may conduct autopsies. In Mr. Bah's case, a review before his death found no evidence of foul play, an immigration spokesman said, though after later inquiries from The Times, he said a full review of the death was under way.

But critics, including many in Congress, say this piecemeal process leaves too much to the agency's discretion, allowing some deaths to be swept under the rug while potential witnesses are transferred or deported. They say it also obscures underlying complaints about medical care, abusive conditions or inadequate suicide prevention.

In January, the House passed a bill that would require states that receive certain federal money to report deaths in custody to their attorneys general. But the bill is stalled in the Senate, and it does not cover federal facilities.

The only tangible result of Congressional concern has been the list of 66 deaths, which names Mr. Bah and many other detainees for the first time, but raises as many questions as it answers.

For Mr. Bah's survivors, the mystery of his death is hard to bear. In Guinea, his first wife, Dalanda, wept as she spoke about the contradictory accounts that had reached her and her two teenage sons through other detainees, including some who speculated that Mr. Bah had been beaten.

In New York, a cousin who is an American citizen, Khadidiatou Bah, 38, said she was unable to bring a lawsuit, in part because other relatives were afraid of antagonizing the authorities.

"They don't want to push the case, or maybe they will be sent home," she said. "This guy was killed, and we don't know what happened."

Lingering Questions

The list of deaths where Mr. Bah's name surfaced is often cryptic. Along with 13 deaths cited as suicides and 14 as the result of cardiac ailments, it offers such causes as "undetermined" and "unwitnessed arrest, epilepsy." No one's nationality is given, some places of detention are omitted, and some names and birth dates seem garbled. As a result, many families could not be tracked down for this article.

But when they could be, they posed more disturbing questions.

In California, relatives of Walter Rodriguez-Castro, 28, said they were rebuffed when they tried to find out why his calls had stopped coming from the Kern County Jail in Bakersfield in April 2006. Then in June, his wife went to his scheduled hearing in San Francisco's immigration court and learned that he had been dead for many weeks, his body unclaimed in the county morgue.

The coroner found that Mr. Rodriguez-Castro, a mover from El Salvador in the country illegally, had died of undiagnosed meningitis and H.I.V., after days complaining of fever, stiff neck and vomiting. The cause of death on the government's list: "unresponsive."

Immigration authorities said on Friday that the case was now under review, but would not answer questions about it or other deaths on the list. Sgt. Ed Komin, a spokesman for the jail, said the death had been promptly reported to immigration officials, who were responsible for notifying families.

Four sons in another family, in Sacramento, described trying for days to get medical care for their father, Maya Nand, a 56-year-old legal immigrant from Fiji, at a detention center run by the Corrections Corporation in Eloy, Ariz. Mr. Nand, an architectural draftsman, had been ailing when he was taken into custody on Jan. 13, 2005, apparently because his application for citizenship had been rejected, based on an earlier conviction for misdemeanor domestic violence. In collect calls, the sons said, he told them that despite his chest pains and breathing problems, doctors at the detention center did not take his condition seriously.

The Corrections Corporation said he had been seen and treated "multiple times." But a letter to the family from an immigration official said his treatment was for a respiratory infection. The letter said that Mr. Nand was taken to an emergency room on Jan. 25, where congestive heart failure was diagnosed, and that he "suffered an apparent heart attack while at the hospital." He died on Feb. 2, 2005, shackled to a hospital bed in Tucson.

Boubacar Bah had more going for him than many detainees. He had a lawyer and many friends and relatives in the United States, and his detention center in New Jersey was one of the few frequented by immigrant advocates.

But three days after he suffered a head injury in detention last year, no one in his New York circle knew that he was lying comatose in a Newark hospital, where he had already been identified as a possible organ donor.

"Thank you for the referral," an organ-sharing network wrote on Feb. 3, 2007, according to hospital records. "This patient is a potential candidate for organ donation once brain death criteria is met."

Four days after the fall, tipped off by a detainee who called Mr. Bah's roommate in Brooklyn, relatives rushed to the detention center to ask Corrections Corporation employees where he was.

"They wouldn't give us any information," said Lamine Dieng, an American citizen who teaches physics at Bronx Community College and is married to Mr. Bah's cousin Khadidiatou.

On the fifth day, they said, a detention official called them with the name of the hospital. There they found Mr. Bah on life support, still in custody, with a detention guard around the clock.

"There was one guard who knew Boubacar," Ms. Bah said. "He told me on the down-low: 'This guy, you have to fight for him. This guy was neglected.' "

Within the week, word of the case reached a reporter at The Times, through an immigration lawyer who had received separate calls from two detainees; they were upset about a badly injured man — named "something like Aboubakar" — left in an isolation cell and later found near death.

But advocacy groups said they were unaware of the case. And Michael Gilhooly, the spokesman for Immigration and Customs Enforcement, said that without the man's full name and eight-digit alien registration number, he could not check the information.

