Fleeing for safety: An immigrant’s journey

After Mario José Perez-Suazo refused the Nicaraguan paramilitary’s request for him to murder civilian protesters, he was brutally beaten and labeled a terrorist. The government denounced him, and Mario decided to flee the town of Estelí and seek political asylum in the United States.

Desperate, he left his home in May 2018 for a 10-day journey by bus to the U.S. He crossed through Honduras, El Salvador and Guatemala before reaching the border at Reynosa, Mexico.

He arrived prepared and hopeful. Not only had Mario brought his passport, but he also carried a photo of his marred face from the assault, as well as an official document that verified his life would be in danger were he to remain in Nicaragua.

Making his way across the Texas border, Mario, 43, felt confident he had the proof he needed to seek political asylum.

He was in for a horrifying wake-up call when he turned himself in at Hidalgo.

The events of that night – and the subsequent 135 days – led Mario to the Southeast Immigrant Freedom Initiative (SIFI), a project of the SPLC that enlists pro bono counsel for those facing deportation proceedings in the Southeast. 

Trapped and alone

Upon entry, Mario was met by a U.S. Customs and Border Patrol (CBP) officer.

“What are you doing here?” the officer asked.

“Seeking asylum,” Mario said.

“Why?” the officer responded aggressively.

Mario, eager to tell his story, recapped the tragedies of the last few months – that Nicaragua was in the throes of a political upheaval, with the majority of citizens fearful of vicious government reprisals.

He told the officer that he respected the law, which is why he had brought proof to seek political asylum. He explained the paramilitary’s attack and showed him the picture of his bruised and bloodied face. He provided the letter which testified to his story. Finally, Mario presented the officer with his passport. 

But the officer didn’t believe him.

Instead, he took Mario’s passport and refused to return it before calling him a “mentiroso,” a liar, among other hurtful and racist remarks.

“I came with a mountain of proof,” Mario said. “I came prepared for my case. But he was very, very mean.”

As he insisted his story was true, the officer became more incensed. He mocked and belittled Mario before forcing him to rip apart his documents or face a criminal charge. He alleged that Mario was a drunk and that the wounds on his face were a result of a bar brawl. He branded him an alcoholic before pointing a gun at him.

Mario was stunned. He was an honest man. He had no reason to lie. He was not a drinker, and his background was clean. He had never been in any trouble with the law before that night.

“I thought that after this long voyage, he would believe me,” Mario said. “He didn’t respect me. When I told him I was seeking asylum and he asked me to destroy my documents, I was terrified.”

When faced with the officer’s threat, Mario felt he had no choice but to destroy the evidence he had carried with him through five countries.

After that, he was transported to a hielera – a temporary holding facility known for its frigid temperature. On the way, Mario broke down into tears. 

“I cried,” Mario said. “When I arrived here, I was filled with so much hope, but it wasn’t the arrival I had imagined. It was a completely different thing. My hope transformed into fear, and now I was trapped. I was trapped and alone.”

Inside the hielera, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) officials informed Mario that he needed to take his credible fear interview – the interview given to asylum seekers which determines whether an immigrant’s fear of home is sound.

The interview lasted more than four hours, during which Mario wasn’t once allowed to use the restroom.

“I was very, very cold sitting there in that freezing room,” he said. “I asked to go to the bathroom, but they wouldn’t let me. From the beginning, they were against me.”

Mario explained to the ICE officials how the CBP officer forced him to destroy his documentation. He also explained that he was seeking asylum in the U.S. due to political persecution in Nicaragua. If he were to return to home, death would be imminent.

“I came to the U.S. only out of necessity,” he said. “I can’t return to my country – at all. They will kill me.”

He’s not the only one.

According to an article in The New York Times, droves of Nicaraguans were also escaping the country’s political crisis, a crisis that had resulted in the killing of at least 300 people, with nearly 600 others – many government opponents – missing.

