‘Heart wrenching’
Taken from father at border, migrant boy clings to sketches of family
Taken from his father at the border, a Honduran migrant boy clings to sketches of his family.
When he landed in Michigan in late May, all the weary little boy carried was a trash bag stuffed with dirty clothes from his dayslong trek across Mexico, and two small pieces of paper — one a stick-figure drawing of his family from Honduras, the other a sketch of his father, who had been arrested and led away after they arrived at the U.S. border in El Paso.
A U.S. government escort handed over the 5-year-old child, identified on his travel documents as José, to the American woman whose family was entrusted with caring for him. He refused to take her hand. He did not cry. He was silent on the ride “home.”
The first few nights, he cried himself to sleep. Then it turned into “just moaning and moaning,” said Janice, his foster mother. He recently slept through the night for the first time, though he still insists on tucking the family pictures under his pillow.
José’s separation from his father is part of the Trump administration’s latest and most widely debated border enforcement policy. Last month, Attorney General Jeff Sessions announced that the government would criminally prosecute everyone who crosses the border illegally, a directive that is already leading to the breakup of hundreds of migrant families and channeling children into shelters and foster homes across the country.
The goal, according to administration officials, is to discourage Central American families from making the journey to the United States’ border, where they have been arriving in swelling numbers to claim asylum.
In the first two weeks under President Donald Trump’s new family separation policy, 638 parents who arrived with 658 children had been prosecuted, administration officials told Congress.
Homeland Security Secretary Kirstjen Nielsen emphasized that separating families was not the aim but merely the effect of a decision to step up prosecutions of those who cross the border illegally. “We do not have a policy to separate children from their parents. Our policy is, if you break the law, we will prosecute you,” she told the Senate Homeland Security and Governmental Affairs Committee on May 15.
She said the Trump administration is doing a better job than its predecessors in ensuring that migrant children are placed with sponsors who are carefully screened. “We can make sure that the children go to people who are actually family members and who are not traffickers and who won’t abuse them,” she said.
Whether the policy will succeed as a deterrent remains an open question. What is clear is that it is creating heartbreak and trauma for those subjected to it, with parents and children often unaware of one another’s whereabouts.
Before the so-called zero-tolerance policy was officially announced May 7, the Trump administration already had begun prosecuting some parents and sending their children to government shelters. KIND, an organization that provides minors with legal counsel, says it is aware of at least six children left behind after their parents were deported, including a 2-year-old girl.
In several letters to the Department of Homeland Security, the American Academy of Pediatrics has urged an end to parent-child separation, which researchers have said can cause lifelong trauma. When the policy was unveiled, the academy’s president, Dr. Colleen Kraft, said she was dismayed at its “sweeping cruelty.”
José’s last name and that of his foster family, as well as where they live, are not being published in order to protect their privacy.
Since his arrival in Michigan, family members said, a day has not gone by when the boy has failed to ask when he will see his father.
They tell him the truth. They do not know. No one knows.
José’s father is in detention, and parent and child until this week had not spoken since they were taken into the custody of U.S. authorities.
“I am watching history happen before my eyes. It’s horrendous,” said Janice, 53.
The one thing that animated José after his arrival in Michigan was discussing his “photos,” as he called the family drawings.
He introduced “mi familia,” pointing to the figures of his parents, brother and younger sister. Staring intensely at the sketch of his father, with a slight mustache and a cap, he repeated his name out loud again and again.
“He holds onto the two pictures for dear life,” Janice said, through tears. “It’s heart-wrenching.”
Janice does not blame José’s parents for putting him through the ordeal.
In early May, she traveled to Central America to see for herself the conditions on the ground, and returned convinced that gang-fueled violence, extortion and recruitment of children were compelling parents to make the arduous journey with their children to the United States.
Earlier this week, José spoke on the phone with his father in detention and his mother in Honduras.
The calls went smoothly, according to José’s case manager.
But they changed everything. Somehow, it had sunk in that there was no way of knowing when José would see his family. “It triggered all the separation trauma again,” said Janice.
She tried to offer him his toys, but he erupted in anger, screaming and crying at the kitchen table for almost an hour.
When his fury subsided, the boy collapsed on the kitchen floor, still sobbing. “Mama, Papa,” he said, over and over.
Nearby lay the family pictures, which he had flung on the floor.