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Dear President Obama, Senator McCain, Senator Kyle, and Governor Brewer,
Is it getting better? Have all your efforts, building a fence, installing surveillance towers, setting up “Inner Border” checkpoints all along the border, continually increasing the size of the Border Patrol Army ( 50-60 thousand now), helped? Have they stopped drug traffic and illegal immigration? Or just monitored it? You’ve spent billions of dollars for a “virtual fence. This boondoggle has all the earmarks of a wildlife study – should have been Game and Fish monitoring the migration of the Hooded Scratched Back. A thousand passed by; eighty-seven were captured and relocated! Did anyone ask—will this solve the problem?
I sympathize with the situation in which Ms. Tucker found herself at the border checkpoint in May. But I believe she expended too much effort and too many words writing about why she was detained rather than about where it happened. If she takes the time to think about some of the efforts that have been made to commit terrorist acts upon the United States, why would she think the detention of a traveler emitting radiation from their person or vehicle would not be detained? And, even though the request for documentation of her medical procedure, and the length of time they detained her seems unreasonable, consider the issue from the point of view of the folks whose job it is to identify possible terrorist perpetrators. If she were they, would she disregard a person emitting radiation? I imagine she would not. She would have reacted in much the same manner the checkpoint agents did. So let’s get on with what her letter likely was really all about: Protecting the Border at the Border.
Dear President Obama,
I live in a small town near the Mexican border in southern Arizona. I am a 52-year-old grandmother with not so much as a speeding ticket on my record. Yesterday, May 13,, 2010, I was on my way to a doctor’s appointment when 1 was pulled over by the border patrol at their checkpoint, which is 32 miles north of the border. Their reason was that I was emitting radiation from my body. I explained to them that I have had a recent heart attack and that I had had a nuclear heart stress test within the last week. Apparently this was not good enough for them, (officers Delgado and Gifford) and they made me stand in the hot sun while they waited for someone to come and run a more sophisticated machine on me. When I was asked for proof of this nuclear test, I showed them the bruises on my arm from the IVs. Again, this was not good enough for them, they asked for paperwork of this test which would prove that I was not a lying terrorist. Of course I did not have this paperwork with me. They did eventually allow me to sit down in the shade while they tried to figure out what to do with me. After filling out two pages of paperwork they allowed me to go on my way. I did make note of how long they detained me, it was from 9:15 am to 10:08 a.m. I was worried that I would miss my doctor’s appointment which was another 60 miles ahead of me.
Mr. President, could you explain to me, as an American citizen, what constitutional rights I still have left? I have lived in this small community for over 15 years and have watched as many good people in this town are unduly stripped and harassed, are physically thrown out of their vehicles, forced down on the ground at gun point and numerous other violations of their rights. We are no longer able to go about our business and lives without the constant threat of being treated as terrorists. This is wrong on so many levels. This is no longer the country I was born and raised in. The Constitution in which my forefathers fought so hard for has become nothing but a joke and no longer worth the paper it was written on.
I understand the difficulties in protecting our borders from terrorists, drug and people smugglers and the like, but why is this not being done at the border? Why are there so many untrained people with guns being allowed to run amok in American communities with the belief that they are above the law? I do not normally speak out, but 1 am speaking now, (I believe I still have that right). It seems to me that the biggest acts of terrorism are coming from our own politicians and law makers. It has now become the normal practice of violating the rights of American citizens without the worry of any repercussions. I believe it has become a very sad time to be an American citizen. As someone who voted for you, believed in you and your promise of change, I want t6 know how you are going to address this. I do not want my grandchildren to grow up believing that they have no rights, no freedoms and to be subjected to the very lawlessness that comes from their own government. Thank you for hearing my voice.
Sincerely,
Nancy Tucker
Arivaca, AZ
I have had some visitors lately. A couple of weeks ago, when the dogs were barking, I looked out to see two migrants standing in the shade of a tree in the corral. As I approached one raised his empty jug and said, in perfect English, “Ma’am, may we please have some water?” he then offered me a $100 bill for food. I told him to keep his money, but took the opportunity to ask a few questions. He and a young man from his village in Southern Mexico had been traveling for three days and they had been afraid to show themselves but were out of water and were starving. He had worked for 10 years in Visalia, California picking vegetables and is finding it hard to return to his job after he goes home to see his family. If he is caught now he will spend three months in jail so he is happy to hear that he is three miles north of the new Border Patrol checkpoint on 1-19 and one mile east of the Arivaca Road checkpoint. After profuse thank-yous and blessings they continue on their way in the warm afternoon sun.
Four days later I am watching a movie in the evening with a friend when the dogs start up a ruckus that gets close to the house. I flip the porch light on and we see at least ten desperate men using the hose spigot inside the garden gate. They were drinking like their lives depended on it. One man waved his arms at me and said, in perfect English, “Please, we just need water, please”. We watch, stunned and apprehensive as they gulped water and filled their jugs in the glare of the porch lamp. I realize I may have helped the leader a few years ago for him to know where the water spigot was and to take the risk of coming in to use it. With a grateful wave they staggered off into the pitch black night, other farm workers going to their jobs.