For those who knew Mr. Bah, it was hard to understand how such a man could lie dying without explanations.

"Everybody liked Boubacar," said Sadio Diallo, 48, who has a tailor shop in Flatbush, Brooklyn, where he and Mr. Bah had shared an apartment with fellow immigrants since arriving in 1998. "He's a very, very, very good man."

For six years, Mr. Bah had worked for L'Impasse, a clothing store in the West Village, sewing dresses that sold for up to $2,000 with what a former manager, Abdul Sall, called his "magic hands." Mr. Bah often spent Sundays at the Bronx townhouse his cousins had inherited from the family's first American citizen, a seaman who arrived in 1943.

In Africa, Mr. Bah's earnings not only supported his first wife, sons and ailing mother, but in Guinean tradition, allowed him to wed a second wife, long distance. It was his longing to see them all again after eight years that landed him in detention. When he returned from a three-month visit to Guinea in May 2006, immigration authorities at Kennedy Airport told him that his green card application had been denied while he was away, automatically revoking his permission to re-enter the United States. An immigration lawyer hired by his friends was unable to reopen the application while Mr. Bah waited for nine months in detention, records showed.

Mr. Bah died on May 30, 2007, after four months in a coma. His lawyer, Theodore Vialet, requested detention reports and hospital records under the Freedom of Information Act. But by the time the records arrived last autumn, the idea of a lawsuit had been dropped.

So Mr. Vialet just filed the records away — until a reporter's call about a name on the list of dead detainees prompted him to dig them out.

After the Fall

There are 57 pages of documents, some neatly typed by medics, some scrawled by guards. Some quote detainees who said Mr. Bah was ailing for two days before his fall on Feb. 1, and asked in vain to see a doctor.

The records leave unclear exactly when or how Mr. Bah was injured in detention. But they leave no doubt that guards, supervisors, government medical employees and federal immigration officers played a role in leaving him untreated, hour after hour, as he lapsed into a stupor.

It began about 8 a.m., according to the earliest report. Guards called a medical emergency after a detainee saw Mr. Bah collapse near a toilet, hitting the back of his head on the floor.

When he regained consciousness, Mr. Bah was taken to the medical unit, which is run by the federal Public Health Service. He became incoherent and agitated, reports said, pulling away from the doctor and grabbing at the unit staff. Physicians consulted later by The Times called this a textbook symptom of intracranial bleeding, but apparently no one recognized that at the time.

He was handcuffed and placed in leg restraints on the floor with medical approval, "to prevent injury," a guard reported. "While on the floor the detainee began to yell in a foreign language and turn from side to side," the guard wrote, and the medical staff deemed that "the screaming and resisting is behavior problems."

Mr. Bah was ordered to calm down. Instead, he kept crying out, then "began to regurgitate on the floor of medical," the report said. So Mr. Bah was written up for disobeying orders. And with the approval of a physician assistant, Michael Chuley, who wrote that Mr. Bah's fall was unwitnessed and "questionable," the tailor was taken in shackles to a solitary confinement cell with instructions that he be monitored.

Under detention protocols, an officer videotaped Mr. Bah as he lay vomiting in the medical unit, but the camera's battery failed, guards wrote, when they tried to tape his trip to cell No. 7.

Inside the cell, a supervisor removed Mr. Bah's restraints. He was unresponsive to questions asked by the Public Health Service officer on duty, a report said, adding: "The detainee set up in his bed and moan and he fell to his left side and hit his head on the bed rail."

About 9 a.m., with the approval of the health officer and a federal immigration agent, the cell was locked.

The watching began. As guards checked hourly, Mr. Bah appeared to be asleep on the concrete floor, snoring. But he could not be roused to eat lunch or dinner, and at 7:10 p.m., "he began to breathe heavily and started foaming slightly at the mouth," a guard wrote. "I notified medical at this time."

However, the nurse on duty rejected the guard's request to come check, according to reports. And at 8 p.m., when the warden went to the medical unit to describe Mr. Bah's condition, the nurse, Raymund Dela Pena, was not alarmed. "Detainee is likely exhibiting the same behavior as earlier in the day," he wrote, adding that Mr. Bah would get a mental health exam in the morning.

About 10:30 p.m., more than 14 hours after Mr. Bah's fall, the same nurse, on rounds, recognized the gravity of his condition: "unresponsive on the floor incontinent with foamy brown vomitus noted around mouth." Smelling salts were tried. Mr. Bah was carried back to the medical unit on a stretcher.

Just before 11, someone at the jail called 911.

When an ambulance left Mr. Bah at the hospital, brain scans showed he had a fractured skull and hemorrhages at all sides of his swelling brain. He was rushed to surgery, and the detention center was informed of the findings.

