Aaron Nelsen
Juan Larin-Ulloa has been fighting his entire life.
As a government soldier in his native El Salvador, he fought against the advance of the Communist Farabundo Marti National Liberation front.
As a refugee of the same bloody war that ravaged his country and uprooted his family, he fought for asylum in the United States.
But his toughest battle of all was surviving four-and-half years locked up in a South Texas immigration detention facility for a crime that he had already served probation years before.
"It felt like the sky was closing with the earth," Larin said of the experience. "I had never been separated from my wife and kids before."
Larin moved his wife and three children from Los Angeles to Wichita, Kansas in 1997 to open Templo de Poder Sinai church for the city's burgeoning Spanish-speaking population. Two years later, the pastor was charged with battery for his involvement in a fight that erupted outside his home. Larin maintains the fight involved local gang members.
Larin paid the fine and served probation, but, in 2002, on a routine visit to renew his green card, federal officials resurrected his battery conviction - the only blemish on his record after 20 years in the country.
As far as Immigration and Customs Enforcement was concerned, Larin's misdemeanor was justification enough to have him deported. Larin is among thousands of legal permanent residents who are detained and put into removal proceedings for past crimes, often-minor offenses.
The 1996 Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigrant Responsibilty Act penned by President Bill Clinton took effect in 1997 and made entire classes of crimes deportable offenses, including some misdemeanors.
In addition, it was applied retroactively, making decades old offenses relevant again.
Even more damaging in Larin's case was a provision added later that established mandatory detention for certain violent crimes.
Of the more than 285,000 people deported last year, 97,279 were for criminal convictions, and 74,826 have been deported for crimes this year, according to ICE. The government does not specify how many of those deported were permanent residents.
The removal of longtime permanent residents has been largely overlooked, but their plight underscores the government's commitment to expel immigrants no matter the cost. The day Larin was taken into custody, his wife and children, all U.S. citizens, had no idea that he'd been arrested.
They were unaware that he would be stripped naked, doused in cold liquid, called filthy and sprayed with a hose shoulder-to-shoulder with other detainees. When the family got home that evening, they would receive a scared phone call from Larin.
He'd been arrested, he told them, and he didn't know exactly where he was or where he would be going. They needed to act fast to find him a lawyer, as the government would provide him none.
On any given day, the U.S. Department of Homeland Security holds more than 31,000 people in hundreds of publicly and privately operated facilities across the country. South Texas has the distinction of housing one quarter of them, or just shy of 7,900.
Critics of the government's efforts to detain immigrants say the crush of so many detainees has not been met with commensurate growth in the legal infrastructure of the Rio Grande Valley. Even if a detainee has the resources and good fortunate to secure legal counsel, incarceration can drag on for years, as was the case for Larin.
"It's all part of the government's end plan for immigration," said Jodi Goodwin, a Harlingen-based immigration lawyer.
With fewer than 30 immigration attorneys in the region, thousands will go through proceedings without legal assistance of any sort.
Larin's case was the ill-fated confluence of bad luck, a colossal paperwork error and the federal government's stepped-up efforts to detain and deport immigrants who fall under more stringent measures in the era of fighting terrorism after the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks on U.S. soil.
Larin got caught up in these circumstances, and for years battled his way back to freedom.
All the while, his family back in Wichita struggled to keep afloat as he sat in an immigration detention facility.
Without his income, the Larin family lost their home. The family business, a Christian bookstore, went bankrupt. And his two school-age children, one in high school and the other in junior high, dropped out to work and raise money to hire another attorney.
Meanwhile, inside the Port Isabel facility, Larin felt his life slipping away.
To keep his mind occupied, he gave the other detainees haircuts, cleaned offices and every evening he offered lessons from the Bible, frequently citing passages from Romans, Chapter 8.
"It's a dangerous thing," Larin said of being incarcerated for so long. "You can go crazy with nothing to do other than stare at the four walls and think of your problems, of all you've lost."
