Okie's blog...

This is last week's post from my step-sister's blog:

I served an LDS mission between 2005-2007. Although I served within the bounds of the US of A it felt more like a foreign mission. I spent the majority of my time working and living with people of Latin decent; mostly Mexican. In my short 18 months I made lifelong friends, second families, and connections that I will forever be grateful for and proud to have. Truth be told, my heart bleeds Latin now, and hopefully always will.

For this reason I have returned to my mission stomping grounds on several occasions. It's a chance to reconnect with people I love, and who in turn love me. The most recent visit was this past May when I returned with two of my companions (read: very dear friends Shay and Moffy) to the land that gives me my screen name. We had an amazing time. We were treated to wonderful food, great music, and a lot of dancing lessons! It was 4 days that passed altogether too quickly, but it was time very well spent. Two weeks following our visit I received this call from Shay:

"Kath?" She was calling me in the middle of the day; usually we chat via Internet since we work for the same company.

"Yeah, what's up? What's wrong?'

"Did you hear from Evelyn yet?" It's always like Shay to need to know the background first.

"No, what's going on?" Evelyn is a dear friend in OKC who keeps us posted on all of the happenings.

"Liliana and her mom were pulled over yesterday while driving in the city. They are being detained over night in a jail and are being deported first thing in the morning."

What shocked me most about this sentence was the mere fact that I had seen Liliana and her sweet mom, Hermana Lopez, only two weeks previous during our visit. Liliana caught me up on how things were going at the University of Oklahoma. She was accepted there on full scholarship; a natural occurrence for the valedictorian of her high school. She had brought her friends to the church party and I laughed as I watched them all participate in the dance contests. I had some long talks with Liliana that evening about what her plans were for the future and what she was enjoying and/or struggling with in the present. With Shay's call none of this mattered any more.

"What can we do? How much will it cost for bail? Can we bail them out? Who do we need to talk to? Tell me what to do?!!!!" I shot questions at Shay as if she would know the answers, but neither of us did. I felt as if I had been kicked hard in the stomach: my air was gone, I was dizzy. I pulled over while driving; I was overcome with anger and panic. This couldn't be happening.

Later that afternoon I called OU: couldn't someone override this decision? Liliana doesn't even speak with an accent, she's lived here almost her whole life! How could this be happening? Nothing. Liliana and Hermana Lopez were put on a bus the next morning and driven across the border. They were dropped off in Ciudad Juarez which is thousands of miles from their place of origin in Mexico. They were given chance to collect things from their home of several years, nor visit their loved ones. Dropped off with the clothes on their backs. No money, American or Mexican. No food. No address book to telephone once in Mexico. Just kicked out. Hermano Lopez and Juan (son) were left behind in OKC with no way to contact their family. Split apart and separated like criminals. What was their crime?

Driving while Hispanic.