Land of the free, home of exploitation

The following is an excerpt from part one:

My drug-dealing associate then informs me of his eventual deportation to Acapulco. I suspect that the handling of illegal aliens is not a compassionate enterprise. The firsthand accounts of overt neglect and abuse are distressing. The guards who facilitate bus transportation to the airport, Philadelphia in this area, are described as “typical C/Os.”

With that said, I pretty much know the rest of the story. Extended lunch stops at lavish roadside restaurants are commonplace. The deportees sit on the metal seats of the bus, manacles connecting bound wrists to bound ankles. The restraints are not removed even to use the toilet, which is a “crappy port-a-potty” situated in the rear of general seating. Forget any such thing as toilet paper. They are given miniscule amounts to eat or drink in order to minimize any inconvenience. José elaborates: “The less that goes in, the less that comes out.”

It is common for the “criminals” to be kicked, slammed, and shoved. If any of them collapse from exhaustion or malnutrition, they are left ignored in whatever position they land after falling from their seat. At the final destination, the “infirm” are dragged off and left in a pile until they are ready to be hauled away again. For the weak and elderly, that is likely to be “wherever they throw the dead bodies.” Sorrow for the plight of those prisoners causes me to weep. I am ashamed to be counted as one of the free and the brave souls who refer
to themselves as Americans.