Plotting Legal Measures
In addition to creating a backlog and slowing down the legal process, the detention build-up could also be partially responsible for the high number of writ of habeas corpus filings in the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Texas - a legal action seeking relief from an unlawful detention.
Compared to zero habeas cases in 2006 and 2007, there were already eight habeas petitions through July of this year. What had been a legal maneuver reserved for desperate circumstances is quickly becoming a common procedure.
A trial can drag on for years, but once the immigration court has issued a final order for removal the clock starts ticking and the government has 90 days to remove that individual. A number of arrangements must fall into place, including cooperation from the home country and lining up travel documents.
However, if after six months removal still does not appear imminent, the government is expected to grant a release.
The reality is more complicated.
Scores of immigrants await deportation that may never come and yet they remain behind bars.
As long as the government can effectively argue that removal is likely in the foreseeable future, it claims detention is within the boundaries of the law, according to Judy Rabinovitz, senior staff counsel with the American Civil Liberties Union's Immigrant's Rights Project.
There are several ongoing lawsuits in the U.S. 9th Circuit that are fighting the prolonged detention of people disputing their removal on meritorious claims.
Alone and largely without legal representation, many immigrant detainees are helpless to stop their removal. Under pressure, some will choose to speed up the process by agreeing to self-deport to avoid a protracted legal battle, said Lisa Brodyaga, a longtime Harlingen-based immigration attorney.
The prevailing logic for an immigrant, Brodyaga said, is to avoid spending years in prison, and instead leaving and taking another chance to re-enter the country illegally.
Trying To Hold On
Deportation wasn't an option Larin allowed himself to consider. He would gain nothing by going back to El Salvador. Besides, he had nothing in El Salvador to go back to.
His life and his family were waiting for him in Wichita.
So, he fought and he waited.
During the court proceedings for the Kansas fight, Larin managed to plead the charge down to a lesser conviction, but the change was written sloppily over the original, making the document nearly illegible. Standing in front of an immigration judge years later, Larin's lawyer, who was unfamiliar with the prior case, mistakenly admitted his client had indeed been convicted on the more severe charge.
Larin was deported and he suddenly found himself without an attorney.
In detention, Larin was allowed 20 minutes every Saturday to speak with his family. During one of those conversations, he learned of his mother's death. In another conversation, he was told of the death of his brother.
Once a year his family visited him in Los Fresnos. Separated by glass, for a half-hour they exchanged teary stories over the phone.
Larin finally caught a lucky break.
Another detainee helped him get Brodyaga's telephone number. He scribbled the number on a scrap of paper.
She agreed to take his case, and even after losing his petition for habeas, she assured him that she would fight all the way to the 5th Circuit if necessary, a prophetic promise as it turned out. The U.S. 5th Circuit ordered that Larin be given bond. Still, his case dragged on for another year as the government sought to unearth additional evidence to deport him.
Without Brodyaga stepping in to pay his $1,500 bond, he may have been subjected to another year in detention. After living a nightmare for so long, when he got the call that he'd finally won his release, he said, it felt like the beginning of a dream from which he has yet to wake. Despite the outcome, Brodyaga said, in a sense the government won too.
Behind bars, Larin's life had been put on hold. On the outside, life marched on. In his absence, his wife of 30 years had begun to lose sight in one of her eyes, the result of her untreated diabetes aggravated by stress.
His children had become parents and he a grandfather of five.
"He's back to being a permanent legal resident," Brodyaga said of Larin, "as if nothing had ever happened."
But it did happen.
Back home, he has slowly begun to pick up the pieces of his life, one day at a time. He now spends most days with his family and at church. There are moments he can't believe he is home, rapt in familial warmth. And there are days he struggles to regain what he lost.
"There are people out there that commit terrible crimes every day," Larin said. "Our biggest crime is to have not been born in the United States."
Showing posts with label Port Isabel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Port Isabel. Show all posts
August 24, 2008
June 25, 2008
Brennan's plight rooted in '96 as much as 9/11
By Jim Dee
letters@irishecho.com
June 25, 2008 Sitting 20 miles inland from the Gulf of Mexico, tiny Turcotte, Texas has seen its share of hurricanes. However, an unlucky Irishman passing through the area five months ago encountered a different maelstrom: new U.S. immigration and Homeland Security realities that have him jailed at time when his native Northern Ireland is at peace, and Washington hails some of his former IRA comrades as statesman.
