Illegal Immigration: Closing the Gates ... Mom, kids joining deported dad in Mexico
By Adam Parker (Contact)
The Post and Courier
Sunday, March 16, 2008


Before driving off to Mexico on Friday morning Melanie Bernal hugs her daughter Hope while daughter Joy waits. Twelve-year-old Hope will stay in Mount Pleasant and live with her father David Snell (background) and Melanie, Joy and daughter London, 4, will join husband and father Ramon Bernal in Mexico, who was deported because of his immigration status.

Wade Spees
The Post and Courier

Before driving off to Mexico on Friday morning Melanie Bernal hugs her daughter Hope while daughter Joy waits. Twelve-year-old Hope will stay in Mount Pleasant and live with her father David Snell (background) and Melanie, Joy and daughter London, 4, will join husband and father Ramon Bernal in Mexico, who was deported because of his immigration status.
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Moving to Mexico

Melanie Bernal and 2 of her children, Joy ,7, and London, 4, left for Mexico on Friday morning to join Melanie's husband and the girls' father Ramon Bernal who had been deported because of his immigration status. Melanie Bernal's twelve-year-old daughter Hope will stay in Mount Pleasant to live with her father David Snell.

Melanie and Ramon Bernal are pictured before he returned to Mexico because of his immigration status. The photo was taken during a Christmas trip to Asheville, N.C.

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As legislators in Columbia and other state capitals forge immigration reform bills, all the while railing at Congress for its inability to come up with a solution, Americans fume and worry over what they perceive to be either a threat or a potential boon. It's a debate that often is portrayed as a choice between amnesty or deportation.

The Bernal family is caught in the middle — and struggling to stay together.

Full circle

It all started in 1987. That's when Ramon came to the United States illegally from San Luis Potosi in central Mexico. He was 18, pushed like so many other poor, young men to seek a better life up north, to help his family from a distance.

He was scared, but he came. He was dropped off in Atlanta, his wife says, and "lived in a place where everyone looked like a criminal." He was unemployed for several weeks, then eventually found a job cooking and cleaning for someone. A little later, he found work as a gardener. He earned $3 an hour.

Little by little, he established himself. He settled in the Lowcountry in 1999 and started a painting company. He worked hard, paid taxes, began to contribute to the local economy.

Melanie Snell was a South Carolina native with a daughter from a previous marriage. In October 2001, she and Ramon married and decided to apply for Ramon's citizenship. They wanted to set things straight, Melanie says. They knew they likely would be penalized in some way. But they also knew they needed to abide by the law because a family can't prosper when uncertainty looms overhead.

"We had no idea what we were in store for," Melanie says.

Years went by with minimal communication between the Bernals and immigration authorities. Two babies were born. The painting business took off. Ramon was doing work on beach houses, big jobs. The family bought a house in The Peninsula subdivision off Clements Ferry Road on Daniel Island. They bought a Ford Expedition. The bought a work van and other equipment. They sent their daughter, Joy, to Palmetto Christian Academy.

Finally, after several queries, they received word from the authorities in the form of a letter that arrived at the house while the family was on a Christmas vacation in North Carolina: Ramon would have to return to Mexico and wait while his petition for a visa waiver was processed. Once in Mexico, the Bernals learned that it could take about a year, but he says they were told that he was married to a U.S. citizen and surely would be able to return.

Ramon left his family in January 2007. He had been living in the U.S. for 20 years. His English is pretty good now. He was no longer accustomed to the poverty and dangers of Mexico. He returned to San Luis Potosi, where his mother lives, with no job prospects. He couldn't make a cell phone call unless he climbed to the top of the nearby mountain where he could get a signal.

He struggled to find a job. He was robbed at knife-point. He had close calls with thugs.

Ramon went to Puerto Vallarta on the Pacific coast, where he had vacationed with his family. He remembered the building boom. Job prospects would be better in a nice tourist town, he thought.

"Puerto Vallarta is beautiful when you go like a tourist," Ramon says by telephone. "But with no money and no place to live, it's the opposite."

Behind the big hotels, swimming pools and cabanas, it can be ugly. And dangerous. Trash is strewn in the lots. Residents must navigate mud and waste as they make their way along the roads. The schools are full or bad or unreliable.

He thought he had put all of this behind him.

Desperation

It took 11 months, but the family got its answer from immigration officials: The waiver was denied. The Bernals failed to demonstrate a sufficient amount of "extreme hardship," the letter explained. Ramon could petition for an appeal, but that would take about a year and a half, and it might not work. He simply could wait in line for who knows how long, maybe years.

"Why they do that?" he asks. "I worked hard in the U.S. I did nothing to nobody. I settled down, tried to raise a family, I tried to do the right thing."

Ramon is afraid of losing his family. "I love the United States," he says. "It's not fair."

Melanie and the children had visited Mexico a few times during the past year, and in December they went again so the family could be together for Christmas. Shortly after Melanie returned home, Ramon consulted with some church friends. They told him a man's responsibility is first and foremost to his family. That's what the Bible says.

So, driven by desperation, he did something rash. He tried to sneak across the border again.

