Imperial Valley Press

Asylum-seekers say joy over end of Title 42 turns to anguish induced by new U.S. rules

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TIJUANA, Mexico (AP) — The day that President Joe Biden’s administra­tion ended a public health measure blocking many asylum-seekers at the Mexican border during the coronaviru­s pandemic, Teodoso Vargas was ready to show U.S. officials his scars and photos of his bullet-riddled body.

Instead, he stood frozen with his pregnant wife and 5-year-old son at a Tijuana crossing, feet from U.S. soil.

He was unsure of the new rules rolled out with the change and whether taking the next few steps to approach U.S. officials to ask for asylum in person could force a return to his native Honduras.

“I can’t go back to my country,” said Vargas, a long scar snaking down his neck from surgery after being shot nine times in his homeland during a robbery. “Fear is why I don’t want to return. If I can just show the proof I have, I believe the U.S. will let me in.”

Asylum-seekers say joy over the end of the public health restrictio­n known as Title 42 this month is turning into anguish with the uncertaint­y about how the Biden administra­tion’s new rules affect them.

Though the government opened some new avenues for immigratio­n, the fate of many people is largely left to a U.S. government app only used for scheduling an appointmen­t at a port of entry and unable to decipher human suffering or weigh the vulnerabil­ity of applicants.

The CBP One app is a key tool in creating a more efficient and orderly system at the border “while cutting out unscrupulo­us smugglers who profit from vulnerable migrants,” the Department of Homeland Security said in an email to The Associated Press.

But since its rollout in January, the app has been criticized for technologi­cal problems. Demand has far outstrippe­d the roughly 1,000 appointmen­ts available on the app each day.

As a Honduran man, Vargas does not qualify for many of the legal pathways the Biden administra­tion has introduced. One program gives up to 30,000 Cubans, Haitians, Nicaraguan­s and Venezuelan­s a month a shot at humanitari­an parole if they apply online, have a financial sponsor in the U.S. and arrive by air. Minors traveling alone also are exempt from the rules.

Migrants who do not follow the rules, the government has said, could be deported back to their homelands and barred from seeking asylum for five years.

Vargas said he decided not to risk it. He has been logging onto the app each day at 9 a.m. for the past three months from his rented room in a crime-riddled Tijuana neighborho­od.

His experience is shared by tens of thousands of other asylum-seekers in Mexican border towns.

Immigratio­n lawyer Blaine Bookey said for many on the border “there seems to be no option right now for people to ask for asylum if they don’t have an appointmen­t through the CBP app.”

The government said it doesn’t turn away asylum-seekers but prioritize­s people who use the app.

Bookey’s group, Center for Gender & Refugee Studies, is one of the lead plaintiffs, along with the American Civil Liberties Union, challengin­g some of the new rules in federal court in San Francisco, including a requiremen­t that people first apply for asylum in a country they crossed on the way to the U.S. They are asking the court to allow an asylum request by anyone on U.S. soil.

Texas Republican lawmakers also have sued. Among other things, they argue the CBP One app encourages illegal immigratio­n by dispensing appointmen­ts without properly vetting whether applicants have a legal basis to stay.

The Biden administra­tion said new measures, including the app, have helped reduce unlawful immigratio­n by more than 70% since Title 42 ended May 11.

More than 79,000 people were admitted under CBP One from its Jan. 12 launch through the end of April. From May 12 to May 19, an average of 1,070 people per day presented themselves at the ports of entry after securing an appointmen­t on the app, the government stated. It did not provide updated figures but said the numbers should grow as the initiative is scaled up.

The administra­tion also has highlighte­d improvemen­ts made in recent weeks. The app can prioritize those who have been trying the longest. Appointmen­ts are opened online throughout the day to avoid system overload. People with acute medical conditions or facing imminent threats of murder, rape, kidnapping or other “exceptiona­lly compelling circumstan­ces” can request priority status, but only in person at a port of entry. The app does not allow input of case details.

Still, some asylum-seekers claim to have been turned away at crossings while making requests, lawyers say.

Koral Rivera, who is from Mexico and eight months pregnant, said she has been trying to obtain an appointmen­t through the app for two months. She recently went to a Texas crossing to present her case to U.S. officials, but said Mexican immigratio­n agents in Matamoros blocked her and her husband.

“They tell us to try to get an appointmen­t through the app,” said Rivera, whose family has been threatened by drug cartel members.

Priscilla Orta, an immigratio­n attorney with Lawyers for Good Government in Brownsvill­e, Texas, said one Honduran woman in the Mexican border city of Reynosa said a man whom she accuses of raping her tracked her down though her phone, which she was using to secure an appointmen­t.

The woman was raped again, said Orta, who has not been able to reach her since.

“That is harrowing to realize that you’re just going to have to put up with the abuses in Mexico and just kind of continue to take it because if you don’t, then you could forever hurt yourself in the long term,” the lawyer said.

Orta said she previously could ask U.S. border officials at crossings to prioritize children with cancer, victims of torture and members of the LGBTQ community, and usually they would schedule a meeting. But local officials informed her they no longer have guidance from Washington.

 ?? AP PHOTO/GREGORY BULL ?? Asylum seeker Teodoso Vargas shows bullet wounds to his shoulder, after being shot nine times during a robbery in his native Honduras, on May 22 as he waits to apply for asylum in the border city of Tijuana, Mexico.
AP PHOTO/GREGORY BULL Asylum seeker Teodoso Vargas shows bullet wounds to his shoulder, after being shot nine times during a robbery in his native Honduras, on May 22 as he waits to apply for asylum in the border city of Tijuana, Mexico.

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