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Immigrants: 9/11 Probe Violated Rights

By Gaiutra Bahadur
The Philadelphia Inquirer

BRAMPTON, ONTARIO _ Everything had been set for Akhil Sachdeva’s fresh start.

He had sold his gas station on Long Island to raise money for a sandwich-shop franchise in Toronto. His belongings were boxed up in the basement. He had even arranged to change the odometer on his BMW convertible from miles to kilometers.

Then Sachdeva, a middle-class Hindu about to put a failed marriage and the United States behind him, did one last errand. He returned a call to the FBI, which wanted information about one of his Muslim workers.

That call ultimately landed him in a room with blackened windows in a New Jersey jail, where he sat for four months, caught in a net widely cast by federal agents investigating the Sept. 11 attacks.

Now Sachdeva, 31, a legal resident of Canada since 1998, is suing the U.S. government, as are six other men detained after Sept. 11. They contend they were treated like criminal suspects but denied the constitutional rights of defendants.

The lawsuit, which seeks class-action status on behalf of hundreds of similarly detained immigrants, alleges that the government held them longer than federal law allows on immigration charges, which are civil violations. Meanwhile, the suit says, agents hunted for evidence to tie them to terrorism.

“They were placed under suspicion and presumed guilty until the FBI investigation showed them to be innocent,” said Nancy Chang, a lawyer with the Center for Constitutional Rights, the New York nonprofit group shepherding the lawsuit. “This turns the Constitution on its head.”

The suit seeks damages, the return of seized property, and a declaration that the government violated the Constitution.

The Justice Department has asked that the suit in federal court in New York be dismissed, saying that detaining immigrants, even indefinitely, “may be permissible when motivated by concerns about terrorism or national security.”

The suit cites a June report by the Justice Department’s internal watchdog, which criticized the agency for “the indiscriminate and haphazard manner” in which it labeled many foreign nationals in the terror investigation, with stark consequences for them.

Many were automatically denied bond and held for months before being released or, more often, deported. Some of the 762 detainees were physically abused and kept in maximum-security cells, under the 24-hour glare of lights and cameras, according to the Office of Inspector General.

Federal agents chasing down thousands of anonymous tips after Sept. 11 arrested all illegal immigrants encountered along the way, even if they were not the subject of the tip, the report concluded.

That’s what happened to Sachdeva when he called the FBI about his employee in November 2001.

“I presented myself to the FBI,” said Sachdeva, the son of a teacher and a retired banker from New Delhi. “I had done nothing wrong.”

But he had broken an agreement he made as an illegal immigrant five years ago, when he was caught working on an expired business visa. He had promised federal authorities he would voluntarily leave the United States but ignored the deadline, a breach of immigration law that automatically carries a 10-year ban on returning.

Then, even as Sachdeva won residency in Canada, he continued crisscrossing the border by car, to be with his wife and care for two businesses in the United States.

None of Sachdeva’s reentries piqued the interest of authorities until a few weeks after Sept. 11, when he returned to New York from Canada to make his divorce final.

On Dec. 31, 2001, 11 days after Sachdeva was arrested at his uncle’s Long Island apartment, an immigration judge ordered him deported to Canada within 30 days. Nonetheless, he was held until mid-April.

“Still I don’t understand why,” Sachdeva said during a recent interview in Canada. “What was taking so long?”

Behind the scenes, according to the inspector general’s report, immigration officials worried that they were violating the law by jailing the detainees even after their travel documents were ready and flights could be arranged. Federal law gives authorities 90 days to deport an immigrant, with few exceptions. The Justice Department was taking up to six months to clear them of links to terrorism.

Today, more than a year after his release, Sachdeva says his life “is completely shattered.”
Before his arrest, Sachdeva owned three BMWs and the gas station and ran a pool hall in Queens. Now, the college graduate does odd jobs and pumps gas for $5 an hour. He says that he cannot sleep without pills and that he has gained 80 pounds.

“People say you can build it up again, but how?” he asked.

He does not know what became of his furniture or his cars. He cannot access his bank account, initially frozen by the government, from abroad. And the stigma of his detention dogs him in his job hunt.