My questions are: Why aren’t these guys riding a bus to their jobs with a guest workers’ permit in their pocket? Why do these people, who pick our food that we eat, have to sneak in under the cover of darkness with death-by-dehydration and/or starvation hanging over their heads? And what, exactly, do the Border Patrol check points do?
On April 14, 2010, my two friends and I headed to Tucson to pick-up a cat that was ill and bring him into Lyle at the church that afternoon. Off we went, as far as the checkpoint that is. Young polite officer asked the question, “U.S. citizen?”
“Yes.”
“All of you?”
“Yes.”
He then nodded for us to go.
Then officer T. Collins tapped on the passenger front side window, startling the passenger who is looking at other officer and ahead.
“What country were you born in?”
“Alaska,” was her startled reply, “The Haida Nation.”
Officer Collin then came around to the driver–who was me—and stated that he already knew who I was and where I lived.
“Well, then there shouldn’t be any problem, you know we’re residents of Arivaca and most of all, of the U.S.”
The next words out of Officer Collins mouth were, “Pull to the side,” while flipping through his little green book. As we pulled up, a cruiser was sent to cut us off, as if we were flight risks. From there things only escalated. Officer Collins then informed us that he was gonna search the car – and that he did – several times, between interrogation of the three suspects, who are now in disbelief, and one of them is getting pretty angry at the intimidation tactics and threats of incarceration.
Another search. After that Officer Collins called in a K-9 Unit. Officer DeCarle arrived with the same enthusiasm. Coming to a screeching halt from 60 miles an hour, the door opens and up pops officer DeCarle. “Put those f*****g cameras away or I’ll have you handcuffed!” Cameras away. DeCarle then got his dog, which to some people might be scary. The dog went in and out of the car and trunk as many times as officer Collins had, DeCarle and Collins then informed us that a female officer was coming for a full body search.
Then they search the car one more time, put the dog away and inform us we can go. Purses dumped, papers flying, trunk dismantled. As we gathered ourselves the two officers stood behind me at the trunk of the car, just smiling as I picked up my stuff from ground. Offocer DeCarle then stated “Don’t leave no junk from your trunk there,” and walked on by to his truck and sped away. I have never been more ashamed of our Homeland Security. There was an apology by Officer Collins an hour and a half later. “Oh yeah, sorry,” and with a smile that we hadn’t seen previously, “Good luck with that cat” (he was informed during the interrogation that Jolene’s 15-year-old cat was to be euthanized).
The next day I got the Border Patrol number from our Xanthous Pages—disconnected with no further information. Next step the Internet—several listings with same number. I finally got a person on the line. He doesn’t know who you call for complaints, he’s with public affairs and everyone has gone home. There was no answer at the number he gave me. Who do you tell on Homeland Security? Homeland Security?
First they were known as “wetbacks” or “wets” because of crossing the Rio Grande River into Texas. Then came “migrant worker” followed by “illegal alien” (with elongated green faces and black holes for eyes?), which then got changed to “illegal immigrant” and “undocumented alien.” Whatever name we use, they are all over the country with numbers in the millions and more filtering in every day. My observations on the migrant issue come from living, farming and ranching in Amado, 35 miles north of the US-Mexico border between Nogales and Tucson. In the lifetime I have lived here I have watched the situation change dramatically in the last six years from how it was for many years to what it has become today. In the 1960s and 70s we would hire the migrants to do farm work for a few months. Once they had made some money they would either return to Mexico or move on to greener pastures. In the 1980s and 90s it became unwise to do that, but we were aware of a slow trickle of workers walking north along the railroad tracks and river looking for a better life. Then came the 2000s; Latin America’s baby boom reaching maturity with no jobs in their mother countries and a rich northern neighbor in need of low wage workers. Low wage is better than no wage, so here they all are.
On Thursday, April 10, the Arivaca Community Center hosted the Border Patrol for the latest in a series of meetings on local border issues. Several officials from the Tucson Sector attended as well as the Director of the SBInet field offices in Washington, D.C. Tom King. Some highlights of the meeting:
Thursday evening, April 10, the Community Center was packed with locals and media for a meeting with a long table of representatives of the Border Patrol prepped to answer questions largely chosen in advance of the event.
A year ago at this time, most media and many people became entranced by the Department of Homeland Security and Boeing’s technological solution to securing this country’s borders. The SBInet’s Project 28 long range surveillance towers were rising on lands to the south and west of Arivaca. At community meetings, Boeing and DHS told us that P28 would allow them to detect, identify and track anyone crossing the border and the towers would stretch across Arizona by the end of 2008. Technology was coming to the rescue and would effectively and efficiently relieve us of the need to deal with border issues.
It’s pretty amazing the things that go through your mind when you’re looking down the barrel of a gun. Nothing really seems rational. It’s like you know this is the end and you can’t quite accept that so you think of things that are mundane.
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