Maze escapee Pol Brennan has been cooling his heels in a Texas immigration jail since being detained at a U.S. immigration checkpoint north of Turcotte on January 27 - this for having a lapsed U.S. work permit.
The fact that Brennan had filed the renewal form on time, and that U.S. authorities simply hadn't updated it at the time he was stopped, was deemed irrelevant.
So too was Britain's 2000 decision to drop its efforts to extradite Brennan back to Northern Ireland for being one of 38 IRA men who escaped the Maze prison in September 1983.
And Homeland Security prosecutors haven't been moved by the fact that federal officials had earlier authorized Brennan to live freely in the San Francisco Bay area for years while awaiting the outcome of his political asylum application.
America is far different place today than when Brennan was first arrested in 1993. The U.S. has been waging a "war on terror" since 9/11, and a bourgeoning security apparatus headed by the Department of Homeland Security looks more harshly than before at anyone with even the remotest connection to terrorism.
But "war on terror" realities aren't the chief reason that Brennan now faces the toughest battle of his 15 year struggle remain in the United States and with his American citizen wife.
Far more pertinent is the fact that his current deportation case is being framed by tough 1996 immigration reforms that scorn most circumstantial considerations and discourage any nuanced interpretations of individual cases by judges.
Like the 'three-strikes-and-your-out' criminal laws so popular nationwide in the 1990s, the 1996 immigration reforms mandate black-and-white remedies to deal with undocumented immigrants whose circumstances are can often complicated and mitigating factors.
On the surface, the case against Brennan seems pretty open-and-shut. He has a 1995 felony gun conviction that appears to disqualify him from staying in the U.S. under any circumstance under the rules contained in the 1996 legislation.
He bought the gun from a licensed dealer in the early 1990s. However, by using an alias when buying it, he committed a felony.
Given the clichéd depictions of "hardened terrorists" prevalent in pop culture today, it might be presumed that the IRA fugitive was "packing" in preparation of shooting his way out if the feds ever swooped. But Brennan's reality was much more mundane.
For starters, when the FBI arrested him in January 1993, he didn't even own the gun anymore. He'd sold it to finance his new hobby: astronomy, which he'd taken up after his wife bought him a telescopic viewer in the hopes of weaning him off the target-shooting hobby that she feared would cause problems.
"I obtained a pistol for the purpose of target shooting in the early '90s," Brennan told the Irish Echo, during a phone interview from the Port Isabel Detention Center in Los Fresnos, Texas.
"After the initial fascination wore off, I resold the pistol and bought my first telescope, as my interest in astronomy grew and the opportunity to buy some real observational equipment meant that I could put my spare time to better use increasing my knowledge of the night sky, instead of just punching holes in paper targets," said Brennan.
But what possessed him to risk buying a gun in the first place?
Brennan told the Echo that, having grown up in Belfast's Ballymurphy area - an IRA stronghold that saw daily gun battles in the early 1970s - he'd grown up viewing guns differently than someone reared in a place like Westchester County, New York or Palm Springs, California.
"It's not unusual for people who grow up around guns to retain an interest in them after their initial exposure," said Brennan.
"Coming from an unstable situation in my own country where I was exposed to an underground gun culture that arose in defense of neighborhoods that I grew up in, and being mechanically-minded, I was drawn to the unique mechanical systems of guns."
Brennan knows that he made a major mistake in buying the pistol. But he stressed that he believed that he'd already paid his debt to society for the offense.
"When I was fighting my extradition case back in the mid-90s, this gun charge was dealt with by (U.S. District Court) Judge Charles Legge, who found that I had only obtained the said pistol for sporting purposes," said Brennan. "He gave me six months, time-served, for the offense. That's where I thought it ended. Apparently not."