“Once they know you got arrested, nobody wants to give you a job,” Sachdeva said. “Jail is a bad thing.”

Passaic County Jail, which housed more Sept. 11 detainees than any other facility in the
United States, was so overcrowded that he shared a cell with sentenced inmates, which is against INS regulations. Sachdeva bears a souvenir of a jailhouse fight, a broken tooth.

Two other plaintiffs in his lawsuit said they had contracted tuberculosis while held at the Metropolitan Detention Center in Brooklyn, where guards allegedly slammed immigrants into walls and taunted them with ethnic slurs. The inspector general concluded there was evidence to support a pattern of physical abuse there.

Sachdeva does not expect to retrieve the tangible things he lost. But he does hope for an acknowledgment that what happened to him broke the laws of this country in ways far more serious than anything he did.

“Nothing can bring your time back,” Sachdeva said. “What is gone is gone. But in the future, it shouldn’t happen again.”

© The Philadelphia Inquirer. All rights reserved.

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Many Pakistanis Flee Atlantic City for Surer Refuge in Canada

Fear shakes immigrant enclave
By Gaiutra Bahadur
The Philadelphia Inquirer

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Many Pakistanis Flee Atlantic City for Surer Refuge in Canada

Fear shakes immigrant enclave
By Gaiutra Bahadur
The Philadelphia Inquirer

The neon go-go girl still flashes near the deli where Mukeem Butt once worked. The streets are still studded with cash-for-gold joints. And an endless train of holiday gamblers and sunbathers continues to animate the Boardwalk.

But away from the hubbub of Atlantic City’s casino economy, there has been a quiet exodus. Al-Taqwah mosque does not bulge at the seams as it used to on Fridays. And behind the counters of the mom-and-pop stores lining the Boardwalk, the faces have changed.

The signs are subtle, as low-key as the illegal immigrants from Pakistan who occupied little-observed nooks here – and then scattered.

Mukeem Butt was among 5,000 Pakistanis nationwide to seek asylum in Canada after 9/11. Mainly, they fled New York. But New Jersey accounted for the second-largest number of refugees, nearly a thousand, according to the Pakistani Embassy in Washington.

Many were terrified they would repeat the experiences of compatriots locked up on immigration charges after the terror attacks. Pakistanis accounted for about a third of the 762 illegal immigrants rounded up in the months after Sept. 11, more than any other group.

Little Pakistan in New York City, where two-thirds of the detainees were picked up, has withered, its shops boarded up and ghost apartments left behind. The exodus has left less of an imprint in Atlantic City, where there are fewer enclaves.

But for several Pakistani families who fled Atlantic City for Hamilton, Ontario, leaving has made all the difference.

*

Two tiny flags dominate the sparse living room of Mukeem Butt’s apartment overlooking Lake Ontario.

One bears the crescent moon insignia of Pakistan, the homeland Butt fled in fear. The other flag belongs to Canada, the country that has welcomed him as an asylum-seeker – and that is paying for the apartment, furniture if he wants it, and English classes.

“There are no problems,” Butt said in an interview in Hamilton. “Canada is the greatest country in the world.”

Butt, 38, was a midlevel civil servant in a Pakistani province where middle-class Shiite Muslims like himself were being targeted – with drive-by shootings, according to Amnesty International.

A hafiz – a title of honor for those who have memorized the Koran – Butt was beaten outside his mosque three times by thugs with guns and sticks.

He and his wife, Shagufta, entered the United States in early 2001 on short-term visitors’ visas. His brother-in-law hired him to oversee the night shift at a deli near Trump Plaza Hotel & Casino and immediately petitioned for a work permit on his behalf. Butt did not apply for asylum because he was told that the permit would make him a legal resident faster.

Two years later, it was still being processed. And Butt, lacking proper documents in a post-9/11 landscape, had a decision to make: Would he comply with the government’s new plan to track males 16 and older from two dozen mostly Islamic countries who were not U.S. citizens or green-card holders? Would he head for Canada as so many others had? Or would he stay and simply ignore the law?

