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Emma and Emilio Gonzalez struggled to remember their parents. Days became weeks—weeks became a month and then two. And not once in all that time did any ICE official think to question the two children about their country of origin or current citizenship status. That’s how sure these immigration professionals were that they were doing good work for the government, rounding up and eventually deporting people, regardless of the tragic consequences to their families. If just one government employee had asked, “hey kids—where are you from?” these two children would be at home with their parents. Alas, no one thought to ask Emma, Emilio, or anyone else.
El Paso city residents were unhappy about the camp and perceived conditions there. As a result, they constantly called out and complained to their elected officials. El Paso County votes decidedly ‘blue’ in ‘red’ Texas. The public and its elected officials were consistently pushing back against the feds.
The El Paso Times wrote scathing op-eds about immigration policy, first targeting former president Ronald John. The press was relentless, especially when it became clear that President Golding would continue President John’s outrageous and unconstitutional immigration policies. High-profile celebrities and political leaders from all over the country descended upon El Paso. They held rallies, denouncing the ‘humanitarian crisis at the border,’ demanding the release of the children.
“The Golding administration dehumanizes young immigrants, locks them in cages, and ignores their status as asylum-seekers. Seeking asylum is not illegal. We are seeing chilling reports of inhumane conditions at these detention centers,” a local official argued.
“The words ‘America’ and ‘detention center’ should never be uttered in the same sentence, yet here we are.” A protestor shouted from a makeshift podium at one rally. “We want all our citizens to know what is happening here. Kids from all over the country and the world are being brought here by the thousands. They are imprisoned in detention camps thousands of miles from home. They’re alone, in make-shift tent cities or abandoned warehouses. We are better than this. I ask my fellow citizens across this great country: Do we want to be a country of prison camps for children and walls at our borders or the land of the free, building bridges to citizenship? America is a nation of immigrants. Their story our story? This isn’t a red or blue issue—it is a uniquely American issue!” The crowd erupted in cheers and shouts of “free the children.”
Micah Love and Reed Spencer watched the protests on television.
“That is despicable, Reed. You expect this in a third-world country, not in America,” Micah wailed.
“True that, Micah. If you recall, when we first started looking into this, someone said that these kids were being transported all over the country. You don’t think there’s any chance they would have sent the Gonzalez kids as far away as Texas, do you?”
“Not under normal circumstances. But if they were sent that far away, I’ve got two better questions for you: How many camps are there and where is the nearest one? That’s where I’d start my search. Meanwhile, I’ve talked to a couple of local actors. They’re willing to help us implement your plan. Let’s try both tactics. We’ll go with whatever bears fruit first,” Micah decided.
As Micah and Reed were finalizing strategy, Emma and Emilio were cleaning toilets in the very same El Paso immigration camp that was the subject of the televised protests. They’d been at it since 6:30 AM, when the staff made the usual loud banging noises to alert the kids it was time to rise.
Before breakfast, Emma and Emilio were ordered to the bathrooms and made to scrub them spotless. This was their day to empty all waste, trashcans, and bags full of dirty toilet paper. Everyone took turns doing it. When the children finally finished, without little opportunity to wash, they were fed breakfast, eggs the consistency of a sponge, some mysterious and unrecognizable breakfast meat, and a glass of sour milk. The kids always followed orders and always behaved because they were taught to obey adults. They also believed good behavior would one day be rewarded with a reunion with their parents.
They learned which staff members were “good guys,” which were not, and to stay away from the “bad guys.” If they encountered one or the other, they determined to be on their best behavior. One of their friends, a young boy from Haiti, was injected with drugs to deal with his ‘agitation.’
The condition manifested itself in fits of rage where he would pitch a fit, throw things, run from staff members, and damage or destroy things. After his ‘shot,’ the boy would calm, fall asleep, and staff members would carry him to bed. Emma warned Emilio that this could easily happen to one of them if they behaved as the boy from Haiti did. Emilio managed to toe the line, always trying to please his big sister.
Their saddest and happiest days were always ‘goodbye days.’ Once in a while, a judge would find a camper’s parent and order the family reunited. Each time this happened, campers and staff members gathered to say buena suerte, hasta luego, good luck, see you later. These occasions were always bittersweet for Emma and Emilio. They were happy for the departing child but sad that they weren’t chosen. Still, these events kept them going and gave them hope.
***
Back in Michigan, two uniformed officers in an official-looking vehicle, with federal government plates, pulled into the parking lot of the infamous Detroit Detention Center. The officers exited the vehicle and walked toward the entrance to the building. Their uniforms identified them as two-star generals.
