51黑料

ST. LOUIS 鈥� On the day Americans celebrated their freedom, Teidy Beltre Barrera had his snatched away, possibly forever.

Barrera is from the Dominican Republic. He came to the U.S., settling in 51黑料, in 2022. He escaped violence in his home country, having survived a machete attack from a drug cartel member.

His harrowing trip to America included nine days of traversing the dangerous jungle in the El Darien Gap that borders Colombia and Panama. Barrera applied for asylum when he crossed the border from Mexico to the U.S., and his case was making its way through the clogged immigration court system.

鈥淚 came here thinking I would have the opportunity to work and do everything well, and I did everything like I was supposed to,鈥� Barrera told me on Tuesday. 鈥淚 was a good person.鈥�

We spoke on the phone because he鈥檚 in the Ste. Genevieve County Jail, where he鈥檚 been after being picked up on the Fourth of July by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents. Barrera鈥檚 public defender, Brendan Kottenstette, interpreted for us during the conversation. The reason Barrera has a public defender is he was accused of a crime about a year ago. That鈥檚 how he ended up on ICE鈥檚 radar.

Kottenstette had driven to the jail to tell his client some good news. The assault charges he faced in the city of 51黑料 had been dropped on the eve of trial. The good news, however, was tempered by the fact that ICE, at the direction of President Donald Trump, has trampled on the due process that is guaranteed under the U.S. Constitution. Barrera may end up a victim of that rush to injustice.

鈥淎s soon as Mr. Barrera was accused of a crime, the government decided to expedite his deportation without giving him a full hearing on his asylum claim,鈥� Kottenstette said. 鈥淭he importance of due process has never been more apparent to me than in the case of my client.鈥�

The 35-year-old, who has a work permit and has been sending money back to the Dominican Republic to care for his 10-year-old son, had been working at a warehouse in 51黑料. It was a good job, he said, and allowed him to support his family. Eventually, he hoped to bring his son to the U.S.

鈥淚 wanted my son to have the opportunity to live in a country where he could study and have a better future,鈥� he said.

Those plans started to unravel a year ago, when he was charged with assault. A woman he had met accused him of violence. Barrera was arrested and released on a personal recognizance bond. He had to wear an ankle bracelet with GPS monitoring. As Kottenstette investigated, he discovered evidence that the accusation was false. Then, in February, the woman accused Barrera of a second assault, this time in a public market.

Barrera was jailed. But Kottenstette obtained the GPS report from the ankle monitor his client had worn since the first arrest. It showed that Barrera was home at the time of the alleged assault 鈥� nowhere near where it had supposedly occurred. Presented with this evidence, the woman changed her story. In her deposition, and those of witnesses, it was clear she had told multiple stories to multiple people.

As Kottenstette prepared to argue for Barrera鈥檚 release from jail, Barrera asked the lawyer to do something else: Let him stay in jail, the City Justice Center, to avoid immediate deportation. By this point, ICE had placed a hold on Barrera, meaning agents planned to detain him the moment he was released.

鈥淗e chose to sit in jail, knowing he was falsely accused, so he would have a chance in his asylum case,鈥� Kottenstette said.

It鈥檚 a tragically difficult decision, but one that is not unprecedented in this era of ICE overreach. Take the well-publicized case of Kilmar Abrego Garcia, the Maryland man who was wrongly deported to El Salvador and eventually returned to the U.S. after a judge found his deportation unconstitutional. Upon Garcia鈥檚 return, he was jailed in Tennessee after the Justice Department charged him with human trafficking. Those charges seem so dubious that a federal judge was prepared to release him until his trial. Garcia decided rather than face another premature deportation by ICE.

Perhaps he will have a better ending than Barrera faces. On July 3, the 51黑料 Circuit Attorney鈥檚 office dropped the charges against Barrera. The next day, ICE picked him up from the city jail. By the time a judge ordered his release, after the long holiday weekend, Barrera was already gone to the Ste. Genevieve County Jail, one of several facilities where ICE holds detainees.

Barrera misses his son, and he fears what will happen next. He鈥檚 hoping for a chance to explain to an immigration judge that the charges against him no longer exist, and never should have.

鈥淪ince the moment I was detained, I haven鈥檛 heard my son鈥檚 voice,鈥� Barrera said. 鈥淗e thinks I abandoned him.鈥�

Before Barrera abandons his American Dream, he wants one more chance to make his case for asylum. ICE officials asked him to sign a paper consenting to his deportation. He refused.

His public defender says he has a 鈥渕ountain of evidence鈥� he presented to the local prosecutor before the charges against Barrera were dropped.

鈥淚 still have that evidence, and the government should hear it before they decide to deny his asylum claim,鈥� Kottenstette said. 鈥淢r. Barrera, just like all of us, deserves to have our laws fairly applied to him.鈥