State becomes home to many migrant children

As children from places such as El Salvador, Honduras, Guatemala and Nicaragua flee their native countries in hopes of reaching the U.S. southern border, some have gone on to new homes here in Connecticut.

In March, a record 19,000 migrant children were apprehended at the border by agents for U.S. Customs and Border Protection — double the levels from February and the most ever in a single month, NPR reported.

The U.S. Border Patrol facilities in Texas have become overcrowded as migrant children await relocation to shelters run by the Department of Health and Human Services. Due to the overcrowding, the Biden administration is considering placing migrant children at temporary shelters in other states.

Vice President Kamala Harris asked Gov. Ned Lamont Lamont during a visit to the state last month whether Connecticut could house some of these children on an interim basis, but that plan was put on pause, Lamont said Thursday.

“At this point I think the White House said ‘Let’s take a pause. I think we’re taking care of these kids elsewhere right now. But we really appreciate the heart of the state of Connecticut to reach out and give us some options,’” the governor said.

One of the sites being considered by the Lamont administration, the shuttered Connecticut Juvenile Training School, drew criticism from several advocacy groups in the state who said it was an unfit space for these children.

While the children are in the shelters, case managers work to vet sponsors, in some cases family members, or other people they know who are already living in the U.S. who they can release them to.

Once a sponsor is identified for these children, that’s when organizations like the Bridgeport-based Connecticut Institute for Refugees and Immigrants step in.

The organization doesn’t see every migrant child that comes into Connecticut, usually handling about 75 cases a year through a contract with the federal government.

“These children are fleeing for specific reasons,” said Leonela Cruz, director of CIRI’s Project Rescue, which provides programming for unaccompanied minors.

Some of the children have witnessed family members being killed or are forced to join gangs if they stay in their home countries. That’s on top of limited opportunities for schooling and finding work, Cruz said.

Izarelli Mendieta, a case manager with Project Rescue, interviews the minors while they are in the shelters, as well as their identified sponsors and any other household members living with the sponsor.

She makes sure the sponsor and child actually know each other or whether the sponsor has a connection to the child’s family back in their home country, and if the sponsor has sponsored other children, that he or she has followed through with caring for those children.

Once a minor is released to a sponsor, Mendieta handles the case for up to 90 days. She ensures the sponsor enrolls the minor in school, is aware of upcoming immigration court dates, and connects them with legal aid and community resources.

“Ninety days is not enough time but at least they get that initial 90 days. We worry a lot about these other children who get released and get no one to help them out,” Cruz said.

Minors who are identified as victims of abuse or trafficking, or who have a medical condition or disability will be monitored until their 18th birthday or until they receive immigration status or an order of deportation, Mendieta said. Cases flagged because there’s a concern with the sponsor will also be monitored for a longer period of time.

“A lot of these children have history of trauma ranging from anxiety, PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) to a history of sexual and physical abuse,” Mendieta said.

One of the biggest struggles is connecting them with mental health services. Given they are undocumented, they don’t qualify for health insurance, so any therapy sessions have to be paid for out of pocket.

The coronavirus pandemic has made it even more difficult for sponsors, who are financially responsible for the minors including finding legal representation for them, to make ends meet.

The pandemic has also made Mendieta’s work more difficult. She’s had to navigate enrolling children, who in some cases speak indigenous languages, in virtual schooling from homes where they often don’t have access to laptops or reliable Internet. In some cases, Mendieta has dealt with kids or sponsors who are illiterate.

The children, who often require additional assistance such as English language training, have struggled with being cut off from in-person support from their teachers and peers, she said. On top of that, they’ve been isolated in a new place that is unfamiliar to them.

“Some of the kids haven’t seen their parents in years so it’s like living with a stranger in a way because they’re not someone they grew up with,” Mendieta said. “They were under care of another family member.”

Mendieta said she’s had cases involving children as young as one, minors who make the journey pregnant, and siblings traveling together.