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		Separated by U.S. border patrol, one pregnant woman searches for her 
		husband
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		 [March 24, 2021] 
		By Mimi Dwyer 
 DEL RIO, Texas (Reuters) - Nehemie 
		Montrose, a mother-to-be from Haiti, stood anxiously outside a respite 
		center for migrants in Del Rio, Texas, waiting for the daily border 
		patrol buses dropping off migrants who had recently crossed the 
		U.S.-Mexico border.
 
 For five days Nehemie, 29, had waited and watched people get off the 
		buses in single file. Again her husband, Josue Macon, was not among 
		them. They had crossed the Rio Grande river that separates Texas from 
		Mexico days earlier and been taken into custody by U.S. border patrol 
		agents. She had not seen him since.
 
 Inside a border patrol station, the couple was separated and Josue was 
		sent to a men's outdoor holding area, Nehemie said. That was the last 
		she saw of him before she was taken to the center in Del Rio, Texas, 
		where she now waited for any word of his whereabouts.
 
 "Every day I think my husband is coming," Nehemie said as she sat 
		outside the center on Sunday afternoon. "I wait so much and he doesn't 
		come." She clasped her palms together. She had written Josue's name on 
		one of them with a pen, and added a Spanish inscription: "I miss my 
		love. I am suffering so much."
 
		
		 
		
 Cases like Nehemie's highlight the scramble on the ground as increasing 
		number of migrants arrive at crowded border patrol facilities, and U.S. 
		authorities have to make swift case-by-case calls about whom to release, 
		whom to detain and whom to expel.
 
 A SEPARATION
 
 After U.S. border patrol separated Nehemie and her husband in custody, 
		Nehemie fell asleep for a few hours. When she woke she asked about her 
		husband. She was told he was gone, she said.
 
 In the Spanish she had picked up since leaving Haiti three years 
		earlier, Nehemie said she begged officers for help. She told them she 
		was pregnant, that the couple had planned to go to his family in the 
		United States, whom she had never met. How could she go there without 
		him?
 
 She said her pleas for help went unanswered. Instead, she was put on a 
		bus and taken to the Val Verde Border Humanitarian Coalition (VVBHC), an 
		organization that has been helping released migrants in the border town 
		of Del Rio and runs the respite center. She does not understand why she 
		was released but her husband was not.
 
 U.S. Customs and Border Protection declined to comment on the specifics 
		of Nehemie's case. It said in a statement that migrants could be 
		released pending an immigration hearing on a "case-by-case" basis, 
		taking into consideration "legal requirements, COVID-19 protocols, 
		changes in Mexican law, U.S. holding capacity, and the health situation 
		of the individual."
 
 The Biden administration has hammered the message that the border is 
		closed and that most arriving migrants, other than children traveling 
		without legal guardians, will be expelled from the country under a 
		Trump-era public health order put in place to limit the spread of the 
		novel coronavirus.
 
 But in practice, the government is releasing thousands of migrants, 
		mostly families, in Del Rio, the Rio Grande Valley, and elsewhere, in 
		part due to a change in law in one Mexican state that limits which 
		families the United States can return.
 
 Tiffany Burrow, director of operations for the VVBHC, told Reuters she 
		has seen 100 people released on average per day to the facility since 
		the end of February, mostly Haitian families.
 
 She said cases like Nehemie's, where released migrants have no idea what 
		has happened to family members they had been traveling with, were a 
		daily occurrence.
 
 [to top of second column]
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			Nehemie Montrose, a 29 year old Haitian migrant, sits outside Val 
			Verde Border Humanitarian Coalition for the fifth day in a row while 
			waiting for her husband to appear in Del Rio, Texas, U.S., March 21, 
			2021. Montrose, who is five months pregnant, crossed the Rio Grande 
			river from Ciudad Acuna, Mexico with her husband, Josue Macon, into 
			the small central Texas border town of Del Rio on March 16. When 
			U.S. border patrol took them into custody, agents separated the 
			couple, sending Josue to an outdoor holding area. REUTERS/Adrees 
			Latif 
            
			 
            On the same day Nehemie spoke to Reuters outside the center, a 
			Venezuelan husband and his pregnant wife were holding vigil for his 
			mother, who had not been released with them. They, too, hoped she 
			would arrive on the bus. Like Josue, she did not.
 'I FEEL AWFUL'
 
 All around Nehemie at the respite center, families were enjoying 
			their first moments of freedom in the United States - children rode 
			tricycles and kicked soccer balls while their parents tried to sort 
			out their onward travel, asking volunteers for help as they booked 
			tickets to their loved ones.
 
 Nehemie could not bring herself to talk to anyone. Watching couples 
			get off the bus together was particularly hard for her.
 
 Her voice broke. "I feel awful when someone comes with their husband 
			and I don't have mine," she said.
 
 Nehemie had no money and no way to communicate with him. Josue 
			carried all of the couple's cash and their shared cellphone. The Del 
			Rio center has no overnight capacity, so a pastor paid for her to 
			say in a motel for a few nights. She called her husband's phone 
			repeatedly from the center, but the calls did not go through.
 
 While the separation of adult family members in immigration is not 
			new, advocates are calling on the Biden administration to fulfill 
			its promise of a more humane immigration system by allowing families 
			like Nehemie's to stay together, or reunifying those that have been 
			separated.
 
 Guerline Jozef, executive director of the Haitian Bridge Alliance, 
			an organization focused on helping Black immigrants, said under 
			former President Donald Trump she saw cases where pregnant women 
			were released but their partners were detained and deported.
 
 This has left behind "a slew of single women and fatherless children 
			whose fathers and partners cannot do anything to be reunited with 
			their families," she said.
 
 
             
			By Sunday, Nehemie knew she had to leave the border. She had barely 
			eaten for days. Her pregnancy had made her prone to vomiting, and 
			she could not keep the respite center's sandwiches down. She planned 
			to fly the next morning to Josue's older brother in Florida who had 
			bought her an airline ticket.
 
 Marjorie Macon, Josue's sister-in-law, had some news for her when 
			she landed: Josue had called from an Immigration and Customs 
			Enforcement (ICE) facility.
 
 It wasn't clear whether he was being held there prior to being 
			deported.
 
 ICE confirmed that Josue was in their custody in Mississippi but did 
			not respond to questions about the case.
 
 (Reporting by Mimi Dwyer; Editing by Ross Colvin and Aurora Ellis)
 
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