271: Best Interests

Ira Glass

Colin was 14, a straight-A student, in a program for gifted kids. But he hated school. And this spring, a few weeks before the end of eighth grade, before he would leave middle school forever, he looked at his grade point average, did a little calculation, and realized something kind of amazing.

Ira Glass

He didn't just quit school all at once though. For a while he went to class. But quietly, and deliberately, stopped doing his work, on principle.

Ira Glass

He cut school completely one time. And then a second time. And both times, the school tried to call his parents, but Colin, naturally, intercepted those messages and erased them from the family answering machine. And the third day that Colin cut school, it led to a kind of uncomfortable moment for his dad.

His dad you see, is a behavior specialist for the public schools, in charge of training administrators how to keep kids doing what they're supposed to be doing. At a hundred schools, in three counties in Oregon, including the school that Colin attends.

Ira Glass

It's kind of a stumper, what to do. On the one hand, Colin had a point. He was thinking independently, which his dad wants. Maybe the right thing to do would be to let Colin stop doing his schoolwork, and then force him to live through the consequences of that very adult decision. Maybe that would teach him something useful.

On the other hand, Colin had a history of trying to wriggle out of his responsibilities. And so letting him wriggle out of something so big and important, it just didn't sit right. His dad tried to convince him to return to school.

Ira Glass

Colin's dad says this is par for the course. You can't raise kids without getting into situations where you don't know what to do. Because as kids develop, they fight against you, try to get their independence. And sometimes you have to let them win those fights. And sometimes you have to stop them. And at every stage in their growth, there's going to be situations where it's going to be unclear what to do, what is best.

Which brings us to the subject of today's radio program. From WBEZ Chicago, this is This American Life, distributed by Public Radio International. I'm Ira Glass. Today we have two stories about adults struggling to figure out what is in the best interest of some child. And in situations where, what is best is not so clear. Act One of our program, I'd Prefer Not. In that act, as you heard, a 14 year old boy nearly gets the last word with his own father.

Act Two, Exodus of One. In that story, a three year old girl comes into this country from another country with illegal papers. And authorities don't know what to do with her, and make their best guess. Years later, one of the officials goes on a search to find out if they did the right thing. Stay with us.

Ira Glass

Act One. I'd Prefer Not.

So during this three week fight between Colin and his dad, Colin did agree to go back to school until it was resolved. And one day in math class, the teacher, as you'd expect, noticed that Colin was doing absolutely nothing.

Ira Glass

Colin Dunn and his father Corey, in Oregon.

Ira Glass

Act Two, Exodus of One.

There are over 5,000 children each year who get caught at the borders or at the airport, trying to come into this country without a parent or a legal guardian. No legal papers. The law is clear-cut to what to do about them, but the situation often is not so clear-cut. They're taken to residential facilities. One is in Chicago, on a neighborhood street on the north side.

It's innocuous looking. A two story, white brick building, bounded by an iron wrought fence, called the International Children's Center. It's run by a nonprofit agency under contract with the US government, and houses up to 70 children at a time, most of them teenagers, from China, Africa, Central America, and elsewhere. The average stay is two to three months.

During that time, the children don't know what's going to happen to them. If they're going to be allowed to stay in the United States, or they're going to be sent back. Alex Kotlowitz has this story, about one of the memorable and difficult cases that they faced in the last few years.

Alex Kotlowitz

On the afternoon of December 14, 1999, at Chicago's O'Hare airport, immigration officials pulled aside a three year old girl named Georgia Norman. She had arrived at O'Hare with a woman from Milwaukee, and customs officials discovered that Georgia's visa had been forged.

Little was known about the girl other than her name, and that she was from Jamaica. Given her age, she couldn't tell the officials very much. And the woman from Milwaukee was vague about her relationship with the girl. So the INS, concerned that the woman might be smuggling the girl to sell her as part of a child trafficking operation, took her into protective custody and brought her to the International Children's Center.

Alex Kotlowitz

This is Hugo Ruiz, the center's director. For the first few weeks, Georgia threw tantrums when she didn't get her way, biting and spitting at those who tried to comfort her. She had nightmares. In the morning she'd awake disoriented, asking for her family. She refused to eat her meals. The staff at the center had such trouble with Georgia, that Hugo had to step in.

