Ghanaian Boy In Limbo

Advocates push for changes in handling of detained children
PHILADELPHIA (AP) — Julian Yeboah was 10 years old and had $1.25 in his pockets when he arrived alone in New York after a long flight from Ghana.

Immigration officials, unsure of where the boy's parents were or how he boarded the plane without travel documents, sent him to a detention center in Pennsylvania while they figured out what to do with him.

Three years later, he is still in custody.

Child advocates said the 13-year-old is one of hundreds of unlucky youngsters who languish in detention for months or even years after they are captured trying to cross the border illegally, either alone or in the company of smugglers.

While they wait, many live in shelters that share facilities with teenage delinquents. Schooling is limited. Many don't have access to a lawyer. Contact with the outside world is often limited to visiting hours, a few days a week.

Critics say the system treats immigrant children too much like criminals.

"Most of these kids didn't do anything wrong, except for crossing the border," said Merritt Becker, a policy advocate for the Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service. "They deserve better treatment."

The problem is one lawmakers have recognized for years and have targeted in a series of recent reforms.

This year, responsibility for caring for detained children was transferred from the former Immigration and Naturalization Service, which was dismantled, to the Department of Health and Human Services' Office of Refugee Resettlement. Advocates said the move has drastically increased the number of children placed in foster care or reunited with their relatives.

A bill before the House and Senate would make further changes, including creating a system that would link every detained child with a pro-bono lawyer.

The Unaccompanied Alien Child Protection Act, sponsored by Sen. Dianne Feinstein and U.S. Rep. Zoe Lofgren, both California Democrats, would also limit the circumstances in which children could be placed in a secure detention center and mandate the appointment of a guardian for each of them who would act as an advocate in the absence of their parents.

Chris Nugent, a Washington lawyer whose firm represents several detained children, said the act's ultimate goal is to reduce the time the children spend in limbo and ensure that they are better cared for until their cases are resolved.

"Right now, it's a broken system," he said.

At best, it has been a sluggish system for Julian Yeboah, who was sent to the Berks County Youth Center in Leesport after he turned up at John F. Kennedy International Airport in 2000.

The circumstances of his arrival in the United States remain in dispute. Immigration officials said his father put him on a flight from Ghana with the intention of sending him to live with an aunt, possibly under the mistaken belief that Julian could legally send for the rest of his family when he turned 18.

Julian's volunteer attorneys have argued that he was abused by his family in Ghana, and should be given a special classification that lets abandoned alien juveniles remain in the United States in foster care.

A federal appeals court ruled against Julian in late September, but it is unclear when he might be forced to leave. His attorney, Gerard Dever, has appealed.

Julian is now staying in a group home, Dever said. He declined to say where.

The number of children arriving in the United States unaccompanied by an adult has increased steadily in recent years, rising from 2,375 in 1997 to 5,385 in 2001, according to the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. That number is predicted to rise to 6,600 by the end of this year, Nugent said.

Most children detained by the agency stay in the government's custody for less time. Many of those who enter without an adult along the Mexican border are summarily deported. Others are allowed to live with family members in the United States while the immigration courts ponder whether they will be allowed to stay.

The remainder wind up in shelters like the Berks County Youth Center, which Nugent called "de-facto detention centers."

"The kids in these places are not allowed to wear regular clothes. They have to wear sweat suits or jump suits. There are videotaped all the time. They are fenced in. In a lot of cases, they are not allowed to wear shoes, they have to wear these prison slippers," he said. "They are sort of out of sight, out of mind. We have to change that."