The generals entered the building and approached the front desk. The male receptionist immediately stood at attention and saluted. The two generals glanced at each other and saluted back.
“As you were, soldier,” one general ordered.
“Sir, yes sir!” The receptionist barked.
“Be seated, soldier,” the other general ordered, suppressing a grin. The soldier sat down.
“We’re here to see your commanding officer, Cap . . .” The general looked down at a piece of paper in his hand, reading the name off the paper. “Captain Gordon Billings.” The tone was more ‘order’ than ‘request.’
“I’ll see if he’s in, sir. Who shall I say is calling?”
“General Moreland and General Philpot. We’re from Washington.”
“Right away, sir.” The nervous desk clerk pointed to a row of seats. “Would you like to have a seat? Can I get you anything, coffee, tea, water?”
“You can get me Billings! What’s your name son?” The general squinted to read the name off the desk clerk’s badge.
“Burkes, sir. Private first-class Jeremy Burkes.”
The other general cut Burkes some slack. “Burkes—we’d like to see Captain Billings. Sooner rather than later because we are on a tight schedule.”
“Yes, sir!” He picked up the telephone and punched some numbers. Someone picked up on the other side of the call. “Captain Billings? Generals Moreland and Philpot from Washington are here to see you, sir. Stat!”
“I’ll be right out, Burkes. Offer them some refreshments.”
“Way ahead of you, Captain. They are on a tight schedule, sir.”
“I’m coming.”
In less than a minute, Captain Gordon Billings appeared at the door leading from the reception area into the detention center.
“Generals, I’m Captain Gordon Billings. Welcome to the Detroit Detention Center. How may I assist you?” Billings was deferential in posture and tone. Private Burkes suppressed a grin.
“Something to eat or drink?”
“Burkes was very kind, Captain. He offered but we declined. We have very little time.”
“Duly noted. Come on in.” Billings looked exactly as Blake described, with the stick up the ass and everything. They walked a short way down a narrow hallway and stopped at a small office. Billings motioned the two senior officers into the office and hand-motioned them to occupy two seats in front of his desk.
General Philpot ignored him and sat in Billings’ executive chair. He motioned for Billings to have a seat next to Moreland, on the opposite side of the desk. Billings did as he was ordered.
“We are looking for someone,” Philpot revealed. “Actually, we’re looking for two kids. Supposedly, they were brought here. I doubt they’re still here, the way we move these people around, but this was their initial stop. We need to find them and stop the bleeding.”
“The bleeding, sir?” Billings inquired.
“Two children were picked up in a raid on their school in . . .” Philpot again referred to the paper in his hand. “Lincoln Park,” he appeared to read off the paper.
“I remember the raid, sir. What about these kids?”
“Did anyone bother to inquire as to their citizenship?” General Moreland demanded.
“No, sir. The orders to raid the school came directly from Washington. Why would we question orders?”
“I’m not asking if you questioned orders, soldier! I’m asking if you questioned citizenship!” Philpot snapped. “Aren’t all detainees interrogated?”
“These were children. If I recall correctly, they were the children of a couple of undocumented workers from the raid on the Riverview filler plant. Most of those were from Venezuela. We don’t usually interrogate children.”
“Did it occur to you or anyone in your charge that these kids might have been born in the U.S.A., Captain?” Philpot dropped the hammer.
“Sir? How is that possible?”
“That’s what we want to know, Billings. How is it possible that you and your staff could be so incompetent as to arrest and imprison two completely innocent American citizens?”
The color drained from Billings’ face. “Sir, as I indicated, the orders to conduct the raid on the school followed the raid on the filler plant. We were ordered to locate and detain these two children . . . uh . . . I forget their names, ‘Rodriguez,’ ‘Lopez,’ ‘Hernandez,’ or some other Mexican name of some sort,” Billings stammered.
“All those names sound alike, do they, Billings? They all look alike too, right?”
“Sir, with all due respect, I was only following orders.”
“Isn’t that what the Nazis claimed, Billings?”
“Sir?”
“Forget it, Billings. Gonzalez – Emma and Emilio Gonzalez. Ring a bell?”
“Sir, yes sir!” Billings cried.
“Are they here, Billings?” General Philpot appeared anxious.
“Sir, no sir,” Billings replied.