Sick, sad and angry

From Hidalgo, Mario was transported over 1,100 miles to Lumpkin, Georgia, where he was detained at Stewart Detention Center. It was at Stewart where Mario – under the “protection” of the U.S. government – saw his situation worsen.

Confined to a small space with over 100 other men, his psychological state plummeted. There was no peace within the crowded room. To boot, the guards who meandered the hallways yelled racist comments to him in English.

At night, as Mario tried to sleep on the tiny bunk bed, lamps were left on, illuminating the room and preventing him from resting. Even if sleeping conditions were ideal, Mario was a prisoner of his mind, unable to rest as his thoughts circled back to his wife and children, ages 21 and 16, in Nicaragua.

“I was constantly thinking of my children,” he said. “They consumed my thoughts. I missed my wife, my country, my job, everything. I was captive.”

Upon waking, he was allotted 10 minutes to go outside for “recess.” When it was time to eat, Mario refused. The reason? For 15 days straight, he found worms in his food. Mario wasn’t alone. When the SPLC interviewed detained immigrants in 2016 for its report Shadow Prisons, they raised similar concerns about the food, with some detained immigrants saying they had found worms and insects in their meals.

Mario soon found the days soon dragged into months at Stewart. He began to wonder if he would ever be free – if this nightmare would ever end.

“In my mind, I thought I might never leave,” he said. “Every day, I was frustrated. I hadn’t done anything to deserve to be there. I was sick. I was sad. I was angry.”

He decided to represent himself – otherwise known as pro se representation – for his master calendar hearings, the beginning of efforts made to remove an immigrant from the U.S. During his last hearing, he filed his I-589, the application for asylum.

At the time, Mario didn’t have a choice but to represent himself. Unlike a person facing criminal charges, detained immigrants are not guaranteed an attorney at government expense. Because their charges are civil in nature, they are allowed an attorney – but they must cover the cost. For many detained immigrants, such as Mario, this simply isn’t feasible.

Finally free  

Mario, however, wouldn’t have to represent himself for long. On Sept. 13, 2018, the SIFI team took his case. With an attorney by his side, he was automatically 10-and-a-half times more likely to succeed in his case, according to research. On Oct.5, 2018, he had his first and only bond hearing, which he won.

Seven days later, Mario was released.

“We hope that other clients like Mario will be able to be released from detention on bond or parole,” said SIFI Attorney Matt Boles, who represented Mario. “Mario’s case is a great example that asylum seekers should not be detained while their cases are pending.”

For over four months, Mario was locked up at Stewart. Stepping away from the immigrant prison, he was overcome with gratitude.

“I don’t have the words to describe how grateful I was, how grateful I am, to Matt and the SIFI team,” he said.

Once released, Mario took a 19-hour bus ride to New York City, where his sister and four brothers welcomed him to the Big Apple. It is here where Mario awaits the outcome of his asylum case.

“We are extremely pleased that Mario is now with his family in New York while his political opinion asylum case is pending with the immigration court,” Boles said. “No one should be persecuted the way that people persecuted him in Nicaragua. He can now focus on proving that he should receive asylum without being detained and having limited access to resources and being isolated.”

Broken dreams

While relieved to be in the U.S., the aftermath of all that Mario has endured lingers like a bad dream. The torment he faced in Nicaragua, coupled with his time in detention, has greatly affected him.

“I feel sad,” he said. “I don’t have the energy to eat. I don’t know what’s going to happen with my life. I’m worried, and that removes any happiness.”

Unfortunately, Mario is like so many other immigrants – immigrants whose dreams are shattered by a harsh reality once they make it to the border. For Mario, it seems as though he’s traded a country where he faced almost certain death for a country where he is demonized.

“I thought the U.S. was a different type of country,” he said. “I had hope. But I came to a country with a racist president. I never thought this would happen to me, and it shouldn’t happen to anyone.”

Photo by Alfredo Estrella/Getty Images