49 pages • 1 hour read
Lauren MarkhamA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
The Rio Grande is the border between the United States and Mexico at the southern edge of the Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge. The “border wall”—a 12-foot-high metal fence—stops at the refuge’s perimeter. Markham notes, “Mexico and Texas look just the same” (69). People cross wherever they can, and the river is a frequent spot. The United States and Mexico border is a series of tangible and intangible walls: fencing, official entry points, rivers, inhospitable terrain, or border patrol agents. Much of the desert is inhospitable and deadly. Markham explains, “Each year the remains of hundreds of migrants are found along the southwestern border—in 2012, more than 120 were found in Brooks County” (71). Many remains are unidentifiable and buried by the county in mass graves.
The twins’ raft drifts to the Texas shore, where a coyote commands they disembark. Ernesto gets out first, into knee-deep water, and once ashore he helps Raúl up the bank. After the second raft is ashore, the coyotes yell for the migrants to run. Now in the United States, they run for about an hour until they reach good cover. At about six o’clock in the morning, the migrants pile into a truck that transports them “to a safe house in one of the colonias, the small, poverty-stricken unincorporated zones, outside McAllen, Texas” (74). After two days, they leave again in a truck. Their intended route is for the truck to drop them in the desert, where they will circumnavigate the Falfurrias immigration checkpoint on foot, then board another truck for Houston, at which point they will call Wilber Jr.
About an hour outside of McAllen, the truck stops and a border patrol car approaches, lights flashing and siren on. Markham says, “The world went silent inside the twins’ heads, as everyone scattered in different directions. […] They ran and ran until the lights were far behind them, then crouched in the night and caught their breath” (74). Raúl, Ernesto, and a 19-year-old Honduran named Edy proceed on foot through the hot, barren desert. Soon, the trio is lost. They text Sandra, who encourages them to persist. Edy’s optimism buoys them through several days and nights. Raúl’s shoes begin to come apart and Ernesto switches with him. By the third day, Edy is sick—he is walking with a worsening limp and his stomach hurts. Ernesto texts both Wilber Jr. and Maricela, “We’re lost. We have no water. We’re drinking dirty water, water from the cows” (78). Eventually they spot a house, empty with no car outside. They cautiously enter and begin drinking water. Suddenly a man enters the kitchen. The boys are scared and put their hands up, but the man is reassuring. He lets them eat and drink, then explains the direction they need to walk before they set back out.
As night falls, they feel better. Ernesto is lost in thought and trips, falling on something. His hands press into a soft mass that collapses “in a wet, sickly mess under his weight” (79). He regains his bearings and realizes he fell onto a headless human corpse. He screams and falls back onto the ground away from the corpse. He shakes and hyperventilates. Markham continues, “[Ernesto] couldn’t shake the feeling of death on him. When he finally nodded off, he dreamed that two men were chasing him to cut off his head” (79). He awakes to a text from Wilber: “Okay, esta bien” (79). They finally arrive at a paved road and hide in the scrub for a moment to assess their situation when a border patrol truck approaches them, lights on and sirens blazing. Edy runs, but the twins are apprehended, separated, and reunited at an immigration station. Markham explains, “if they’d been adults, they would have been put into an adult detention center and ordered deported […] [b]ut because the twins really were juvies, they’d be put in a special detention center” (81-82).
At the detention center, authorities first put them in the hielera, or icebox—a cold and windowless room packed with young men and boys. Officials give them apple juice, cookies, and aluminum blankets to keep warm, but the blankets don’t work very well. Immigration advocates believe the cold temperatures are a deliberate tactic to make the kids “opt for voluntary departure—that is, agree to be sent home” (82). Immigration officers interview Raúl and Ernesto, first separately then together. They wait in the hielera for about three days before they are transferred to a two-story white clapboard house that is a shelter holding about 200 unaccompanied minor immigrants from Central America. Now safe in the facility, Ernesto realizes the emotional weight of his journey and begins suffering panic attacks. He talks to Gerardo, his counselor at the shelter: “My uncle wanted to kill me. My brother was kidnapped, and it was my fault. I fell onto a body—I can still feel it on my hands. What happened that day in Reynosa…” (84-85).
