Immigration: Shackles and Bonds

The New Haven 30 have their first day in court.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
By Betsy Yagla

Rosa Mendez waited patiently in the Hartford immigration courtroom. Each time another black-haired shackled man entered the courtroom, her eyes looked up at him hopefully. She was hoping to see her cousin, Alejandro Alvarez.

Alvarez was not in court last Thursday. Alvarez, 23, was taken from the deli where he works in North Haven along with his father. Another man waiting at the bus stop in front of the deli was also picked up by Immigrations and Customs Enforcement, just days after 30 undocumented immigrants were arrested in New Haven. Mendez does not know where her cousin is.

But she did know most of the 15 immigrants who filed into the courtroom one by one on Thursday wearing khaki prison garb. Many are from Mendez's native Tlaxcala, Mexico. Their family members in Mexico are uncertain of what's happened to those in New Haven; many have only heard rumors, says Mendez.

The immigrants were shackled at the ankles and a metal chain around their waist was attached to their handcuffed hands.

"That's not necessary," says Mendez of the chains. "It's not logical" to have them so restrained. They're not criminals—they're immigrants, she says.

Some men smiled at the audience sitting in the small blue room. Others kept their eyes down. All were told that their cases would be postponed until June 20.

The first man to appear had been put on the court's calendar mistakenly. He sat down next to a group of Yale Law School lawyers. Then he was removed from the courtroom. "Will I be able to speak with my wife?" he asked in Spanish before leaving the room. His case was heard that afternoon, and his wife was there to see him.

The immigrants' law team was headed by Yale Law professor Michael Wishnie. Law students played musical chairs with the seat next to him, depending on the client. The judge, Garry Malphrus, had been brought in from Arlington, Va. Malphrus is a politically connected lawyer who was appointed to be an immigration judge in 2005. He has straw-blond hair and an accent reminiscent of Dana Carvey doing George H.W. Bush.

Lawyers argued that ICE committed "egregious violations of constitutional rights." Everyone at trial that day had been arrested without a warrant, says Wishnie. Some had been picked up on the streets, and lawyers say they were singled out because of their race.
Malphrus asked the lawyers to focus on the bond issue.

The majority of the men have bond set at $15,000. Unlike criminal proceedings, they need to pay the full $15,000 to get out of jail. This was their first court appearance, and they were asking for the bond to be reduced. Two immigrant women who were also arrested in the June 6 raids had their bond hearings June 13 in Boston. The women, Damiana Reyes from the Dominican Republic and Teresa Vara Gonzalez from Mexico, had their bonds reduced significantly—to $1,500 and $3,500 respectively.

Wishnie told the court about those reductions.

"I don't care what happened in Boston," snapped ICE's lawyer, Leigh Mapelback.

José Efraín Solana Yangua sat silently through this back-and-forth. He clenched and unclenched his jaw. He kept his eyes cast downward while his lawyers told the judge that he has had regular employment at a landscaping company since moving to New Haven in 2000. He's paid taxes since 2003, he owns a car and has a bank account. He takes weekly English classes. He's only had one run-in with the law: He was caught driving without a license, but then he appeared in court and promptly paid his fine. To his defense team's surprise, Mapelback produced Solana Yangua's drivers license from Michigan, something which she says calls into question his ties to New Haven.

Solana Yangua and his brother, Edizon Fernando Yangua-Calva who was also in court that day, are the sole bread-winners for their diabetic father and four younger brothers, who live in Ecuador.

Malphrus wanted proof of Solana Yangua's work history. He asked for pay stubs and tax receipts. The hearing was continued until June 20, to give the lawyers time to dig up this type of paperwork for all their clients.

Rosa Mendez was the only family member in the courtroom that day, hoping for a glimpse of her loved ones. The other immigrants' family members, she said are "too scared of the authorities," to go to court.