But in a report to their supervisors the next day, immigration officials at the center described Mr. Bah's ailment as "brain aneurysms" — a diagnosis they corrected a week later to "hemorrhages," without mentioning the skull fracture. After Mr. Bah's death, they wrote that his hospitalization was "subsequent to a fall in the shower."

The nurse, Mr. Dela Pena, and the physician assistant, Mr. Chuley, said that only their superiors could discuss the case. The Public Health Service did not respond to questions, and the Corrections Corporation said medical decisions were the responsibility of the Public Health Service.

Mr. Bah's cousins demanded an autopsy, but the Union County medical examiner's confidential report was not completed until Dec. 6. It was sent to the county prosecutor's office only as a matter of routine, because the matter had been classified as an "unattended accident resulting in death."

Prosecutors said they did not investigate. "According to the report, Bah suffered a fall in the shower," Eileen Walsh, a spokeswoman for the prosecutors, said in an e-mail message. "We are not privy to any other bits of information."

In the home movies Mr. Bah made of his last journey home, he is only a fleeting presence: a slim man with a shy smile. But without his support, relatives in Africa say they have little money for food and none for his sons' schooling.

His body went back to Guinea in a sealed coffin.

"I stayed here seven years, waiting for him," his second wife, Mariama, said in French, recalling their long separation and the brief reunion that led to the birth of their son, now a toddler, while Mr. Bah was in detention.

"I wanted them to open the casket," she added, "to know if it was him inside. Until today, I cry for him."

Margot Williams contributed reporting.

Top Bush Advisors Approved 'Enhanced Interrogation': Detailed Discussions Were Held About Techniques to Use on al Qaeda Suspects

By JAN CRAWFORD GREENBURG, HOWARD L. ROSENBERG and ARIANE de VOGUE
ABC News

In dozens of top-secret talks and meetings in the White House, the most senior Bush administration officials discussed and approved specific details of how high-value al Qaeda suspects would be interrogated by the Central Intelligence Agency, sources tell ABC News.

The so-called Principals who participated in the meetings also approved the use of "combined" interrogation techniques -- using different techniques during interrogations, instead of using one method at a time -- on terrorist suspects who proved difficult to break, sources said.

Highly placed sources said a handful of top advisers signed off on how the CIA would interrogate top al Qaeda suspects -- whether they would be slapped, pushed, deprived of sleep or subjected to simulated drowning, called waterboarding.

The high-level discussions about these "enhanced interrogation techniques" were so detailed, these sources said, some of the interrogation sessions were almost choreographed -- down to the number of times CIA agents could use a specific tactic.

The advisers were members of the National Security Council's Principals Committee, a select group of senior officials who met frequently to advise President Bush on issues of national security policy.

At the time, the Principals Committee included Vice President Cheney, former National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice, Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld and Secretary of State Colin Powell, as well as CIA Director George Tenet and Attorney General John Ashcroft.

As the national security adviser, Rice chaired the meetings, which took place in the White House Situation Room and were typically attended by most of the principals or their deputies.

Contacted by ABC News today, spokesmen for Tenet, Rumsfeld and Powell declined to comment about the interrogation program or their private discussions in Principals Meetings. Powell said through an assistant there were "hundreds of [Principals] meetings" on a wide variety of topics and that he was "not at liberty to discuss private meetings."

The White House also declined comment on behalf of Rice and Cheney. Ashcroft could not be reached for comment today.

Critics at home and abroad have harshly criticized the interrogation program, which pushed the limits of international law and, they say, condoned torture. Bush and his top aides have consistently defended the program. They say it is legal and did not constitute torture.

"I can say that questioning the detainees in this program has given us the information that has saved innocent lives by helping us stop new attacks here in the United States and across the world," Bush said in a speech in September 2006.

In interview with ABC's Charles Gibson last year, Tenet said: "It was authorized. It was legal, according to the Attorney General of the United States."

But this is the first time sources have disclosed that a handful of the most senior advisers in the White House explicitly approved the details of the program. According to multiple sources, it was members of the Principals Committee that not only discussed specific plans and specific interrogation methods, but approved them.

The discussions and meetings occurred in an atmosphere of great concern that another terror attack on the nation was imminent. Sources said the extraordinary involvement of the senior advisers in the grim details of exactly how individual interrogations would be conducted showed how seriously officials took the al Qaeda threat.

It started after the CIA captured top al Qaeda operative Abu Zubaydah in spring 2002 in Faisalabad, Pakistan. When his safe house was raided by Pakistani security forces along with FBI and CIA agents, Zubaydah was shot three times during the gun battle.

At a time when virtually all counterterrorist professionals viewed another attack as imminent -- and with information on al Qaeda scarce -- the detention of Zubaydah was seen as a potentially critical breakthrough.

Zubaydah was taken to the local hospital, where CIA agent John Kiriakou, who helped coordinate Zubaydah's capture, was ordered to remain at the wounded captive's side at all times. "I ripped up a sheet and tied him to the bed," Kiriakou said.

