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To the Editor,

I promised myself many months ago that I would never write another editorial for this publication. The whole vibe around here is so outrageously divided and fueled by some of the worst TDS that I have ever seen, in opinion. I would rather live in Bali than West Hartford. God willing, I hope it happens.

Growing up as  a white kid in the ‘burbs, one could easily assume that I did not have a lot of experience with what was then called the INS, immigration enforcement, immigration fraud, and procedures. The contrary is true. It wasn’t a right vs. left thing at all but in my early adulthood about 25 years ago, I became fed up with white upper middle class and upper class people and found myself working with, befriending, and living with immigrants in West Harford and Hartford. Most of these friends were not “undocumented” (once called “illegal”) but were out of proper status or had overstayed visas. They were subject to possible deportation and they knew it.

My first Indonesian girlfriend was named Maya. Maya had a valid student visa and she was brought here by her father, Sabar, who worked at a pizza parlor regularly written about in this publication. About a month into our relationship in April 2001, uniformed INS agents conducted an enforcement action on their apartment right over the line on Heath Street in Hartford. I remember Maya crying in my arms that night when we went to the Rainforest Cafe for dinner.

Where were the West Hartford liberals holding a vigil for this? Where was then sitting Congressman John Larson?

As the weeks rolled on and I met others in the area’s fledging Indonesian community, most of us realized that Sabar’s deportation was warranted. He applied for credit in his younger 4-year-old daughter’s name. He was abusive to the mother of his child. I was told that another out-of-status immigrant had dropped a dime on him to the INS.

Furthermore, about a month after the apprehension I found out Maya was missing her Indonesian passport with her U.S. visa. She had just come to the US in March 2001, a few months earlier. It turns out that her deceptive father had given the passport to a Pakistani American who lived near Hall High School as collateral for a loan. I almost hit the ceiling with outrage. I got a West Hartford police officer involved who was impressed by my skill at tracing an unlisted number to a specific house. He came out for a civil assist and met me at the house. With fire in my eyes, I stared down this Pakistani man and said, “You will give the passport now.”  He said “But, But, But …” I told him her father had been deported and you will never get that money back. With a gentle nudge from the officer, he coughed it up.

Where was the outrage mob to help me in the darkness of night? I think it would have put the liberals in quite a pickle – going after an immigrant and Muslim to help another immigrant. Oh, the tangled web we weave with the selective outrage we believe.

Two years later, after having married an Indonesian woman, I was in quite a bind. I was trying to sponsor her for an adjustment of status to get her green card. I was in a three-year period of my life when I did not work much due to illness. I pleaded with the liberals of West Hartford (mainly my clients) to help me. I went on a letter-writing campaign to everyone I knew. Crickets and refusals. The best response I got was: “I my late husband (a lawyer) were still alive he would have helped you.” Dick Blumenthal did not swoop in with his hair gel to save me. You know who did? A court interpreter from NYC whom I met online who taught me of a rather creative way to report our income. It was accepted by the Immigration officers on Main Street in Hartford and she got her green card at the end of 2004. The West Hartford liberals did not throw me a dinner at Max Downtown or even our own Elbow Room for my efforts. Wow!

Finally, I have known a family friend whom I will call “Miss Y” for 20 years. She was a West Hartford resident from 2006 to 2010. Her children graduated from Conard High School. As a 40-year-old woman in late 2009, she was hoping to meet the love of her life across the country and took a 24-hour bus ride. In the early days of the Obama administration, she was apprehended during a random stop and search by the USCIS. She was given an order of removal, a deportation order. Rather than call John Larson, or Blumenthal, or then-Mayor Scott Slifka or then-Congressman Chris Murphy – Miss Y accepted this as her fate. Upon request, my wife and I participated in her voluntary deportation by taking her to JFK in March 2010. It was still one of the saddest days of my life, but ultimately a day that my wife and I felt was just. My wife explicitly warned Miss Y not to take that bus ride some months earlier. She is a woman of faith and always believed God had a better plan coming.

Good things happen to those who follow our immigration laws. Maya owns a Chick-fil-A franchise out west. Miss Y married a spectacular American man about six or seven years ago and (wait for this liberals) LEGALLY re-immigrated to the USA in 2021 and is now living the life of her dreams.

Closing with the words of singer Christopher Cross, “It’s not far down to paradise at least it’s not for me.” Is it worth staying in this town for people who defy the group think?

Kevin Boudreau
West Hartford