The gun issue might have faded away had it not been for the Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigrant Responsibility Act (IIRIRA) of 1996.
Passed by a Republican-controlled Congress and signed into law by President Bill Clinton, the IIRIRA dramatically increased spending on border enforcement. Outlays for detention and deportation of illegal immigrants have risen in the intervening years by 750 percent.
A central plank of the IIRIRA was its virtually elimination of any hope of judicial relief from deportation for any undocumented immigrant who commits a crime in the U.S.
"Since the 1996 immigration reforms, the big crackdown has been on criminal aliens," said Kevin Johnson, a law professor at the University of California at Davis who specializes in how the "war on terror" has impacted civil liberties and racial profiling.
Johnson said that post-9/11 deportations have risen dramatically.
"Every year we're setting records for the number of people deported. The last couple of years it's been around 200,000 a year," he said.
Professor Johnson said that America has a long history of enacting legislation to deal with a perceived threat from immigrants, from the Chinese Exclusion Laws of 1882, to Cold War provisions that allowed for the deportation of communists and political dissidents.
"And, in some ways, the fear of terrorism, the fear of criminal aliens, fits in nicely with the long history of our response, some would say over-response, to the perceived immigration threat of the day," he said.
Johnson said that the current focus of immigration enforcement policies is "immigrants who are in the country who have committed crimes. And the laws have become harsher and harsher, tougher and tougher."
"If you've got one conviction, maybe you can avoid deportation. If you've got two convictions, it's harder," he added. "And if you've got a firearms conviction, it's going to be very, very tough to stay."
Northern Ireland now has an historic DUP-Sinn Fein power sharing government. As one of its leaders, former IRA man Martin McGuinness has been warmly welcomed in the White House. Sinn Fein's Gerry Kelly, who escaped the Maze alongside Brennan, has also traveled freely to and from the U.S. several times in recent years.
Both men have said that tumultuous events on the ground in Northern Ireland three decades ago heavily influenced their decisions to join the republican movement. And clearly their life choices in leaving armed struggle behind in favor of politics have impressed U.S. officials at the highest levels.
Supporters of Pól Brennan - and one politician now arguing in favor of bail is Congressman Peter King, no soft touch when it comes to border security - contend that key events in his life, including his 1977 conviction for ferrying explosives through Belfast, his participation in the grueling blanket, no-wash and hunger strike protests inside the Maze, and his subsequent escape, were also shaped by the troubles.
However, Brennan's war ended when he escaped the Maze prison nearly a quarter of a century ago.
At 56, he has spent nearly half his time on earth, and the overwhelming majority of his adult life, living in America. He has been married to an American woman, Joanna Volz, for 19 years.
Brennan recently put himself through community college and later passed a test to become a certified California building inspector. He has also taken his passion for astronomy to a higher level by becoming a volunteer at Oakland's Chabot observatory, the staff of which sent a glowing character reference letter to judge in his current deportation case.
"I was living quite normally, and moving forward, before all this happened in January," Brennan told the Echo.
"I feel that, in the circumstances that I'm in now, the gun issue is being used in a more punitive way than in other ways it would have been," he added. "I feel that people have moved on over in Ireland. But, in this respect, I've not been allowed to. It's like being in a time warp."
This story appeared in the issue of June 25-July 2, 2008
letters@irishecho.com
June 25, 2008 Sitting 20 miles inland from the Gulf of Mexico, tiny Turcotte, Texas has seen its share of hurricanes. However, an unlucky Irishman passing through the area five months ago encountered a different maelstrom: new U.S. immigration and Homeland Security realities that have him jailed at time when his native Northern Ireland is at peace, and Washington hails some of his former IRA comrades as statesman.
Maze escapee Pol Brennan has been cooling his heels in a Texas immigration jail since being detained at a U.S. immigration checkpoint north of Turcotte on January 27 - this for having a lapsed U.S. work permit.
The fact that Brennan had filed the renewal form on time, and that U.S. authorities simply hadn't updated it at the time he was stopped, was deemed irrelevant.