But after Zubaydah recovered from his wounds at a secret CIA prison in Thailand, he was uncooperative.

"I told him I had heard he was being a jerk," Kiriakou recalled. "I said, 'These guys can make it easy on you or they can make it hard.' It was after that he became defiant."

The CIA wanted to use more aggressive -- and physical -- methods to get information.

The agency briefed high-level officials in the National Security Council's Principals Committee, led by then-National Security Advisor Rice and including then-Attorney General Ashcroft, which then signed off on the plan, sources said. It is unclear whether anyone on the committee objected to the CIA's plans for Zubaydah.

The CIA has confirmed Zubaydah was one of three al Qaeda suspects subjected to waterboarding.

After he was waterboarded, officials say Zubaydah gave up valuable information that led to the capture of 9/11 mastermind Khalid Sheik Mohammad and fellow 9/11 plotter Ramzi bin al-Shibh.

Mohammad was also subjected to waterboarding by the CIA. At a hearing before a military tribunal at Guantanamo Bay on March 10, 2007, KSM, as he is known, said he broke under the harsh interrogation.

COURT: Were any statements you made as the result of any of the treatment that you received during that time frame from 2003 to 2006? Did you make those statements because of the treatment you receive from these people?

KSM: Statement for whom?

COURT: To any of these interrogators.

KSM: CIA peoples. Yes. At the beginning, when they transferred me...

Lawyers in the Justice Department had written a classified memo, which was extensively reviewed, that gave formal legal authority to government interrogators to use the "enhanced" questioning tactics on suspected terrorist prisoners. The August 2002 memo, signed by then head of the Office of Legal Counsel Jay Bybee, was referred to as the so-called "Golden Shield" for CIA agents, who worried they would be held liable if the harsh interrogations became public.

Old hands in the intelligence community remembered vividly how past covert operations, from the Vietnam War-era "Phoenix Program" of assassinations of Viet Cong to the Iran-Contra arms sales of the 1980s were painted as the work of a "rogue agency" out of control.

But even after the "Golden Shield" was in place, briefings and meetings in the White House to discuss individual interrogations continued, sources said. Tenet, seeking to protect his agents, regularly sought confirmation from the NSC principals that specific interrogation plans were legal.

According to a former CIA official involved in the process, CIA headquarters would receive cables from operatives in the field asking for authorization for specific techniques. Agents, worried about overstepping their boundaries, would await guidance in particularly complicated cases dealing with high-value detainees, two CIA sources said.

Highly placed sources said CIA directors Tenet and later Porter Goss along with agency lawyers briefed senior advisers, including Cheney, Rice, Rumsfeld and Powell, about detainees in CIA custody overseas.

"It kept coming up. CIA wanted us to sign off on each one every time," said one high-ranking official who asked not to be identified. "They'd say, 'We've got so and so. This is the plan.'"

Sources said that at each discussion, all the Principals present approved.

"These discussions weren't adding value," a source said. "Once you make a policy decision to go beyond what you used to do and conclude it's legal, (you should) just tell them to implement it."

Then-Attorney General Ashcroft was troubled by the discussions. He agreed with the general policy decision to allow aggressive tactics and had repeatedly advised that they were legal. But he argued that senior White House advisers should not be involved in the grim details of interrogations, sources said.

According to a top official, Ashcroft asked aloud after one meeting: "Why are we talking about this in the White House? History will not judge this kindly."

The Principals also approved interrogations that combined different methods, pushing the limits of international law and even the Justice Department's own legal approval in the 2002 memo, sources told ABC News.

At one meeting in the summer of 2003 -- attended by Vice President Cheney, among others -- Tenet made an elaborate presentation for approval to combine several different techniques during interrogations, instead of using one method at a time, according to a highly placed administration source.

A year later, amidst the outcry over unrelated abuses of Iraqi prisoners at Abu Ghraib, the controversial 2002 legal memo, which gave formal legal authorization for the CIA interrogation program of the top al Qaeda suspects, leaked to the press. A new senior official in the Justice Department, Jack Goldsmith, withdrew the legal memo -- the Golden Shield -- that authorized the program.

But the CIA had captured a new al Qaeda suspect in Asia. Sources said CIA officials that summer returned to the Principals Committee for approval to continue using certain "enhanced interrogation techniques."

Then-National Security Advisor Rice, sources said, was decisive. Despite growing policy concerns -- shared by Powell -- that the program was harming the image of the United States abroad, sources say she did not back down, telling the CIA: "This is your baby. Go do it."

An Agent, a Green Card, and a Demand for Sex

NEW YORK TIMES
By NINA BERNSTEIN
Published: March 21, 2008

No problems so far, the immigration agent told the American citizen and his 22-year-old Colombian wife at her green card interview in December. After he stapled one of their wedding photos to her application for legal permanent residency, he had just one more question: What was her cellphone number?