Their shelter is run by Southwest Key, one of the largest private detention facility contractors. Though organized as a nonprofit, they are a big business that makes large revenues from the federal government. The federal government pays between $200 and $500 per night to detain each child, totaling $164 million to Southwest Key in government grants in 2012 and Southwest Key CEO compensation of $659,000 in 2014, including bonuses and incentives. Southwest Key is not the only private detention facility contractor working with the federal government. Markham explains, “In fiscal year 2017 the ORR’s Unaccompanied Alien Children budget is approximately $1.32 billion” (86).
The Flores twins remain at the shelter for more than two months as illegal aliens with a pending deportation order. Shelter staff occasionally organize field trips to the movies or a park. Wilber agrees to become his brothers’ guardian and they eagerly await their departure. It is not unpleasant, but while at the shelter their life is on hold and their debt is climbing.
Before leaving the shelter, unaccompanied minors must appear in court in Harlingen, Texas where a Judge explains to them via Spanish translator that they are in the United States illegally and their cases will be rescheduled. The Flores twins receive a Notice to Appear in late May.
Shortly after the court appearance, the twins board an airplane with a shelter staff member for California, where Wilber Jr. greets them. He introduces them to his girlfriend, Gabby. The twins notice, “Wilber was like an entirely new person: new clothes, newfound swagger. Even his face looked different” (94). Wilber worked every Sunday for two months to pay for their airplane tickets: “[T]his was his first break in weeks” (95). He notices they look skinny, so he takes them for burgers before bringing them back to his working-class apartment in San Jose—“nicer and more modern than any house they’d ever been in” (95). Markham adds, “Wilber could see in their faces that they’d been through the wringer. He knew how bad the journey could be, but he didn’t ask any questions—they’d survived, and to keep pushing forward, these things were best left undiscussed” (95).
Seeing the twins makes Wilber miss home. Things didn’t work out as planned for him in the United States. Upon arriving, he enrolled in high school, believing it would be a stepping-stone to college, but his weak grasp on English made high school difficult. Financial pressures led him to quit school to work full-time landscaping. He earned a lot of money, “[b]ut life in the United States was a nonstop ticker tape of bills and charges, an endless invoice” (96). He worked hard and repaid his debt within two years. He kept his head down and “learned to navigate the province of the paperless. He went to work, came home, paid his rent on time, paid his car payments on time, and stayed out of trouble” (98).
Wilber, Ernesto, and Raúl know the twins must work to repay their debt, but shelter rules prohibit it: they must go to school and can’t work. Their debt began at $14,000 and 20% has been compounding weekly since they left, bringing it to $16,000 by the time they entered the United States. Before they arrived, Wilber volunteered to help them repay their debt, “[b]ut now, hearing the impossible sum they owed, he didn’t repeat his offer” (97). Just before the twins arrived, Wilber was beginning to feel settled in the United States. They threw a wrench in that. Wilber is responsible for feeding, housing, and clothing Raúl and Ernesto, as well as for their safety, health, and education. Markham explains, “He was happy to see the twins, but it was also a game changer. Just when things had started to stabilize and he was thinking about going back to school, his brothers appeared” (99).
The twins work under-the-table landscaping with Wilber while they wait to enroll in school. Immigration court notifies them their case is transferred to California with a date set for February 2014—less than two months away. The emotional and psychological toll of their journey continues to affect the twins. Markham explains, “Nights were the hardest. Once Raúl awoke to a feeling of someone standing over him. […] Ernesto’s sleep was still afflicted—worse now, even, than in Harlingen […] Almost nightly he fell into suffocating dreams” (102). They believe dark spirits afflict them.