So too was Britain's 2000 decision to drop its efforts to extradite Brennan back to Northern Ireland for being one of 38 IRA men who escaped the Maze prison in September 1983.
And Homeland Security prosecutors haven't been moved by the fact that federal officials had earlier authorized Brennan to live freely in the San Francisco Bay area for years while awaiting the outcome of his political asylum application.
America is far different place today than when Brennan was first arrested in 1993. The U.S. has been waging a "war on terror" since 9/11, and a bourgeoning security apparatus headed by the Department of Homeland Security looks more harshly than before at anyone with even the remotest connection to terrorism.
But "war on terror" realities aren't the chief reason that Brennan now faces the toughest battle of his 15 year struggle remain in the United States and with his American citizen wife.
Far more pertinent is the fact that his current deportation case is being framed by tough 1996 immigration reforms that scorn most circumstantial considerations and discourage any nuanced interpretations of individual cases by judges.
Like the 'three-strikes-and-your-out' criminal laws so popular nationwide in the 1990s, the 1996 immigration reforms mandate black-and-white remedies to deal with undocumented immigrants whose circumstances are can often complicated and mitigating factors.
On the surface, the case against Brennan seems pretty open-and-shut. He has a 1995 felony gun conviction that appears to disqualify him from staying in the U.S. under any circumstance under the rules contained in the 1996 legislation.
He bought the gun from a licensed dealer in the early 1990s. However, by using an alias when buying it, he committed a felony.
Given the clichéd depictions of "hardened terrorists" prevalent in pop culture today, it might be presumed that the IRA fugitive was "packing" in preparation of shooting his way out if the feds ever swooped. But Brennan's reality was much more mundane.
For starters, when the FBI arrested him in January 1993, he didn't even own the gun anymore. He'd sold it to finance his new hobby: astronomy, which he'd taken up after his wife bought him a telescopic viewer in the hopes of weaning him off the target-shooting hobby that she feared would cause problems.
"I obtained a pistol for the purpose of target shooting in the early '90s," Brennan told the Irish Echo, during a phone interview from the Port Isabel Detention Center in Los Fresnos, Texas.
"After the initial fascination wore off, I resold the pistol and bought my first telescope, as my interest in astronomy grew and the opportunity to buy some real observational equipment meant that I could put my spare time to better use increasing my knowledge of the night sky, instead of just punching holes in paper targets," said Brennan.
But what possessed him to risk buying a gun in the first place?
Brennan told the Echo that, having grown up in Belfast's Ballymurphy area - an IRA stronghold that saw daily gun battles in the early 1970s - he'd grown up viewing guns differently than someone reared in a place like Westchester County, New York or Palm Springs, California.
"It's not unusual for people who grow up around guns to retain an interest in them after their initial exposure," said Brennan.
"Coming from an unstable situation in my own country where I was exposed to an underground gun culture that arose in defense of neighborhoods that I grew up in, and being mechanically-minded, I was drawn to the unique mechanical systems of guns."
Brennan knows that he made a major mistake in buying the pistol. But he stressed that he believed that he'd already paid his debt to society for the offense.
"When I was fighting my extradition case back in the mid-90s, this gun charge was dealt with by (U.S. District Court) Judge Charles Legge, who found that I had only obtained the said pistol for sporting purposes," said Brennan. "He gave me six months, time-served, for the offense. That's where I thought it ended. Apparently not."
The gun issue might have faded away had it not been for the Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigrant Responsibility Act (IIRIRA) of 1996.
Passed by a Republican-controlled Congress and signed into law by President Bill Clinton, the IIRIRA dramatically increased spending on border enforcement. Outlays for detention and deportation of illegal immigrants have risen in the intervening years by 750 percent.
A central plank of the IIRIRA was its virtually elimination of any hope of judicial relief from deportation for any undocumented immigrant who commits a crime in the U.S.
"Since the 1996 immigration reforms, the big crackdown has been on criminal aliens," said Kevin Johnson, a law professor at the University of California at Davis who specializes in how the "war on terror" has impacted civil liberties and racial profiling.
Johnson said that post-9/11 deportations have risen dramatically.
