“The measure of love is how much you are willing to give up for it. What
would you give up for my love?” Pandora asked the Flying Dutchman who was doomed to sail the
seven seas for eternity unless he found a woman who loved him enough to die for
him. “My salvation,” replied the
Flying Dutchman.
“When it comes to immigration, the measure of
one’s love is what one is willing to spend for it.”—Emmanuel Samonte Tipon
Who
of the following would be willing to spend for you if you were placed in
removal proceedings? (1) brother or sister, (2) son or daughter, (3) father or
mother, (5) friend, (6) all of the above, (7) none of the above, (8) yourself.
When
a Bay Area Filipino lawful permanent resident (LPR) asked his neighbor to
return the tires he had loaned him, the neighbor struck the Filipino on the
head with a pipe. The Filipino ran to his garage where he found his revolver
and shot and killed the pursuing neighbor. His Caucasian lawyer (one of those “abogado de plead guilty”) told him that
if he fought the case and lost he would spend 20 years in jail but if he
pleaded guilty she would get him a deal to spend only three years in jail. The
lawyer did not tell him that the penalty for manslaughter was three years even
if he went to trial and lost, nor did she tell him that if he pleaded guilty he
would be deported.
He
was placed in removal proceedings. We suggested that he should hire a
California lawyer to set aside his conviction for ineffective assistance of
counsel. He said that he had no money. His brothers, sisters, and daughters
said they had no money. He was deported.
After he had a fatal heart attack, his daughters wanted to bring back his
remains. They were willing to spend $10,000 to do so yet had been unwilling to
spend for him while he was alive.
An
LPR returned from the Philippines. An immigration officer asked how long he was
abroad. “Less than a year,” he replied. The officer noted that two pages of his
passport had been torn off—including the page showing when he went to the
Philippines. He confessed that he had been abroad for more than one year. He
was placed in removal proceedings for having lost his permanent resident
status. The Immigration Judge asked if he had relatives in the U.S. and their
immigration status. The Filipino who had no lawyer replied that he had a
daughter who was a U.S. citizen. The IJ said that she would continue the
proceedings so that the daughter could file an immigrant visa petition and then
he could apply for adjustment of status. A spectator stood up and said that he
was the son-in-law of the Filipino and that he and his wife (the LPR’s
daughter) had agreed to just let her father go back to the Philippines. After
the hearing I asked the Filipino if he really wanted to go back. He said he did not but they had told him “paspasali ak cano.” (I was in their way
like a nuisance).
An
LPR was found upon arrival to have had a conviction for a crime involving moral
turpitude (following a guilty plea on advice of another abogado de plead guilty). She was placed in removal proceedings.
The IJ continued the proceedings telling her to look for a lawyer. Outside the
court room, she said that she and her sons had been talking about getting a
lawyer but they had told her that they have other obligations. “What kind of
sons do you have?” I asked. “Without you they would not be here on earth. If I
had a mother in a similar situation, I would mortgage my soul to the devil.”
An
LPR was convicted of assault following a guilty plea on his lawyer’s advice
(another abogado de plead guilty). He
was placed in removal proceedings for having been convicted of a crime
involving moral turpitude. His lawyer admitted that the LPR was removable. The
IJ ordered him removed. A panel of the Court of Appeals upheld the removal,
holding that the LPR was bound by his lawyer’s admission. Their friend called
me. I suggested that they file a motion for reconsideration or request a
hearing en banc (all members of the court) or appeal to the Supreme Court. The
LPR’s wife said they had no money. Their friend offered to loan them money but
the wife refused to accept it. He was deported.
An
LPR hired a Caucasian lawyer to defend him from drug trafficking charges.
Instead of negotiating a plea deal for a lesser offense like possession which
does not involve mandatory deportation, the lawyer opted for a trial and lost.
The
LPR was placed in removal proceedings. The mother contacted a Caucasian
immigration lawyer. Later she contacted me because she and the Caucasian could
not understand each other. She said that she loved her son very much and was
willing to spend whatever it took to save him from deportation. “You must have
a lot of money,” I remarked. “No, but I borrowed from the bank,” she replied.
What
if you have no mother who loves you as in the case of a Filipino on a
nonimmigrant visa who is being deported for overstaying? Hearken to Whitney
Houston’s song “Greatest Love of All.” -
“I never found anyone who fulfill my needs… so I learned to depend on me…
I found the greatest love of all, inside of me.”
(Atty. Tipon has a Master of
Laws degree from Yale Law School and a Bachelor of Laws degree from the
University of the Philippines. He specializes in immigration law and criminal
defense. Office: 900 Fort Street, Suite 1110, Honolulu, HI 96813. Tel. (808) 225-2645.
E-Mail: filamlaw@yahoo.com. Websites: www.MilitaryandCriminalLaw.com.
He is from Laoag City and Magsingal, Ilocos Sur. He served as an Immigration
Officer. He is co-author of “Immigration Law Service, 1st ed.,” an
8-volume practice guide for immigration officers and lawyers. This article is a
general overview of the subject matter discussed and is not intended as legal
advice. No warranty is made by the writer or publisher as to its completeness
or correctness at the time of publication. No attorney-client relationship is
established between the writer and readers relying upon and/or acting pursuant
to the contents of this article.)
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