Alex Kotlowitz

Hugo, who is 54, is even keeled and patient. An immigrant himself, from Peru, on some level he identified with the confusion and uncertainty the children at the center felt. Also he had raised two daughters of his own. He continued to read to Georgia at night, and let her tag along with him to meetings downtown.

Soon, the crying and the fits stopped. Georgia began to feel at home. She had the run of the place. She was a beautiful child, with a smile Hugo said, that could put anyone under her power. And because she was so much younger than most of the children at the center, she was doted on. Especially by some of the older girls, many of whom had left younger siblings behind.

Alex Kotlowitz

Sagal [? Abdi, ?] who was 17 at the time, was from Somalia. Like some of the other kids here, she was running from horrific memories. In her case, the brutality of her country's civil wars, which had claimed the life of her father.

Many other kids, especially the Chinese, are sent here by their parents, often with the aid of smugglers, in the hope that they'll find work and be able to send money home. Though the kids don't know the particulars of each other's stories, they feel connected by their common experiences. Sagal became Georgia's roommate, and they became like sisters.

One day, Sagal learned that her effort to gain political asylum had run into some problems.

Alex Kotlowitz

Georgia seemed to know that since she was so much younger than everyone else, she could usually get her way. Either through petty stubbornness, or through charm. I was visiting the center around that time, and I remember how the staff would break program rules for her. They snuck her extra candy. They brought her Barbie dolls, which she coveted. They hired a clown for her birthday. The older girls like Sagal used their allowances to buy her presents. And they would take turns braiding her hair. They taught her phrases in Spanish and Chinese.

When the children posed for photographs, Georgia, like a little Zelig, would dance her way into these pictures. At the center she learned to ride a bike. She rode her first elevator. She learned to swim at the nearby YMCA. Meanwhile, Hugo tried to figure out her future. Which first meant figuring out her past. In the afternoons, Hugo invited Georgia to come visit him at his first floor office.

Alex Kotlowitz

Even after three months at the center, no one knew much about Georgia. Where she was from in Jamaica, who her parents were, how she ended up in this country with this woman from Milwaukee. She was a three year old girl without a history. No one knew what to do with her. Three months turned into four, and eventually into six.

Through all of this, the only absolute that Hugo knew, was that if Georgia stayed at the center, she'd be OK. But he knew she couldn't remain there indefinitely.

Alex Kotlowitz

In the wake of Elian Gonzales, Georgia's story made national news. And the outrage was that a three year old girl had been in custody for so long. TV crews parked outside the center. Local congressmen, along with Jesse Jackson, demanded a meeting with Georgia to make sure she was OK. Which of course she was. They wanted something done for this three year old girl. But there really weren't any clear options.

Then a reporter from Milwaukee located Georgia's mother near Runaway Bay, a resort town on Jamaica's north coast. It appeared that Georgia's mother had willingly given Georgia to the Milwaukee woman, in the hope that she might have a better life in America. Georgia's mother also made it clear to authorities that she wanted Georgia back home. So a decision was made to reunite Georgia with her mother.

And while that seemed like the obvious choice, it worried those who had taken care of her. What does it mean to send a child back to a parent who was willing to give her away? This question weighed heavily on Hugo.

Alex Kotlowitz

Georgia left the center in June of 2000, just two weeks after she'd turned four. Hugo woke her early for a 6:00 AM flight. She wore her favorite outfit, a blouse with umbrellas, blue jeans, and tennis shoes with blinking lights. Hugo tried to prepare Georgia for the trip, letting her know that he was taking her to her mother.

But it soon became apparent that Georgia thought this was simply a visit. And that she'd return to Chicago with Hugo. When they arrived at the airport in Kingston, they were greeted by a representative from the Jamaican government.

Alex Kotlowitz

This past May, Hugo began to look for Georgia. She would be nearly eight years old.