"Every year we're setting records for the number of people deported. The last couple of years it's been around 200,000 a year," he said.
Professor Johnson said that America has a long history of enacting legislation to deal with a perceived threat from immigrants, from the Chinese Exclusion Laws of 1882, to Cold War provisions that allowed for the deportation of communists and political dissidents.
"And, in some ways, the fear of terrorism, the fear of criminal aliens, fits in nicely with the long history of our response, some would say over-response, to the perceived immigration threat of the day," he said.
Johnson said that the current focus of immigration enforcement policies is "immigrants who are in the country who have committed crimes. And the laws have become harsher and harsher, tougher and tougher."
"If you've got one conviction, maybe you can avoid deportation. If you've got two convictions, it's harder," he added. "And if you've got a firearms conviction, it's going to be very, very tough to stay."
Northern Ireland now has an historic DUP-Sinn Fein power sharing government. As one of its leaders, former IRA man Martin McGuinness has been warmly welcomed in the White House. Sinn Fein's Gerry Kelly, who escaped the Maze alongside Brennan, has also traveled freely to and from the U.S. several times in recent years.
Both men have said that tumultuous events on the ground in Northern Ireland three decades ago heavily influenced their decisions to join the republican movement. And clearly their life choices in leaving armed struggle behind in favor of politics have impressed U.S. officials at the highest levels.
Supporters of Pól Brennan - and one politician now arguing in favor of bail is Congressman Peter King, no soft touch when it comes to border security - contend that key events in his life, including his 1977 conviction for ferrying explosives through Belfast, his participation in the grueling blanket, no-wash and hunger strike protests inside the Maze, and his subsequent escape, were also shaped by the troubles.
However, Brennan's war ended when he escaped the Maze prison nearly a quarter of a century ago.
At 56, he has spent nearly half his time on earth, and the overwhelming majority of his adult life, living in America. He has been married to an American woman, Joanna Volz, for 19 years.
Brennan recently put himself through community college and later passed a test to become a certified California building inspector. He has also taken his passion for astronomy to a higher level by becoming a volunteer at Oakland's Chabot observatory, the staff of which sent a glowing character reference letter to judge in his current deportation case.
"I was living quite normally, and moving forward, before all this happened in January," Brennan told the Echo.
"I feel that, in the circumstances that I'm in now, the gun issue is being used in a more punitive way than in other ways it would have been," he added. "I feel that people have moved on over in Ireland. But, in this respect, I've not been allowed to. It's like being in a time warp."
This story appeared in the issue of June 25-July 2, 2008
June 19, 2008
Congressman backs Maze escapee's bail bid
Congressman backs Maze escapee's bail bid
[Published: Thursday 19, June 2008 - 11:56]
By Jim Dee
A leader of the House Homeland Security Committee in the US Congress has become the first American politician to back Maze escapee Pol Brennan's request for bail from the Texas prison where he's been held since January 27.
Speaking to the Belfast Telegraph New York Congressman Peter King said: " My experience dealing with (Irish) republicans is that they don't jump bail in this country. They honour their commitments."
King, who's been the top-ranking Republican on the Homeland Security Committee since yielding its chairmanship to a Democrat in 2007, added: " So, based on my experience, and also the republican movement's commitment to the peace process, I think he should get bail."
Brennan was detained at a US immigration checkpoint in Texas, 100 miles from the Mexican border, while en route to visit friends.
He was initially held over an expired US-issued work permit. However, when a computer background check revealed his role in the mass IRA jailbreak of 38 prisoners from the Maze in September 1983, he was taken to Port Isabel Detention Center in Los Fresnos, Texas, where he remains.
US authorities have known about Brennan's whereabouts since the FBI arrested him in Berkley, California in 1993.
Although Britain dropped its seven-year drive to have Brennan extradited in 2000, Department of Homeland Security prosecutors now want him deported because he entered the US using a phony name months after the escape.
In April, Texas immigration judge Howard Achtsam rejected Brennan's bail petition because he deemed the Ballymurphy native a flight risk, and a danger to society, due to a misdemeanor 2006 assault conviction.