Isaac R. Baichu, 46, an adjudicator for the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services, was arrested after he met with a green card applicant at the Flagship Restaurant, a diner in Queens. He is charged with coercing oral sex from her.

The calls from the agent started three days later. He hinted, she said, at his power to derail her life and deport her relatives, alluding to a brush she had with the law before her marriage. He summoned her to a private meeting. And at noon on Dec. 21, in a parked car on Queens Boulevard, he named his price — not realizing that she was recording everything on the cellphone in her purse.

"I want sex," he said on the recording. "One or two times. That's all. You get your green card. You won't have to see me anymore."

She reluctantly agreed to a future meeting. But when she tried to leave his car, he demanded oral sex "now," to "know that you're serious." And despite her protests, she said, he got his way.

The 16-minute recording, which the woman first took to The New York Times and then to the Queens district attorney, suggests the vast power of low-level immigration law enforcers, and a growing desperation on the part of immigrants seeking legal status. The aftermath, which included the arrest of an immigration agent last week, underscores the difficulty and danger of making a complaint, even in the rare case when abuse of power may have been caught on tape.

No one knows how widespread sexual blackmail is, but the case echoes other instances of sexual coercion that have surfaced in recent years, including agents criminally charged in Atlanta, Miami and Santa Ana, Calif. And it raises broader questions about the system's vulnerability to corruption at a time when millions of noncitizens live in a kind of legal no-man's land, increasingly fearful of seeking the law's protection.

The agent arrested last week, Isaac R. Baichu, 46, himself an immigrant from Guyana, handled some 8,000 green card applications during his three years as an adjudicator in the Garden City, N.Y., office of United States Citizenship and Immigration Services, part of the federal Department of Homeland Security. He pleaded not guilty to felony and misdemeanor charges of coercing the young woman to perform oral sex, and of promising to help her secure immigration papers in exchange for further sexual favors. If convicted, he will face up to seven years in prison.

His agency has suspended him with pay, and the inspector general of Homeland Security is reviewing his other cases, a spokesman said Wednesday. Prosecutors, who say they recorded a meeting between Mr. Baichu and the woman on March 11 at which he made similar demands for sex, urge any other victims to come forward.

Money, not sex, is the more common currency of corruption in immigration, but according to Congressional testimony in 2006 by Michael Maxwell, former director of the agency's internal investigations, more than 3,000 backlogged complaints of employee misconduct had gone uninvestigated for lack of staff, including 528 involving criminal allegations.

The agency says it has tripled its investigative staff since then, and counts only 165 serious complaints pending. But it stopped posting an e-mail address and phone number for such complaints last year, said Jan Lane, chief of security and integrity, because it lacks the staff to cull the thousands of mostly irrelevant messages that resulted. Immigrants, she advised, should report wrongdoing to any law enforcement agency they trust.

The young woman in Queens, whose name is being withheld because the authorities consider her the victim of a sex crime, did not even tell her husband what had happened. Two weeks after the meeting in the car, finding no way to make a confidential complaint to the immigration agency and afraid to go to the police, she and two older female relatives took the recording to The Times.

Reasons to Worry

A slim, shy woman who looks like a teenager, she said she had spent recent months baby-sitting for relatives in Queens, crying over the deaths of her two brothers back in Cali, Colombia, and longing for the right stamp in her passport — one that would let her return to the United States if she visited her family.

She came to the United States on a tourist visa in 2004 and overstayed. When she married an American citizen a year ago, the law allowed her to apply to "adjust" her illegal status. But unless her green card application was approved, she could not visit her parents or her brothers' graves and then legally re-enter the United States. And if her application was denied, she would face deportation.

She had another reason to be fearful, and not only for herself. About 15 months ago, she said, an acquaintance hired her and two female relatives in New York to carry $12,000 in cash to the bank. The three women, all living in the country illegally, were arrested on the street by customs officers apparently acting on a tip in a money-laundering investigation. After determining that the women had no useful information, the officers released them.

But the closed investigation file had showed up in the computer when she applied for a green card, Mr. Baichu told her in December; until he obtained the file and dealt with it, her application would not be approved. If she defied him, she feared, he could summon immigration enforcement agents to take her relatives to detention.

So instead of calling the police, she turned on the video recorder in her cellphone, put the phone in her purse and walked to meet the agent. Two family members said they watched anxiously from their parked car as she disappeared behind the tinted windows of his red Lexus.

"We were worried that the guy would take off, take her away and do something to her," the woman's widowed sister-in-law said in Spanish.

As the recorder captured the agent's words and a lilting Guyanese accent, he laid out his terms in an easy, almost paternal style. He would not ask too much, he said: sex "once or twice," visits to his home in the Bronx, perhaps a link to other Colombians who needed his help with their immigration problems.

In shaky English, the woman expressed reluctance, and questioned how she could be sure he would keep his word.

"If I do it, it's like very hard for me, because I have my husband, and I really fall in love with him," she said.

