Immigration officers ask tough questions as system's gatekeepers (Orlando Sentinel)

Immigration officers ask tough questions as system's gatekeepers
Applicants' futures in U.S. are riding on their answers in interviews

By Victor Manuel Ramos, Orlando Sentinel
9:02 p.m. EDT, August 10, 2010

The immigration applicants enter Officer Caraballo's office behind the glass wall. They raise their right hands and swear they will say nothing but the truth.

Caraballo asks for a photo ID, verifies the spellings of their names and enters the information into her computer forms.

Then the real questions start.

Caraballo — who asked that her first name be withheld because she's concerned about applicants contacting her outside work — starts firing away at St. Lucia native Hubert Xavier and his U.S.-born wife, Sakeena Bennett. Xavier is one of about 10 applicants she interviews on a typical day at the Orlando Field Office of U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services

Bennett, 20, is petitioning for Xavier, 21, to stay in the U.S. as a legal resident. He has been living here on an expired tourist visa.

Caraballo has plenty of questions during the Tuesday interview: How did they meet? At a party, answers Bennett. Caraballo wants details. Bennett explains that they both went to a party at her cousin's house and started talking.

How did he know her cousin? Xavier says they were classmates at Jones High School.

Do you have children? Yes, he says. They have a son, Naushad, 9 months.

They show a recent photo taken with the smiling child. They laugh nervously when the officer asks for more photos and they don't have any.

Every weekday between 200 and 300 immigrants from nine Central Florida counties visit the 37,000-square-foot immigration field office. It opened two years ago in southeast Orlando as part of the agency's effort to reduce the backlog of people waiting for visa requests and citizen applications to be reviewed.

Those who qualify file their applications, go to interviews and — if they succeed — are ultimately sworn in as U.S. citizens during naturalization ceremonies held every Friday. The majority in Central Florida come from Haiti, Colombia, the Dominican Republic, Cuba, Jamaica and Venezuela, according to Department of Homeland Security statistics.

"I love Fridays," said Margaret Iglesias, field director of the Orlando immigration office and the child of Cuban immigrants herself. "We try to make their citizenship ceremonies special, and when I come into the room for those, I am the happiest person in the world no matter what else is happening that day because you only become a citizen once."

First, though, the immigrants have to get past the officers who are the gatekeepers of the U.S. immigration system. Immigrants wait for months —an improvement over a process that used to take years— until their forms, fees and documents are processed. They have to prove that their claimed relationships are legitimate. They have to answer questions about their moral character. And, in the case of citizenship applicants, they have to learn U.S. history and English to pass an oral test.

They also pay from hundreds to thousands of dollars in combined application and legal fees. But the officers, who spend weeks training in immigration law and learning to conduct interviews, determine who gets to stay.

"We look for people who might be harmful to this country because we don't want them stepping through," said Ely Borjal, an immigrant from the Philippines who oversees immigration officers at the Orlando office.

After immigrants meet the requirements, Borjal said, they will find a welcoming message from those very officers: "I tell immigrants that the only limit you have is yourself in this country and that no one will stop you from success if you do the right thing."

Back in the interview room, the officer learns that Xavier has been arrested once for driving without a license — a not- so-uncommon violation for people on expired visas who cannot get state-issued driver licenses. Xavier explains that he paid the fine and has not done it again.

The questions keep coming: Have you ever solicited a prostitute? Have you sold drugs? Are you part of a terrorist group? Have you ever been deported or removed from the U.S.? Have you ever had any type of visa other than a B-2? Do you plan on practicing polygamy? Do you intend to be a spy?

Xavier bursts out laughing, but Officer Caraballo is not amused.

So he straightens up in his chair and answers her question: "No, seriously. No."

Caraballo seems satisfied that they are a couple, but before Xavier gets her approval for permanent residency, the officer marks his file with a "request for evidence." By Thursday morning at 7:30, she wants certified proof from Orange County that his court case was closed.

Xavier, his wife, and their attorney leave with smiles. Xavier is just one step away from a so-called green card, which would put him on a path to citizenship.

He knows that this change could be significant: "I can get a job, take care of my son. I can go to school and hopefully become a firefighter some day."

U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services figures show that on average, 15 percent of "adjustment status" petitions —which mostly involve people with expired visas — and 10 percent of citizenship requests are denied in Orlando.

Caraballo says she asks the hard questions and looks for inconsistencies or hesitation in the immigrants' answers because she takes her job seriously.

"My role is to follow the laws of the U.S., and at the same time I have the utmost respect for the people I interview," Caraballo says. "If I suspect it's marriage fraud, I will separate and confront them. … But you know your decision will affect this person, and if you are wrong you may be separating this family forever."