He chose to follow the rules. In February, at a Cherry Hill immigration office, he was questioned for hours, fingerprinted – and then told he had four months to leave the country.
So on a Saturday in April, Butt and his wife climbed into a friend’s minivan as more than 100 people crowded the alleyway by their apartment to say farewell. Through tears, they tried to fix their attention on the seven-hour drive ahead and an uncertain future beyond.

“We were very scared,” said Butt, that Canada might deport them back to Pakistan.

Four months in his Canadian safe harbor have almost dulled that memory. The government
provided Butt with an attorney to plead his asylum case, health benefits, and, until he finds work, a housing allowance. He has applied for three factory jobs.

Asylum-seekers in the United States, by contrast, must wait six months to work, relying on charity in the meantime. Sometimes they end up in jail as their case winds through the courts.

In Hamilton, a steel city of half a million people, Butt has found old friends among the 50 Pakistani families relocated from the United States.

In the apartment above him are an Atlantic City couple. The wife sold knickknacks on the Boardwalk; her husband pumped gas for $200 a week. A daughter, Iqra, was born to them last month. The Canadian government provided a crib.

“The Pakistani government is a frontline ally of the U.S., and no Pakistanis were involved in 9/11,” said the husband, Muhammad Sajid. “People from many other countries live in the U.S. without visas. America betrayed us.”

Also in the building is Nasreen Khan, who fled Pakistan eight years ago with her son Zohaib, now 16, after her husband’s murder. They, too, were underground workers in Atlantic County, where one in four people is an immigrant. Most are here legally and work for the casinos.

The Hamilton newcomers include U.S. green-card holders and citizens. But most were illegal immigrants at the margins of America’s economy who had been professionals in Pakistan.
“They are high-skilled people. They will not have a problem finding a job,” said Madina Wasuge, program manager for a Hamilton resettlement agency.

Many have sought asylum based on a fear of persecution in Pakistan. Others have cited an anti-Muslim climate in the United States – an argument yet to be ruled on by Canadian officials. Asylum is a pathway to citizenship.

The refugees interviewed – four former New Jersey families with five children – said they were relieved at the opportunity to work on-the-books.

“I am happy here,” Butt said. “It’s a good country. I can work, and I can pay the government taxes.”

*

Back in Atlantic City, a new tenant lives in the attic apartment that Butt left. Another immigrant works his shift, 7 p.m. to 8 a.m., at the deli.

Whatever gaps that he and others left in the labor market have been filled by high schoolers on summer break or Eastern European college students on temporary work visas.

As Haroun Rashid, owner of a cigarette stall on the Boardwalk, put it: “Life here is going on. People come with money in their pocket. When they go home, they are broke. And the next day, new people come.”

Though small businessmen are scraping by with less reliable employees, the toll of the exodus has not been economic.

“It’s a community loss,” said Mukhtiar Memon, the friend who drove Butt to Canada.
Butt had taught children in Atlantic City the Koran at no charge. Three hours a day, six days a week, three dozen students crammed into his apartment. The hafiz now teaches seven in Hamilton.

“He’s a small-time guy,” Memon said. “He doesn’t have papers. He doesn’t have money. Yet a hundred people came [to say goodbye], like some special person is going.”

Atlantic County’s population of Pakistanis – once about 2,000 strong, according to mosque leaders – has thinned by half as they left for Canada, Pakistan and other countries.

The plastic sheets once spread outside for overflow Friday worshipers at Masjid al-Taqwah are no longer needed. Its burial ground will go unbuilt. And the mosque’s coffers – before 9/11, usually at $500 – now hold $12,000.

The needy who would have emptied them are gone.

Related: Immigrants: 9/11 Probe Violated Rights

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What Will Their Vows Allow?

Canada’s Gay Marriage Law Raises Questions in the U.S.
By Gaiutra Bahadur
The Philadelphia Inquirer

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What Will Their Vows Allow?

By Gaiutra Bahadur
The Philadelphia Inquirer

TORONTO _ Their white stretch limousine, punctuated by a “Just Married” sign, led the way.Newly anointed as the Scheuerman-Stallones, Brent and Steve waved at onlookers piled onto the sidewalks from their perch above the limo’s sunroof. Each tilted a glass of champagne against a bright Toronto sky and savored the moment: The Scheuerman-Stallones, riding at the front of a gay pride parade last month, were the embodiment of the successful move to legalize same-sex marriage here.

