“Dad,” my daughter Karis said, “it was just so random!” She added, “This is the kind of stuff that happens to other people.” What my 15-year- old was reacting to was the recent carjacking she had endured.
“Dad,” my
daughter Karis said, “it was just so random!” She added, “This is the
kind of stuff that happens to other people.” What my 15-year- old was
reacting to was the recent carjacking she had endured.
My wife, Mindy,
and our two daughters — Karis and 12-year-old Hannah, were visiting
family in Texas. They had arranged to meet my oldest brother’s family
at a convenience store near my in-laws home in the small town of
Salado. The purpose of the rendezvous was to pick up my 15-year-old
niece so she could spend the night with her cousins.
At
approximately 10 o’clock that evening, Mindy and Karis arrived at the
convenience store about the same time as my brother and his family.
Hannah had elected to stay behind at their grandma’s house.
Karis left the
passenger seat to welcome her cousin, Sidney. Mindy left the van and
walked around to greet our sister-in-law. They said “hi” and hugged as
the girls were transferring Sidney’s overnight bag from my brother’s
car to our van.
When Mindy
returned to the van she was stunned to find a man sitting in the
driver’s seat. He had started the van and was putting it in gear. My
wife’s only thought was that her daughter and niece were in the van.
In frantic
desperation, Mindy grabbed the van’s open door. As the man drove off,
he pushed her away. Thinking the girls were in the van, my wife was
seized by panic.
What my wife
did not know was what was taking place on the other side of the van.
About the same time that my wife was making her discovery, Karis was
getting into the van. She saw the man and yelled, “Get out.” She said
he only laughed and said something in Spanish.
While Mindy was
clinging to the door and Karis was confronting the carjacker, Sidney
was taking a seat in the van. When the vehicle began to move, my
daughter jumped out of harm’s way. My niece realized what was
happening, leapt from the moving van and landed face down on the
parking lot.
About that
time, a man walked out of the convenience store and saw what was
happening. Thinking quickly, he jumped into his car and followed the
van. He and others called 911 and in about 20 minutes the carjacker was
arrested and our van recovered.
The story of my
family’s carjacking turned out well. For that, I am thankful to the
Lord. Other than some scrapes and bruises Sidney suffered from her
jump, everyone emerged safe and sound. Others in similar situations
have not experienced such a happy ending.
The purpose of
my telling this story really has less to do with my family and more to
do with the carjacker. When he was apprehended, law enforcement learned
that he was in the United States illegally.
While I have
not been informed of his actual country of origin, based on his name
and language, the 20-year-old carjacker is most likely Mexican. It was
also discovered that until recently he had been at a mental institution
in state custody.
Words cannot
describe how happy I am that none of my family was harmed. At the same
time, however, words cannot fully describe my frustration with our
government, and President Bush, over the lack of border control. Simply
put, if our borders were secure, my family may not have endured a
dangerous, distressing situation.
Lest someone
think I am a bigot with an immigrant chip on my shoulder, please
understand I was reared in a small town in Central Texas. Until I was
around 12 years old, I was the only Caucasian kid in a neighborhood
that was made up primarily of Mexican-Americans.
Until I was
eight, I thought my name in Spanish was “Bolillo.” That was what
all my Mexican friends called me. One day they told me that “bolillo”
was a white bread popular in Mexico. Since I was the only white kid
around, they thought it was an apt nickname.
In some parts
of the country the term “bolillo,” when applied to a Caucasian, is
considered derogatory. My friends, however, meant it as a term of
endearment. And given the context, it fit.
The above
having been stated, I believe that illegal immigration is out of
control in America. I do not have the time nor the space to cite
statistics that reveal that illegal aliens –- and I do stress the word
“illegal” — are a drain on the American economy.
Our country has
a process whereby a person can come here legally. When you ignore that
process, for whatever reason, you are a criminal.
Some argue that
illegal immigrants come to our country in order to provide a better
life for their poverty- stricken families. While I am somewhat
sympathetic to that argument, the same could be made for thieves.
Aren’t they only trying to provide for their families?
If we are going to excuse illegal immigration on the basis of motive and/or need, then let’s excuse other crimes as well.
There are those
that justify illegal immigration on the basis that the process of
becoming legal takes too long and is fraught with bureaucratic red
tape. Okay, fine. I want to be a lawyer but I think it takes too long
to obtain a license to practice law. I also think the bar exam is just
a bureaucratic hoop that I want to avoid. As a result, I’ll put a sign
outside stating that I am a lawyer, when I in fact am not one. If
length of time and bureaucracy can be used to justify illegal
immigration, then it can be used to justify most any behavior or
practice.
I know there is
no simple solution to the problem of illegal immigration. However, we
can and we must secure and control our border, and not just for the
sake of our economy. In some instances, the safety of our citizens is
at stake.
While I am
grateful beyond words that my family endured the carjacking safely, I
am frustrated beyond description that our lawmakers, as well as our
president, are so nonchalant over the issue. Something tells me if any
of their families were ever victimized like mine was, things would
change. Until then, I suppose, they will continue to think it just
happens to other people.