The agent insisted that she had to trust him. "I wouldn't ask you to do something for me if I can't do something for you, right?" he said, and reasoned, "Nobody going to help you for nothing," noting that she had no money.

He described himself as the single father of a 10-year-old daughter, telling her, "I need love, too," and predicting, "You will get to like me because I'm a nice guy."

Repeatedly, she responded "O.K.," without conviction. At one point he thanked her for showing up, saying, "I know you feel very scared."

Finally, she tried to leave. "Let me go because I tell my husband I come home," she said.

His reply, the recording shows, was a blunt demand for oral sex.

"Right now? No!" she protested. "No, no, right now I can't."

He insisted, cajoled, even empathized. "I came from a different country, too," he said. "I got my green card just like you."

Then, she said, he grabbed her. During the speechless minute that follows on the recording, she said she yielded to his demand out of fear that he would use his authority against her.

How Much Corruption?

The charges against Mr. Baichu, who became a United States citizen in 1991 and earns roughly $50,000 a year, appear to be part of a larger pattern, according to government records and interviews.

Mr. Maxwell, the immigration agency's former chief investigator, told Congress in 2006 that internal corruption was "rampant," and that employees faced constant temptations to commit crime.

"It is only a small step from granting a discretionary waiver of an eligibility rule to asking for a favor or taking a bribe in exchange for granting that waiver," he contended. "Once an employee learns he can get away with low-level corruption and still advance up the ranks, he or she becomes more brazen."

Mr. Maxwell's own deputy, Lloyd W. Miner, 49, of Hyattsville, Md., turned out to be an example. He was sentenced March 7 to a year in prison for inducing a 21-year-old Mongolian woman to stay in the country illegally, and harboring her in his house.

Other cases include that of a 60-year-old immigration adjudicator in Santa Ana, Calif., who was charged with demanding sexual favors from a 29-year-old Vietnamese woman in exchange for approving her citizenship application. The agent, Eddie Romualdo Miranda, was acquitted of a felony sexual battery charge last August, but pleaded guilty to misdemeanor battery and was sentenced to probation.

In Atlanta, another adjudicator, Kelvin R. Owens, was convicted in 2005 of sexually assaulting a 45-year-old woman during her citizenship interview in the federal building, and sentenced to weekends in jail for six months. And a Miami agent of Immigration and Customs Enforcement responsible for transporting a Haitian woman to detention is awaiting trial on charges that he took her to his home and raped her.

"Despite our best efforts there are always people ready to use their position for personal gain or personal pleasure," said Chris Bentley, a spokesman for Citizenship and Immigration Services. "Our responsibility is to ferret them out."

When the Queens woman came to The Times with her recording on Jan. 3, she was afraid of retaliation from the agent, and uncertain about making a criminal complaint, though she had an appointment the next day at the Queens district attorney's office.

She followed through, however, and Carmencita Gutierrez, an assistant district attorney, began monitoring phone calls between the agent and the young woman, a spokesman said. When Mr. Baichu arranged to meet the woman on March 11 at the Flagship Restaurant on Queens Boulevard, investigators were ready.

In the conversation recorded there, according to the criminal complaint, Mr. Baichu told her he expected her to do "just like the last time," and offered to take her to a garage or the bathroom of a friend's real estate business so she would be "more comfortable doing it" there.

Mr. Baichu was arrested as he emerged from the diner and headed to his car, wearing much gold and diamond jewelry, prosecutors said. Later released on $15,000 bail, Mr. Baichu referred calls for comment to his lawyer, Sally Attia, who said he did not have authority to grant or deny green card petitions without his supervisor's approval.

The young woman's ordeal is not over. Her husband overheard her speaking about it to a cousin about a month ago, and she had to tell him the whole story, she said.

"He was so mad at me, he left my house," she said, near tears. "I don't know if he's going to come back."

The green card has not come through. "I'm still hoping," she said.

Angelica Medaglia contributed reporting.

Black churches, labor activists form underground railroad for Indian guest workers subjected to secret surveillance operation by immigration agents

ATLANTA, Georgia – Outraged by immigration authorities' covert surveillance and intimidation of exploited guest workers they call "the new slaves," a prominent Black Baptist pastor in Atlanta and labor allies have formed an underground railroad for 64 Indian workers making a "journey for justice" to Washington, DC.

"Make no mistake about it: these workers are victims of a system of modern-day slavery," said Rev. Timothy McDonald III, chief pastor of First Iconium Baptist Church in Atlanta. "I granted refuge to these brave runaway slaves on Easter Sunday and will help protect them on their way to seek justice in Washington, DC."

The workers, who broke a human trafficking chain by Northrop Grumman subcontractor Signal International and US and Indian recruiters earlier this month, have faced surveillance and harassment by immigration officials since their departure on foot from New Orleans last Tuesday—including as they left the Civil Rights Memorial museum in Montgomery, AL, on Friday.