“Their parents were, indeed, part of the Riverview filler plant raid, Billings,” Moreland advised. Billings relaxed a bit, expelling a short-lived sigh of relief. “But these two kids were born in the United States, you moron! They are American citizens! We have confirmed this. We must find them. Homeland and ICE’s tracking system is awful, to say the least.”
“We agree on that, sir. Let me check and see if I have a file on the children. What are their names, again, sir?”
“Emma and Emilio Gonzalez.”
“Permission to leave to go check the file, generals?” Billings rose.
“Ahem, permission granted!” Philpot cleared his throat, suppressing another grin. Billings exited the room. Moreland addressed Philpot immediately after Billings left the room. “You’re laying it on way too thick. Take it down a notch. Micah won’t be happy if we blow this.”
“In a situation like this one, isn’t this how a pissed off general would behave? These boobs have arrested, kidnapped, and imprisoned two American children for over two months! They separated them from their parents and sent them God knows where. How pissed should a genuine two-star general be? This Billings character needs to feel our wrath.”
The door opened and Billings entered the room with a file in his hand. He sat down, opened the file, and began to read. “Emma and Emilio Gonzalez, Lincoln Park, Michigan—children of Mary Carmen and Miguel Gonzalez—undocumented immigrants arrested in the filler plant raid. They were first brought here, then flown to a detention camp in El Paso.”
“Texas?” Philpot exploded. “Why the . . . why would they take Michigan children all the way to Texas?” Philpot fought to curb his outrage and language.
“Because we have no facilities for children here in the Midwest or anywhere in the northeastern sections of the country. All children’s detention centers are located in the south, most near the Mexican border,” Billings advised. “Surely you know this, General.” For the first time since they walked through his door, Billings regarded Philpot with suspicion.
Philpot gathered himself. “Of course, I know this, Billings. I’m just angry as hell about this whole affair. How the hell does Washington order the arrests of American citizens? There will be hell to pay for whoever screwed the pooch on this one,” Philpot raged. Billings recoiled back into his defensive cocoon.
“Be a good gent, Billings. Copy that file for us? We’ll be on our way, hopefully, to correct this travesty and prevent the damned lawsuit that will surely be filed if we don’t fix this.” Moreland promised, playing good cop to Philpot’s bad cop.
“Right away, sir.” He rose and left the room.
“Good save,” Moreland sighed. I really thought you were going to blow our cover with that ‘what are they doing in Texas’ shit.”
“Couldn’t have pulled it off without your ‘good cop,’ General Moreland.” Philpot saluted. Billings walked back into the office.
“Generals, here’s a full copy of the file and the report. I’m awfully sorry about this. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No, Billings, I think you’ve done quite enough, don’t you?” Philpot snapped. He drew another glare from Moreland.
“Sir, again, I only followed the orders I received from Homeland. I have them in writing, in the file.”
“We will note that in our report, Billings,” Moreland ‘good copped.’
“That would be greatly appreciated, General.”
“In fact, Billings, we could keep your name out of the report entirely.” Moreland floated the life-saving device.
“Sir?” Billings seemed to like the idea.
“Say nothing of our visit, your participation, or our receipt of the file. We weren’t here and we never met. We obtained this information of our own devices. Sound good?” Moreland floated.
“Sounds great,” Billings cried. “But how could you possibly obtain the information on your own?”
“Leave that to us. Do we have an agreement, and do I have your word?”
“Pleasure to be of service, General.” Billings stood and saluted. The two men rose awkwardly and saluted back, banging elbows in the process. Billings looked confused.
Billings escorted the two generals to the lobby. The receptionist was gone. A yellow sticky note with the names Generals Philpot and Moreland sat on the desk. Moreland scooped up the notes and crumbled them in his right fist.
“A pleasure to meet you, Billings. Thanks for your assistance,” Philpot blustered.
“We’ve never met, sir,” Billings smiled and winked.
“You’re a quick study, Billings. When this is all over, I am going to recommend you for a promotion,” Moreland promised.
“Hard to do that for someone you never met and don’t know, but thanks for the thought. Your secret is safe with me, gentlemen. I’m content with having no role in this entire affair.”
“What affair, young man? What’s your name?”
“Exactly, sir. Have a great day.”
The two generals walked out into the parking lot, eyed each other, and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Wow, that bit worked beyond my wildest dreams. Wait until Micah and Reed get a look at this file. They’ll be thrilled! Maybe we’ll get a bonus,” Moreland exclaimed.
“From Mr. Cheap, Micah Love? Dream on!”
“Well, bonus or no bonus, that was a great performance, best of your career.”
“Back at you, man. What career?”