This time, he didn't make it. After he was caught, the U.S. prosecutor in Laredo, Texas, wanted the judge to sentence Ramon to 90 days in jail. The judge asked Ramon why he tried to cross illegally, for the second time. Ramon explained that his family was here, his life was here.

The jail requirement was waived, but he was returned to Mexico. Ramon says the authorities in Laredo were understanding and fair.

But his decision to break the law a second time by illegally entering the United States turned out to have devastating consequences for the Bernals.

Melanie received another letter from immigration authorities the day after Ramon was caught. The letter congratulated her: the waiver had been approved, a reversal perhaps because of the prodding of Sen. Lindsey Graham's office, which took an interest in the case and sent letters to immigration officials.

But the deportation order had been issued, and it canceled the waiver. Because he has entered illegally twice, Ramon is now barred from the U.S. for 10 years.

The unraveling

In Charleston, Melanie was trying to keep the painting business afloat, but the housing market had taken a turn for the worse. Managing subcontractors was difficult, and work was scattered. Plus, she had two young children and her oldest daughter to take care of, politicians and other connections to query and lots of thinking and planning. She and Ramon also were expecting another baby.

Her parents were long dead; an aunt offered love and moral support. Some people at East Cooper Baptist stepped in, helping to pay some bills.

Little by little, the business was failing.

In Mexico, Ramon was searching for a stable job. He heard that the economy in Monterrey was relatively good, that he would be more likely to find something in this northeastern industrialized city, the third largest in Mexico. He secured a position at a plant that assembles ambulances.

He is earning the equivalent of about $400 a month. He can make a little extra each week by working a sixth day. After a month of searching, he found a decent house in a safe neighborhood 30 minutes outside of the city. He will have to ride a bus to work each day. Rent is $350 a month. He probably will have to take a second job.

The past couple of months have been traumatic for Melanie, and on March 5, it all came to a head. She appeared in bankruptcy court. Trustee Michelle Vieira asked her the usual set of questions:

"Do you have any source of income?"

"None."

"Do you receive child support?"

"No, ma'am. But I pay $255 a month ..."

And then Melanie takes a moment to explain the situation to Vieira.

"I'm religious," she says. "God's got a plan for me. I'm leaving next Friday to join my husband in Mexico."

The hearing was quick. Melanie would forfeit all her assets, including $2,500 of her $3,400 income tax refund. She would drive a donated car.

"That's all the questions I have," Vieira says. After a pause, she adds, "Good luck to you."

Last week, Melanie and Ramon tried desperately, from their respective bases, to gain permission from the Mexican authorities to transport the family furniture across the border. Ramon paid $50 — a lot of money in Mexico — for a notarized letter granting permission for his wife to bring the furniture, but the Mexican Consulate in Raleigh demanded a signature in ink.

"Ramon's in Mexico," Melanie explained to the officials on the telephone.

It was no use. So she is headed to her new home in Monterrey with nothing but two suitcases full of clothes.

Bitterness, resignation

A deaf roommate in college taught Melanie sign language, but that skill is of little use in Mexico. She can't sign in Spanish. She can't work legally until she gets a permit. And, with three children to look after, securing a job soon is unlikely.

She finds some solace in her invigorated faith. God has a plan, she says, but she's unsure what it is yet.

Her daughters Joy, 7, and London, 5, are not fluent in Spanish and are entering a strange new world. Melanie says she will home-school the children at first, settle in and figure things out before deciding on how best to educate them.

She's worried about the children's chronic asthma. What is medical care like in Mexico? She's worried about her own health. Melanie's family has a history of heart disease. Already, she's had two heart catheterizations to clear clogged arteries.

Joy is unsure of what's happening and what it all means. London is too young to understand. Both Melanie and her first husband, David Snell, are concerned about their daughter, Hope.

She is 12 and doesn't know when she'll see her mother again. Mature for her age, she lives mostly with her dad but splits her time between parents. She's a straight-A student at Cario Middle School.

Her mother is glad to be reuniting with Ramon despite the circumstances, but says she is heartbroken to leave Hope.

David is wracked with anxiety by the turn of events. He only learned about the worsening situation before Christmas.

He grasps at solutions that don't exist. He will take care of all the children, he says. He's angry and frustrated. Sure, Melanie and Ramon are caught up in an imperfect system that needs fixing, but they made the choices that led to this, didn't they?

But then he remembers Ramon, what a good father he is, how hard he works, how much he loves his family.

"I could not be without my children for that amount of time," says David, who has two young daughters.

"My biggest concern is, obviously, Hope," he says a few days before Melanie leaves for Mexico. "I think it's really starting to hit her now."

Farewell — for now

On Friday, Melanie packed the last of the family's belongings in the car and prepared to leave her country. It's a 30-hour drive to Monterrey. Hope will stay with her dad and stepmother. David is setting up a computer so Hope can talk with her mom and sisters and see them on the screen.

In the meantime, Melanie and Ramon have a lot to do. The house needs appliances and furniture. The kids need attention and reassurance. Adjusting to a new family life in Mexico is going to be difficult, but Melanie says she still hopes to return to the United States someday.

"The trouble with the immigration system is that it doesn't care about families," she says. "It has no feelings."

Reach Adam Parker at 937-5902 or aparker@postandcourier.com.

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