'It was a long 295 days,' says Cheryl Clark, who continued to live in Arizona after her visa had expired

Everyone has seen the images of ‘detainees’ in the United States – immigrants, refugees and asylum-seekers taken into custody by border agents and Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), and held for months, if not years.

But it’s hard to understand how dysfunctional, how inhumane the American system has become, unless you are caught up in it.

Like Canadian Cheryl Clark, an “educated white girl” who was caught up in a police sweep, and ended up being detained for 10 months at the centre in Eloy, Arizona.

Clark is quick to accept blame. “My visa did lapse, so I was ultimately in that country illegally,” she says.

But after 16 years in Arizona, running a business, even fostering an infant taken into care from a mom who was addicted to drugs, she didn’t think of it as an issue – especially after a police background check cleared her for foster care, despite her lack of a valid visa.

In fact, her visa expired six years before she was picked up.

“They are not looking for the white girl,” Clark explained. The vast majority of detainees are Hispanic – mostly either refugees from Guatemala and Honduras, or naturalized Mexican-Americans who were brought to the country as children, but lack documentation.

Clark was guest speaker at the Jan. 8 meeting of the Innisfil Rotary Club, telling the story of her detention for the first time, some 16 months after her eventual release and deportation back to Canada.

When she was stopped, asked for her papers and then asked to accompany an officer, Clark thought little of it. “As Canadians, we’re allowed 180 days” in the U.S., before having to return to Canada; she figured everything would eventually work out – especially since she had been paying taxes for 16 years, and had no criminal charges.

Instead, she was “handcuffed, belly-chained and ankle-chained, at the age of 53,” and taken into detention. “Once they detain you, you are behind a concrete wall. There is no internet, no access, no phone,” she said.

Clark noted that while some detainees are facing criminal charges, “some of these people have absolutely nothing against them – and they are treated as criminals.”

It’s a massive system. Estimates suggest that at on any one day, some 30,000 “illegals” are detained in over 900 detention sites in the U.S. Some centres are run by the American government; others are run for profit, by private companies.

At least Clark spoke English, and had the education to understand and navigate the process, unlike the majority of detainees. Because she was also ‘relatively fluent’ in Spanish, she ended up assisting many of those incarcerated, translating the complex paperwork and providing advice.

All of the paperwork is in English. Some of the wording is so complex and confusing that it poses a challenge even for English-speakers, Clark noted; as for the refugees and asylum-seekers, some of whom spoke an Indigenous dialect and were illiterate, “They haven’t got a hope. The system is set up to fail.”

Often, women were told that if they signed the documents, they could see their children. They signed – only to find they had signed an order agreeing to deportation. One of the first things Clark told detainees was, “Don’t sign anything.”

Clark found the system full of inequities. Entirely court-based, most rulings were negative – even when children were involved. And it was almost impossible for most detainees to make bond, and leave detention.

The bond amounts demanded for release are “atrocious – there’s no consistency,” she said. Clark, with no criminal record, a business of her own, and a history of community involvement, was told her bond was $17,000.

During all of her 10 months incarceration in Arizona, only one asylum claim at the centre was approved – despite the fact that “these people are literally running for their lives,” fleeing torture, gang and cartel violence in Guatemala and Honduras.

Some of the women in detention had been there for up to five years; the shortest stay was about 120 days. The average: two to four years.

Initially, Clark fought deportation for five or six months, trying to stay in the U.S. where she had built a life, and had all of her possessions, and friends. After months of futile court action, she finally signed the deportation order “willingly.”

It took another six weeks to get the travel documents, through the Canadian Consulate. All documentation, all of the process, only operates through the mail system – leading to delays and backlogs.

She came out of Eloy with nothing. “When you’re in there for 10 months, you lose everything,” Clark said: her house, business, personal possessions. She was eventually dropped off at the border in Niagara Falls.

“You are literally dropped off with absolutely nothing… They can drop you at any border that is convenient to them. They don’t give you a plane ticket, they don’t give you money, you don’t have ID,” she said.

Because she had never spent her commissary dollars, she did have some U.S. funds – enough for a bus ticket – and, she says, “I was fortunate to have people to call.”

Hondurans, Guatemalans, and Mexican-Americans without documentation are usually deported to Mexico – dropped off without resources, and usually without contacts in that country. Suicide rates are high.

It has taken months for Clark to rebuild a life in Canada and start a new business. The months in detention have taken a toll, she admitted.

Eloy was initially a co-ed facility, holding both men and women. It eventually became a women-only centre.

The women were “locked down” three times a day, like criminals. Breakfast was at 4:30 a.m., lunch at 12:30 and dinner at 5 p.m.; miss a meal-time, and go hungry. The food was heavy on pasta and bread. There was no meat, only soy-based substitutes, and no vegetables.

“I lost 56 pounds in ten months,” Clark said.

And the detention centre “wasn’t clean.” Many of those held in detention were unused to running water, flush toilets, or basic cleanliness. Clark ended up “leading by example,” with a mop and bucket, and found the women “teachable, trainable and willing.”

With so much uncertainty, separated from their children and families, it was also an emotional nightmare. Wherever she went, whenever she sat down, the detainees would bring her letters and documents, asking for her assistance in translating and understanding their situation, and desperate for help.

“It was a long 295 days.”

Now back in Ontario, Clark has rebuilt her life. With the help of MPP Andrea Khanjin, she was able to get ID, OHIP coverage, and a passport – although it was a process that took almost eight months.

She calls the American detention system “inhumane.” It is also expensive, costing the U.S. government an estimated $156 per day for each detainee.

“I don’t think detention is the answer,” Clark told the Rotarians – although allowing every asylum-seeker into the country isn’t an answer either, she said. She urged Rotary to step up, “if you can help in any way from a humanitarian standpoint… It’s a humanitarian issue.”

She noted that even those who are in the U.S. legally, who have proper documentation, have become fearful of a system that is so arbitrary. “They sit at home. They won’t go out,” she said.

And Clark herself won’t return to the U.S.

Recently, a wrong turn brought a car in which she was a passenger close to the U.S. border. “I panicked,” she said; at her insistence, the car made a u-turn back towards Canada.