Around the holidays, Wilber’s landlord discovers how many people are living in their apartment and evicts them. They move from San Jose into an apartment complex in East Oakland. To the twins, Oakland feels poorer than La Colonia. They live with Wilber Jr., Gabby, Gabby’s mother Rosalinda, and Rosalinda’s other children Jose and Silvia. Ernesto and Raúl share a small, dark bedroom that is “nicer than their soot-stained room back home” (104). Gabby’s Chihuahua Nicky sleeps with Ernesto and he has fewer nightmares. Gabby’s 11-year-old brother Jose frequently tags along with the twins. The arrangement feels like family.
They begin attending school at Oakland International High School, where Markham works as a counselor. The school is about an hour bus ride from their apartment, but it caters specifically to immigrant English-language learners. Markham explains, “The school’s 370 students came from more than thirty countries, but at the time over 50 percent were Spanish-speaking, from Mexico and Central America” (105). Their age would normally put them in 11th or 12th grade, but they enroll in 10th grade to “give them enough time to learn English, earn all their credits, and if they worked hard, graduate in three years at age twenty-one” (106). They feel dumb in class because they don’t speak or read English well, but everyone in the class is in the same situation. In 2014 almost 10% of the United States public school population was English-language learners.
The Mesa Verde Detention Center is on the outskirts of Bakersfield, California. The Geo Group run border overflow facility holds 400 detainees recently apprehended crossing the border. The federal government is contractually obligated to keep the facility 80% full and pay Geo Group $119.95 per detainee per day ($94.95 per detainee per day for detainees above the minimum). Detaining immigrants costs the United States approximately $2 billion annually. More than 60% of immigrant detainees are held in private facilities. The federal government provides little oversight of these facilities and their quality of care often suffers. In 2016 the United States Department of Justice stopped outsourcing incarceration to private contractors, but the practice remains common in immigration detention facilities. When the Department of Justice stopped outsourcing incarceration to private contractors, the stock of such companies plummeted, but in 2017 “President Trump instructed ICE to begin immediately constructing new facilities and initiating new contracts” (111), with the stated intention of doubling the number of immigrant detainees. President Obama deported more undocumented immigrants than any prior administration and President Trump intends to exceed his predecessor.
Markham meets Ernesto and Raúl in February 2014, after they miss their immigration court appearance. Their math teacher escorts them into Markham’s office and states, “We have a problem” (113). Markham tells the twins not to worry, but she knows that after missing court they were likely ordered deported in absentia. Limited staffing and the twins low priority for immigration means no one will likely come looking for them, but if they are swept up for any reason, even incidentally, they will be deported. Markham realizes, “They needed a lawyer, and fast” (114).
Raúl and Ernesto can apply for protective status. Without an attorney though, they are “five times more likely to be deported” (115). In 2014, few nonprofits were taking immigration cases. Markham accompanies the twins to meet with Legal Services for Children, a San Francisco-based organization that specializes in supporting unaccompanied minors. They hope to achieve asylum in the United States, but there is legal precedent against granting asylum for fear of gang violence. The twins do not have a good case. Complicating matters further, Ernesto has a better case than Raúl: “Ernesto had been targeted for violence directly, whereas Raúl was at risk only because he looked like the kid with the already shaky asylum claim. He might win, but Raúl likely wouldn’t” (119). The organization tells the twins they will review their case and be in touch.
After a few months in Oakland, tensions rise in the apartment. The boys are messy; everyone argues over shower time; they rarely see Wilber, who has a long round-trip commute to work and who Ernesto blames for their missed court appearance. Ernesto and Raúl retreat to their room, emerging only to make food. Ernesto and Wilber’s relationship grows frustrated. Ernesto feels Wilber no longer cares about their family, but Raúl contends Wilber is doing his best. Their Facebook pages turn dark. Ernesto is sent to Markham’s office with a note that reads, “Ernesto keeps motioning to his head with his fingers like a gun saying he wants to kill himself” (122). Something is bothering him beyond what he has previously divulged, but he refuses to discuss it. Markham explains, “He told me only that it was eating at him, infecting his sleep and now his waking hours, too. He said he’d been having flashbacks more and more often” (122). He confesses that he doesn’t want to kill himself, but fears that “it might happen, like I’m scared that I might do something to myself even if I don’t want to” (122). He signs a “safety contract” and returns to class.
