Page 111 of Mouse Trapped

In the morning we leave.

Chapter 40

Mariana

Tse was so gentle and loving last night, giving me precisely what I needed. But even after our extended lovemaking, I couldn’t sleep. I hate the tag that’s hanging around my neck,illegal. It seems unfair, I’m as American as the next person, it wasn’t my choice I was brought here as a child. My brief sojourn in Colombia left me with no desire to call that country home.I want to stay here.Chances are, that won’t be allowed. I’ve avoided the subject with Tse, I’m certain he’s banking on me being allowed to stay, I hadn’t wanted to upset him by making him face up to the fact that I most likely won’t.

We’re separated when we arrive at the courthouse. I’m taken to a cell to wait for my time in front of the judge; Tse will be taking his place in the public gallery. I’m so glad he’s here. He’s reassured me, whatever happens, he’ll be with me. Close behind if I’m deported. I believe he will, even though I worry about all he’ll be leaving behind, and whether that would put too great a strain on our still embryonic relationship. But at least, to start with, I wouldn’t be alone. That takes some of the fear away.

At last I’m called and go where indicated to the witness stand. There are two tables in front of me. From one, Carissa Beacham, my lawyer, gives me an encouraging smile. Sitting just behind her is a man I didn’t expect to see here, Jason Deville, or Devil as he’s better known. On the next table are stony faced men I don’t recognise, but know who they are immediately. They’re representatives from ICE. Their onlydesire is to see me, a statistic, not a person, sent back to the country where I was born.

We stand, then sit, as the judge takes his seat. The name card in front of him shows he’s Judge Hawkins.

Having settled himself, he looks down at the information in front of him, and his eyes widen. His face is stony as he looks toward the men from ICE. “This is the case I was supposed to hear some weeks back. When a deportation was pre-empted without my determination.”

One of the men from ICE gets to his feet. “Your Honour, I apologise for that. I must also add that Mariana De Souza has re-entered the country illegally…”

“Objection, Your Honour.” Carissa’s on her feet.

“That’s fact,” the ICE man snarls.

The judge raises an eyebrow and motions for Carissa to continue. “Mrs Williamson received a near fatal injury in Colombia. She was brought here for emergency treatment.”

“She could have gone to a hospital in Colombia.”

Carissa sends the government representative a scathing look. “Her life was in danger. Her safety couldn’t be guaranteed in that country.”

The judge bangs the gavel. “I believe we are getting ahead of ourselves. Please, Ms Beacham, let us start in a more orderly fashion. Your witness, I believe.”

Carissa stands and approaches me. “Mrs Williamson. Can you explain to the court how you originally came to be in the US?”

“I was four years old,” I begin, my voice shaky. “My mother had been brutally attacked by my father. He’d hit me too and broken my arm.”

“You remember that?” the man from ICE questions. “Or is that what you were told?”

“I remember. You don’t forget things like that.” I rub my arm where it had been broken. “You’re right, I don’t remember much else. The panic of my mother though, that I do recall. The details of the journey, no.”

“You arrived in Arizona?” Carissa takes over again, giving a look at the ICE man who I presume shouldn’t have interrupted.

“I couldn’t tell you exactly what happened, I was only four after all. But my mother managed to feed me, and we soon ended up with a one-bedroom trailer.”

“The trailer you’d been living in with your brother, Drew?”

I nod, then confirm, “That’s right.”

The ICE men confer with each other. “We’re not aware of a brother, Your Honour. May I ask, is he illegal too?”

“My brother,” I answer, drawing my shoulders back, “is a US citizen. The night before we left, my father had raped my mother. She didn’t know she was pregnant until some time after we arrived. That,” I address myself to the judge, “I don’t remember. But that’s what I was told.”

“Your mother told your father she was having another child?” Carissa prompts, already knowing the answer.

“No.” I shudder. “We kept Drew’s, that’s my brother, existence quiet. My father is a dangerous man, and if he knew he had a son, he might have come after him.”

“What’s the current status of your mother?”

“My mother requested asylum, but it wasn’t granted. She was deported six years ago when I was fourteen. One day she was there, one day she wasn’t. Nobody came, so I looked after Drew. He was just nine at the time.”

“Are you in contact with your mother? She’s in Colombia?”

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