“He’s finally made an honest man out of me,” Steve shouted to the crowd. “It’s legal now.”

It’s legal in Toronto, but it isn’t clear how U.S. law will view the couple, jewelry store owners from Kansas City, Kan., who had married at Toronto City Hall the day before the parade.

They occupy new and uncertain terrain, with at least 53 other couples from 26 states. All the couples crossed the border to obtain marriage licenses in the month since an Ontario court made the Canadian province the third place in the world where same-sex nuptials are legal. (Belgium and the Netherlands are the others, and the Canadian province of British Columbia followed suit last week.)

The Scheuerman-Stallones soon will apply for a change in their driver’s licenses to reflect their new name. That and every other claim to married status made by bearers of Canadian licenses will be a closely monitored challenge to federal and state laws in the United States.

“We’re all watching what happens,” said Evan Wolfson, executive director of Freedom to Marry, one of several gay-rights groups tracking the U.S. couples who marry in Toronto.

“But for us, it’s not a chess game,” he said. “This is not about test cases and tactics. This is about real families who are now legally married and seek the same respect that every other married couple has.”

The federal Defense of Marriage Act defines marriage as a union between a man and a woman, and 37 states bar same-sex marriages.

About 15 percent of the licenses issued in Toronto to same-sex couples have been to U.S. couples, and activists on both sides of the border hope those couples will, like the Scheuerman-Stallones, push for recognition once they return home.

“We encourage Americans to come up and to export the legal rights we now enjoy here,” said Kevin Bourassa. “Make no mistake. What you see happening here in Toronto is what the future looks like in the U.S.A.”

Bourassa’s wedding to his partner, Joe Varnell, at Toronto’s Metropolitan Community Church in 2001 sparked the legal fight for gay marriage in Canada. The gay-friendly church’s founder, Californian Troy Perry, plans to follow their example by marrying here Wednesday.

Already there are legal challenges pending in the United States. Same-sex couples in New Jersey and Massachusetts are suing those states for marriage licenses, and the Massachusetts Supreme Court may rule on the issue soon. But U.S. couples who marry in Canada could force the issue, because all states and the federal government have recognized licenses from other countries.

Despite the legal skirmishes, the Scheuerman-Stallones said they did not go to Toronto as activists.

“We didn’t do it for political purposes,” Brent Scheuerman-Stallone said. “If we can help in the struggle, we are willing to do that. But it was for ourselves.”

So it was for John Higgins and Niall Maloney, Bostonians who exchanged vows before a justice of the peace at Toronto City Hall as the June 29 parade ended a few subway stops away.

The wedding chapel, a sparse room with a heart-shaped briar on the wall, was still, except for a camera’s occasional click. Higgins and Maloney locked eyes.

“I, John, take you Niall,” Higgins said, “to be my wedded spouse, to have and to hold . . .”

They had done this before, two years ago in a Unitarian church outside Boston. Then, there had been an organist and a sanctuary full of friends and family. Now, a Handel march issued from a CD player. The only guests were the impromptu witnesses they had met in the lobby 15 minutes earlier.

“For better, for worse . . .”

Higgins’ voice was a whisper, cracking. He slid a gold band – engraved with their initials and their previous wedding date – on Maloney’s ring finger: “And thereto, I give you my love.”

Higgins’ eyes were now red and watery. He didn’t expect this ceremony, meant to give legal standing to an existing relationship, to be as emotional as the last. But it was.

“This is a very personal moment for us,” Maloney said. “It’s part of our saying to the world we are a couple and would like to be respected as such.”

For now, that respect is only symbolic. Maloney still has to pay taxes on health-care benefits for his partner. And relatives abroad still have more right to visit either man in the hospital than the other does.

That could change, however, as the cross-border nuptials force the legal contradictions to a crisis point.

“The U.S. is going to have to figure out how to handle this border,” said Robin Lee Pearson, a Philadelphia native who married her partner, Tracy, in Toronto last month. “Are they going to recognize a legal document from Canada? All of a sudden, is a marriage license going to be OK for some but not for others?”

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