Enduring Hope: Jaime's Story

Jaime’s heart beat quickly as he watched the plane descend toward the Miami airport. He could see palm trees swaying in the sunshine, and these familiar things gave him some semblance of peace as he began to acknowledge that he was finally here in the United States – far from family, from everything he knew, but at last safe. 

He got off the plane, and for the first time in months didn’t feel like he had to watch over his shoulder. He had been being tracked and followed by the Venezuelan government for a long time for his public opposition to Maduro’s rule. He and his family had been receiving threats frequently, most often targeting him, so much so that they determined that the best thing was for him to leave, not knowing when he’d return.  

Finding the money for a plane ticket to the United States had required his parents to sell precious items, including their own engagement rings. But, they told him, they’d do anything to keep him safe.  

He obtained a tourist visa to the United States, believing that he could apply for asylum and be safe from Maduro’s agents. After tearful goodbyes, he had boarded his flight.

Jaime had a few distant family connections here in the United States, including one in Miami. He left the airport and was greeted warmly by his father’s good friend, with whom he knew he could stay for a few days. But the first major challenge was that he needed a job. 

At his father’s suggestion, Jaime called another family friend who was living in Utah. When this friend answered the phone, Jaime explained his situation – he needed a job, and a place to stay temporarily. Ah, yes, the friend responded. He could get Jaime a job in painting and construction, he said, but it was in there Utah. Could he make it to Utah? Jaime said he would try. 

Three days later, Jaime was on another plane to Utah, using nearly the last of his savings. The next morning, he showed up at his new job at 7 a.m. 

Those first weeks he slept on his father’s friend’s lumpy couch. He worked every day at the painting company. With his first check after two weeks, he rented a room in an apartment. With his second, he got access to a car. With his third, he started sending money home to his parents, who desperately needed the help – his mother had a brain tumor, and his father, cancer. His parents had recently had to move and go into hiding because they kept receiving death threats.  

Jaime sat at a table in the main room of his detention pod. His head ached from the noise and fluorescent lighting. He was surrounded by other men who were chatting and milling about – but he felt utterly alone.

He had been here at the Aurora, Colorado, detention center for a month. After six years of living in the United States, a run in with law enforcement had led to his arrest, which had led to immigration detention. Here he was sitting behind walls, while his family and his new life waited for him outside, his loved ones believing he would be returned to Venezuela to face death threats.

In those six years, he had managed to help his parents join him in the United States, and they were now free of the Maduro regime as well, acclimating to newfound freedom and safety. He had also had a daughter – his beloved Lina – who had severe special needs and was now almost 6 years old. Jaime was a primary provider for her and a supporter of his parents.

That evening, Jaime went to the phone booths and dialed Hector’s number. His heart beat a little faster, as it always did when reaching out to another potential representative. On the third ring, he heard, “Hello?” 

Jaime explained who he was and why he was calling. Hector was immediately warm and kind. He said Jaime’s case did sound difficult, but that didn’t mean it was impossible. He told Jaime he’d look into it and call him back within 24 hours.  

Jaime hung up and felt a powerful emotion pass over him like a wave – was it hope? Something in him had told him not to give up. Here, finally, was someone who would at least inquire, would at least try. 

Jaime later reflected that the next 24 hours felt like some of the longest of his life. But the next evening Hector did indeed call back. And, to Jaime’s great joy, he agreed to take the case. 

“I won’t lie – this will be hard,”
Hector told him.
“But I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

Jaime felt himself choking up with gratitude. He thought of Lina – perhaps there was a chance he could be with her again. 

Hector was true to his word. He resubmitted Jaime’s asylum case. He told Jaime asylum would be very difficult to win, but that they’d try various strategies to get him out.  

Five more months passed. Every day in detention felt like torture, but Jaime was kept alive by the hope that Hector’s advocacy gave him. Their calls and check ins about his legal case made him feel like it was possible – maybe he could live freely again. 

Finally the day came of his asylum hearing. Jaime trembled as he faced the judge. Hector was there, encouraging him to not give up faith. After what felt like hours, the judge gave the final judgement – withholding of removal. Hector smiled – it was not asylum, but it was a win. Jaime would at least not be returned to Venezuela! 

But freedom was still elusive: ICE decided to keep him in detention for another 90 days, as the government was going to try to deport him to another country. But over those weeks, each country they inquired with declined to take him. Jaime lived on pins and needles, expecting bad news, but with a little flame of hope alive inside him.  

Jaime was on his way to work. While he walked the ankle monitor rubbed painfully against his legs, awkwardly positioned around pants and work boots. As he made his way toward the work site, he wondered to himself how many more mornings he would have like this – safe, here, in the United States. 

Several months ago he had gotten a call from his ICE parole officer out of the blue. The officer had told him that he had better start selling his possessions and getting his affairs in order because on November 4, he would be deported. They weren’t sure where to yet (he could not be deported to Venezuela), but they were working with several countries to figure out where they could send him.  

The officer’s words had seemed final. They had sent a deep chill through him; a sense of dread penetrated his heart. What on earth would he do if deported to some unknown country? More importantly, how would his family survive without him? Hector had told him it wasn’t necessarily the end – ICE did this kind of thing to mess with people, to prompt them to self-deport before their cases were resolved. But still, the threat – and concrete date of deportation – loomed over him. 

Later on that October day, while Jaime was on a break from work, he got a call from Hector. 

“Jaime, great news. ICE called me to say they will be removing your ankle bracelet. You are no longer scheduled for deportation since we were able to file an adjustment of status application after you got married. They will call you soon to schedule the ankle monitor removal!” 

Jaime was stunned. Could it be true – could he be free of this weight? Could he begin to trust in a safe future, with Lina and Mariana? He closed his eyes and pinched his fore brow with his fingers, trying to take it in. 

A few days later, he went to the ICE office again with Lina. She watched as they removed the monitor. Jaime’s voice was gruff with emotion, his smile was a mile wide, as he embraced Lina and then shook the hands of the officers. 

As they left, one of the ICE officers whom he’d come to know said to him, “Good luck, man. You are a good father. I hope things work out for you.” 

Jaime was able to give him a genuine smile. They were on opposite sides of the law, and of justice, but somehow there was real warmth in the man’s voice and eyes -- a glimmer of goodness even here. 

He opened the door and walked with Lina out into the sunshine. He took deep breaths. Freedom, safety, stability – these were real, and now he felt he could taste them. 

CLINIC wishes to thank Jaime* for so generously sharing his story. Please join us in praying for Jaime and his family, that they might have lasting unity, safety, and stability.

CLINIC also wishes to thank Hector Gonzales and the other staff at Connect Immigration for their assistance in identifying this story and developing it. Your kindness and your work change lives.

*All names have been changed, except Hector Gonzales', for privacy.