More than 15 years after Maria Romo Leroux made the journey to enter the United States, she still dreams someone is trying to pull her back into her native Mexico.
The fear of not being able to stay with her children — who were born in the U.S. — and her husband, a naturalized U.S. citizen, haunts her as she’s tried to adjust her immigration status for seven years.
“Especially having my children, I know that I would not want to stay over there,” Romo Leroux said.
A program introduced this summer by President Joe Biden called Keeping Families Together would have given people like Romo Leroux — undocumented immigrants married to U.S. citizens — the possibility of obtaining “parole in place,” meaning they could stay in the country while trying to adjust their immigration status.
Before Romo Leroux submitted her application, more than a dozen Republican-led states filed a federal lawsuit arguing Biden’s administration was creating its own immigration system. A federal judge in Texas issued an order halting the program until Sept. 23, weeks before the general election.
Could ease quest for work permit
The program would have allowed an undocumented person married to a U.S. citizen to apply for parole in place, which would let the person remain in the country while seeking a work permit and applying for permanent residency without having to travel to a U.S. consulate’s office abroad, according to the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services.
While the federal agency can accept applications, the court order stipulates the program is paused until Sept. 23 as the judge weighs legal arguments.
An estimated 550,000 people would have been eligible, according to the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. It was unclear how many people have applied.
A person who entered the country without authorization typically can’t adjust their status without staying outside of the U.S. for 10 years, said Jasmine Pedraza, an Elgin-based immigration attorney and a member of American Families United, a group that has pushed for parole in place. Biden’s program would have replaced a lengthy process undocumented spouses take to petition for a waiver of grounds of inadmissibility, which is necessary when a person entered the country without authorization, she said.
Across the country, there are an estimated 11 million undocumented immigrants, according the Migration Policy Institute. Pedraza said Keeping Families Together still would not address the needs of many mixed-status families.
“The majority of immigrants married to United States citizens do not qualify for the parole in place program and do not qualify for the waiver process,” said Pedraza. “The push was ultimately for families like mine. We got parole in place out of it, which is great for so many people, but it does not even come close to helping the amount of people that need help.”
For example, people with criminal convictions that fall under certain categories would not qualify, according to experts.
Karolyn Talbert, associate director of legal services for the Chicago-based National Immigrant Justice Center, said people should consult with a trusted attorney before moving forward to discuss an individual case. There’s also the risk of losing the $580 filing fee if the program never resumes, she said.
“Receiving parole in place is a substantial benefit, and we are hopeful that this program is allowed to proceed,” she said.
Lacey Chontal, 42, of Quincy, said her biggest fear is that her husband, 38, wouldn’t be allowed to return to the United States while attempting to adjust his status. They’ve been married 14 years, and they have four children together in addition to three other children Chontal already had when they met.
“That’s the whole reason people have been staying in the shadows is due to fear,” Chontal said. “And it’s fearmongering among the political parties, fearmongering from the government. They’re wanting to do the right thing, and people are scared to do so because of the consequences that they can face.”
Chontal and her husband submitted the application for parole in place, but it is now among the cases in limbo. During a recent trip to St. Louis, the couple did biometrics, such as fingerprints, as part of the application process — in case the program resumes.
“(It’s) like pins and needles because you’re thinking to yourself, ‘You’re messing with people’s lives here,’ ” she said.
On the city’s Northwest Side, Michelle Garcia, 47, said she and her undocumented husband of 13 years had been waiting for an opportunity to adjust his immigration status.
They hadn’t moved forward before because of his criminal record in his early 20s and concerns about how much support he needs because of his disability. Her husband, who is now in his 40s, has quadriplegia and is bedridden, and Garcia has cerebral palsy.
“When I’m advocating for my spouse today, I’m not only doing it for him, I’m hoping to be that precedent that others can do this as well,” Garcia said.
They had consulted with an attorney and were ready to submit their application when the program was halted. Still, Garcia said she remains optimistic.
If her husband is able to get permanent residency, Garcia said it would help them navigate a complex health care system that is even more difficult for undocumented people. They’ve struggled to get him basic medical supplies like a wheelchair and a hospital bed for their home.
“So having (permanent resident) status would mean the process of all these things, of all these hurdles to be jumped a little bit quicker than having to wait almost a year for one thing to happen,” Garcia said.
Bloody journey to U.S.: ‘I had nothing’
Romo Leroux, 34, still has photos showing bloody scrapes and cuts she got from walking for hours through the desert to get to the United States.
“I was tired, I had no water, I had nothing,” she said, recalling how she called an aunt who lived in the United States, thinking she wasn’t going to make it. “Just tell them where I’m at, give them my call info, my number, hopefully they could track it.”
Romo Leroux is the only one among her siblings who was born in Mexico. She came to the United States when she was about 2 years old, and she spent most of her life in America, she said. When she was a teenager, her family temporarily moved back to Mexico, she said. As a minor, Romo Leroux said she had a visa that allowed her to enter the U.S., but she was denied a renewal after she turned 18.
Romo Leroux said it was upsetting to think of “the whole idea of not being able to come to the U.S., to where I’ve grown, to see my friends. I had my car, I had a job, I was going to school, I was doing good, and then just be shut down,” Romo Leroux said.
She obtained an associate’s degree, but she had to pivot to start her own business rather than pursue a career in law enforcement. She and her husband, Benny Romo Leroux, are renting a home in suburban Cook County rather than buying, because of the uncertainty of her immigration case.
“We are Americans,” Benny Romo Leroux said. “Ultimately, she’s an American. She just happened to be born in Mexico, but her destiny should have been here.”