"Alabama ICE's attempt to intimidate human trafficking survivors as they walk in the footsteps of US freedom fighters is unconscionable," said New Orleans Workers' Center for Racial Justice director Saket Soni, referring to the US Bureau of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE).

"We expect Indian Ambassador Ronen Sen to demand that US immigration authorities call off secret surveillance and other actions that have an obviously terrifying impact on survivors of trafficking."

On Friday, the workers witnessed a suspicious man photographing them as they left the Civil Rights Memorial Center in Montgomery. When workers' advocates confronted the man, he turned aggressive and repeatedly refused to identify himself, though another member of an ICE surveillance team later identified the man as an ICE agent. A third agent, who identified himself as head of Alabama ICE Mickey Pledger, arrived and suggested that the workers had been under covert surveillance from the launch of their journey in New Orleans last Tuesday through their stop in Jackson, MS, on Thursday, saying: "Just because you don't see us doesn't mean we haven't been there."

The workers refused to be intimidated on Friday, marching through Montgomery for several hours after the encounter.

"We are walking to Washington, DC, to put an end to this system of modern-day slavery, and we won't let ICE frighten us into hiding," said Sabulal Vijayan, a former Signal worker and organizer from the Alliance of Guestworkers for Dignity.

Vijayan is one of over 500 Indian welders and pipe fitters who paid approximately $20,000 apiece to US and Indian recruiters for false promises of permanent residency in the US, and instead were forced to work for Signal on ten-month temporary H2B guest workers visas in Gulf Coast shipyards under deplorable conditions.

The ranks of the workers' allies and supporters have grown during the 8-day journey that they call a satyagraha in the tradition of Mahatma Gandhi. Their allies include legendary civil rights leader Hollis Watkins, the ACLU, the Southern Poverty Law Center, Jobs With Justice, the National Immigrant Law Center, the Low-Wage Migrant Worker Coalition, the Mississippi Workers' Center for Human Rights, the Mississippi Immigrant Rights Alliance, and numerous other groups.

On Tuesday, March 25, the workers will hold a press event with Rev. McDonald, then walk through Atlanta with the support of Rev. McDonald and other religious and civil rights leaders before traveling by bus to the next point of refuge: a Black Baptist church in Greensboro, NC.

They will arrive in Washington, DC on March 26, hold a mass meeting with Indian Ambassador Ronen Sen on March 27, and demand high-level talks between the US and Indian governments on a bilateral labor agreement that will end abuses of the guest worker program.

The workers' experiences during their journey to DC are being detailed in a text and photo blog at www.neworleansworkerjustice.org.

WHAT: Announcement of the creation of an underground railroad for Indian guest workers on journey to DC, worker march through Atlanta
WHEN: 12 p.m., March 25, 2008
WHERE: First Iconium Baptist Church, 542 Moreland Ave. SE, Atlanta, GA
CONTACT: Stephen Boykewich – Media Director, NOWCRJ
504-655-0876; email: spboykewich@gmail.com
www.neworleansworkerjustice.org

Nonprofit turns light on human bondage

From the Greensboro News & Record

GREENSBORO — A problem more often associated with refugee camps or third-world brothels is happening in Guilford County, and a local agency is hoping to bring more cases to light.
Since founding Triad Ladder of Hope in 2006, Sandra Johnson has helped three Greensboro women escape slavery.

This week, Triad Ladder of Hope — a High Point-based, nonprofit devoted to helping women and girls involved in human trafficking — is sponsoring training to teach people how to recognize the signs of slavery.

"A lot of those that are brought in from other countries don't know the law, they don't know their rights — sometimes victims don't realize they are victims," Johnson said.

Two of the women Johnson worked with came to Greensboro to work as nannies. Once here, they were forced to do domestic labor, such as cooking and cleaning, for long hours and without compensation, Johnson said.

The third became enslaved by her husband after she traveled to the United States to marry him.

In many cases, the victim's seclusion and unfamiliarity with the law ensures that they never seek help.

In others, their captors may threaten to harm the victim's loved ones or tell victims they will be arrested or deported if they talk to anyone.

So, law enforcement agencies largely rely on social service agencies, churches and social organizations to refer cases to them for investigation, said John Price, a special agent with the FBI in Charlotte who investigates human trafficking.

"It's not a public crime like bank robberies," Price said.

That's why Johnson was thrilled to have about 100 people attend the first two days of training in High Point on Monday and Winston-Salem on Tuesday. The training will be offered in Greensboro today.

Johnson said employees of social service agencies spoke up about situations they had seen in the past without recognizing there were indications of human trafficking.

In the future, Johnson hopes those people will be able to guide victims to the help they need.
One victim she has worked with for two years has complied with all the federal requirements to prosecute her captor and expects to become a citizen soon.

Although the State Department estimates that between 14,500 and 17,500 victims are trafficked into the country every year, counting the number of local victims is as difficult as finding them.