In La Colonia, Uncle Agustín has calmed, but the Flores family avoids him and their cousins. With Raúl and Ernesto gone, there is more work for the remaining family members. Ricardo doesn’t speak to Maricela. He blames Maricela for “bringing another problem into their house” (123). Lupita is now almost two. Ricardo leaves for long periods and returns reeking of booze. Maricela is worried he might join a gang. Maricela’s younger sisters Marina and Lucia are still children and there is no one around for her to have an adult conversation with: “They had all left for the United States. Everyone leaves” (123). Sebastian sends her money every month for Lupita, “[b]ut here she was, freighted with the debt, with the baby, and with her aging parents. Only twenty years old and already trapped” (124). She never leaves the house. She spends her days performing household chores and taking care of Lupita, who is attached to her “like a snail on a stone” (124). Desperate for outside contact, she submits a message using a fake name to be read on a popular TV program in which people send messages with phone numbers to be displayed on the screen: “Hello, my name is Daniella, I’m a single mother, twenty years old, looking for friendship from someone my age. Call me if you’re interested in getting to know me” (124). Most responses are vulgar, but she receives a message from a man named Cesar hoping to befriend her. Maricela and Cesar begin talking and continue for two months before meeting.
Two weeks after the twins’ meeting with Legal Services for Children, they are rejected “due to capacity issues” (125). A paralegal with the organization recommends the twins contact Amy Allen, a private attorney who does not work pro bono but charges “a fraction of what many other attorneys charged for the same service” (126). Allen rents space in the Women’s Building of San Francisco, which she shares with a day care center. After meeting with Allen, the twins agree to a payment plan which they can manage with help from Wilber and Rosalinda. With Allen, Raúl and Ernesto will apply for Special Immigrant Juvenile Status. To succeed, they must convince a judge it is in their best interest to remain in the united states with a legally appointed guardian. Wilber must sign paperwork to become the twins’ legal guardian and their parents in El Salvador must sign paperwork relinquishing their guardianship. This must be completed before their 18th birthday in two months.
The United States has a southern border wall comprising its entire length. It doesn’t look like a “wall” in every section, but it functions the same. Some lengths are actual walls, others are fencing, others are dangerous rivers and inhospitable deserts with barren miles of scorching heat and dangerous animals. Some walls take the form of coyotes, whose violence and rape of women serve as deterrents to those seeking to cross; other walls are drug cartels who threaten migrants’ lives to make them drug mules. Border Patrol Agents form a roving wall, in addition to the wall of immigration authorities within the United States who perform raids on communities.
Immigration activists build safe houses and leave clean water bottles along migrant routes. The purpose of these measures is to save lives, so immigration authorities usually allow them. However, in one recent high-profile case, the United States federal government prosecuted Scott Warren for leaving water bottles along migrant routes. He was charged with harboring illegal immigrants and acquitted after a trial in 2019.
Immigrant detention facilities are a big business in the United States. They are organized as nonprofits but are legally permitted to pay high salaries to their executives. The facilities are less expensive per head than government-run facilities, but they are cheaper because they often provide worse care for detainees. They also require the government to maintain a certain capacity, typically 80%, or they charge penalty fees. Such quotas raise serious human rights concerns by creating a financial incentive to detain individuals.
Life is difficult for unaccompanied and undocumented immigrant children in the United States. School is difficult because most immigrant children don’t speak English, don’t have parents who speak English, or don’t have the resources to provide necessary support. Those who are old enough to work are frequently abused by employers: wage theft, unsafe employment conditions, and even physical and sexual abuse. Because they are undocumented, they have little recourse for such abuses; because they are children, they are ignorant of pursuing real avenues of recourse. Though the Flores twins’ network isn’t perfect, it is more than most have and aids in their survival, both in the desert and in California. Still, life isn’t easy for the twins. Their debt consumes them, growing weekly, and because they were apprehended at the border, they must attend school rather than work to repay the debt.