Brennan's lawyer has appealed the bail denial, arguing that Brennan's strict observance of bail terms when twice freed from US custody in the 1990s during pending British extradition moves, proves that he isn't a flight risk.
After four months in solitary confinement, Brennan was recently moved back into a dormitory-style lockup with 60 other prisoners , where he has access to several hours of outdoor daily exercise.
Meanwhile, Paul Lynch, a Labour Party Minister for Aboriginal Affairs in Australia's New South Wales assembly, has written to the US consulate general in Sydney, Judith Fergin, to express concern over Brennan's continued detention, which he called "at best, absurd."
Lynch told the Belfast Telegraph that he also can't understand why Brennan is being denied bail.
"At an earlier time, Pol Brennan was allowed bail and reported back to face the tribunal," Lynch said "That having been the case in the past — given that the Good Friday Agreement has since occurred — it seems utterly bizarre that he wouldn't be allowed bail now."
Brennan's next court date is on August 12, when immigration Judge Howard Achtsam will consider whether or not to grant Brennan a green card, based on his 19-year marriage to his American wife, Joanna Olz.
A favourable ruling by Achtsam, who has a track record of overwhelming ruling against immigrant asylum petitions, would mean that Brennan would then receive permanent residency in the US.
[Published: Thursday 19, June 2008 - 11:56]
By Jim Dee
A leader of the House Homeland Security Committee in the US Congress has become the first American politician to back Maze escapee Pol Brennan's request for bail from the Texas prison where he's been held since January 27.
Speaking to the Belfast Telegraph New York Congressman Peter King said: " My experience dealing with (Irish) republicans is that they don't jump bail in this country. They honour their commitments."
King, who's been the top-ranking Republican on the Homeland Security Committee since yielding its chairmanship to a Democrat in 2007, added: " So, based on my experience, and also the republican movement's commitment to the peace process, I think he should get bail."
Brennan was detained at a US immigration checkpoint in Texas, 100 miles from the Mexican border, while en route to visit friends.
He was initially held over an expired US-issued work permit. However, when a computer background check revealed his role in the mass IRA jailbreak of 38 prisoners from the Maze in September 1983, he was taken to Port Isabel Detention Center in Los Fresnos, Texas, where he remains.
US authorities have known about Brennan's whereabouts since the FBI arrested him in Berkley, California in 1993.
Although Britain dropped its seven-year drive to have Brennan extradited in 2000, Department of Homeland Security prosecutors now want him deported because he entered the US using a phony name months after the escape.
In April, Texas immigration judge Howard Achtsam rejected Brennan's bail petition because he deemed the Ballymurphy native a flight risk, and a danger to society, due to a misdemeanor 2006 assault conviction.
Brennan's lawyer has appealed the bail denial, arguing that Brennan's strict observance of bail terms when twice freed from US custody in the 1990s during pending British extradition moves, proves that he isn't a flight risk.
After four months in solitary confinement, Brennan was recently moved back into a dormitory-style lockup with 60 other prisoners , where he has access to several hours of outdoor daily exercise.
Meanwhile, Paul Lynch, a Labour Party Minister for Aboriginal Affairs in Australia's New South Wales assembly, has written to the US consulate general in Sydney, Judith Fergin, to express concern over Brennan's continued detention, which he called "at best, absurd."
Lynch told the Belfast Telegraph that he also can't understand why Brennan is being denied bail.
"At an earlier time, Pol Brennan was allowed bail and reported back to face the tribunal," Lynch said "That having been the case in the past — given that the Good Friday Agreement has since occurred — it seems utterly bizarre that he wouldn't be allowed bail now."
Brennan's next court date is on August 12, when immigration Judge Howard Achtsam will consider whether or not to grant Brennan a green card, based on his 19-year marriage to his American wife, Joanna Olz.
A favourable ruling by Achtsam, who has a track record of overwhelming ruling against immigrant asylum petitions, would mean that Brennan would then receive permanent residency in the US.
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