"Usually, you stumble upon it accidentally because mostly it's in the immigrant community, and we don't really know about it until we are investigating something else," said Maj. Tom Sheppard of the Guilford County Sheriff's Office.

Law enforcement officers are sure that the number of cases investigated represent a small minority of the human trafficking that happens.

"Our cases come in ones and twos," Price said. "We don't get bus loads of cases coming up to our office. We have to scratch and dig for our cases."

MataHari in India New England

Asian giving group helps nonprofits with mini-grants
Saffron Circle in 2nd year of grant giving

By ADAM SMITH

BOSTON — When the nonprofit Matahari–Eye of the Day received $3,000 last year to help run educational forums about violence against women, labor exploitation, and immigrants’ rights, the small grant meant more than helping the group’s operations, said director Carol Gomez.

“It’s somewhat a sense of recognition from the Asian Pacific Islander giving community that they consider the issues that we’re working on valuable enough and worthwhile as an investment,” said Gomez. “It shows their trust in us.”

The money came from a Boston-based giving group called Saffron Circle, which last year donated $15,000 to seven Asian American organizations in Massachusetts.

Saffron Circle, which is now reviewing proposals for its second round of funding, formed in mid-2006 to donate small grants to small and emerging Asian nonprofits.

"We realized that traditional sources of revenue are failing [Asian] organizations,” said Yasmin Shah, a cofounder of the group. Shah points to a 2007 report showing a disproportionate rate of giving to Asian American organizations, such as Matahari, which advocates for victims of human-rights violations and domestic abuse. The report by the national group Asian Americans/Pacific Islanders in Philanthropy shows that during 2002, 2003 and 2004, donations for Asian community organizations declined nationally, while total donations to all community organizations increased to record levels.

So, Shah, along with other founding members such as Kaberi Banerjee Murthy, now a resident of Chicago, formed Saffron Circle. The group’s funding comes from membership fees: It costs a minimum of $500 to join for two years. That money goes to the donation fund, which is held by the Boston Foundation. Saffron Circle’s members decide how the money is donated. Money is usually given out in increments of $1,000 to $5,000.

“We wanted to make a positive social impact, by Asians, for Asians," said Shah, who works for Grants Managements Associates a consulting company for philanthropists.

Saffron Circle is the first so-called Asian giving circle in the Boston area and the third in the United States, according to Shah, who notes that the group is modeled after one Murthy created earlier in Chicago.

Shah and other members say the group not only helps fund nonprofits providing social services and job- and language-skills training, but also allows its members (currently about 34) more intimate involvement with the operations of nonprofits. To select grant recipients, members often go on site visits and talk directly with leaders of the organizations that are applying for funding.

The non-traditional form of giving is desirable for many Asian Americans, according to Shah.

"I think that a lot of Asians do give to their communities in a lot of nontraditional ways, whether that's volunteering or sending donations back to their families in home countries, or, in my father's case, he gives to his medical school in India. So, I think that there are a lot of dollars and a lot of resources that aren't necessarily counted," said Shah.

Meeting other like-minded individuals of other Asian backgrounds is also an advantage to the organization, according to Shah.

"There are definitely professional networking opportunities for a lot of us who are involved in nonprofit or philanthropy work. But there's also plenty of personal networking going on as well," said Shah.

But she and other members know that Saffron Circle is limited in its ability to help nonprofits because its funds are still small.

The group is seeking to boost membership and explore other ways to increase the amount it can donate.

"Sponsorship — we'd love to go in that direction of corporate sponsorship," said Jennifer Chin, another member of Saffron Circle. Chin said she looks forward to the day when the group can give out $10,000 grants.

For now, the every bit counts, according to Gomez.

“It’s a practical, more intimate way to get to know smaller budget organizations that may not be in a place to get support from places like the Boston Foundation because they’re just emerging,” said Gomez.

“It’s a wonderful way to build communities among budding philanthropists,” she added, noting that the group helps raise awareness about the needs of Asian American communities, while at the same time cultivating a sense of self responsibility.

“I was kind of proud to see that the Asian Pacific Islander community was coming together, considering creative ways of … being supportive of their own community,” said Gomez of when she first heard of the group. “It was inspiring.”

For information, visit saffroncircle.org

Welcome to the MataHari blog!

Welcome to MataHari's new weblog!

This is a temporary post and will be deleted as soon as we generate actual content, but you all are invited to post journal entries, news articles, links, and other material pertinent to MataHari and its work.

As you can see, in the next few weeks, I will be tweaking this blog to look more consistent with the rest of the MataHari website, but the good news is that this blog is hosted directly on the MataHari website. Feel free to direct friends, family, and colleagues to www.eyeoftheday.org/blog.html.

Let me know if you have any questions. I can be reached at christopher.lapinig@gmail.com.

Happy blogging!

Chris