Alex Kotlowitz

In those intervening four years, Hugo hadn't stopped worrying about Georgia. He wondered what kind of life she had in Jamaica, if in fact she was still there. Maybe her mother had given her away again. In the main hallway of the center, he had hung a photo of Georgia on roller skates, taken just before she left the center, on her birthday. And he held on to the two American Airline ticket stubs that he used to fly Georgia back home. They remained in his wallet for four years.

Alex Kotlowitz

Over the past few years, Hugo had talked to me about going down to Jamaica to find Georgia. He had never done anything like this with any other children from the center. This past spring, I suggested we finally make the trip.

Truth was, we weren't even certain we'd be able to find her. We pulled an old phone number from her lawyer's documents. We tried calling Jamaicans with the same last name. But nothing. Then shortly before we were going to depart, I found Sheila Ramos, the Milwaukee woman who had brought Georgia into this country with a forged visa.

Remember, officials initially believed that she might be trafficking in children, planning to sell Georgia. That turned out not to be the case. But given those early suspicions, I was surprised that she so readily agreed to talk to me. I would have thought she'd want to put the whole episode behind her. I drove to her home in Milwaukee, not sure what to expect.

Alex Kotlowitz

When Sheila Ramos tells the story of her decision to take Georgia back to the US with her, it seems surprisingly innocent. And at the same time, strangely spur of the moment. Sheila's 50 and married, works with inner city youth, and has two grown children of her own. Once a year Sheila would bring a group of Milwaukee teenagers to Jamaica, and on one visit, she met Georgia and her mother, Margaret Francis.

Margaret would bring Georgia by the hotel so she could swim in its pool. Margaret and Sheila became friendly and stayed in touch. When Sheila returned the next year, the idea of her taking Georgia back to the US came up.

Alex Kotlowitz

And that was that. It didn't even occur to Sheila that she'd need anything more than legal guardianship to bring Georgia into the US. Her husband Carlos though, had reservations. And when he met Margaret, he wasn't reassured.

Alex Kotlowitz

In the end Carlos gave in, because Sheila wanted it so much.

Alex Kotlowitz

After spending an afternoon with Sheila, and meeting the people around her, I was convinced that her intentions were good. She runs a small youth center, and not long ago took in a 17 year old neighborhood girl who'd been abandoned by her family. The girl calls Sheila mom.

But here's the last thing I expected to hear. Four years after trying to bring Georgia into this country, she's now trying again. She's attempting to formally adopt her. And though her first effort was denied, she is now appealing the decision. She had stayed in close touch with Margaret. There had been regular visits, and they speak every week. And so Sheila was also able to solve the mystery of how to find Georgia. She gave me Margaret's phone number, and Hugo called to arrange a visit.

As we headed down to Jamaica, we worried about what kind of situation we'd find Georgia in. Whether she was still being cared for, what could be going on that her mother was still trying so hard to give her away. In a sense, things had come full circle. Four years ago, Georgia must have felt abandoned. First by her mother, then by Sheila, and finally by Hugo. And now four years later, Georgia was back with her mother, and faced being sent away yet again. It's exactly what Hugo had feared.

Ira Glass

Coming up, Alex and Hugo in Jamaica. That's in a minute, from Chicago Public Radio and Public Radio International when our program continues.

This American Life, I'm Ira Glass. Alex Kotlowitz's story continues, tracking down a little girl after four years.

Alex Kotlowitz

We arrived in Runaway Bay, Jamaica, on Memorial Day weekend. Margaret and Georgia had agreed to meet us at the hotel that first evening. And so we waited for them near the front door, watching a game of netball on the lobby's television. They soon arrived. They were holding hands. Georgia was four years older, nearly eight now, but she looked unmistakably like the young girl I'd met in Chicago. She wore her hair in braids, two to the side like pigtails, and a double braid down her back. Hugo approached Georgia.

Alex Kotlowitz

She didn't recognize him, and hid behind her mother, clutching one of her legs.

Alex Kotlowitz

Both Georgia and her mother had dressed up for the occasion. Margaret, a sturdily built woman with a shortly cropped afro, wore a white linen shorts suit. Georgia wore a neatly ironed white button down blouse, and a short blue denim skirt. We went and sat by the pool and Georgia, understandably wary of the microphone, kept her distance. Hugo sat in a chair, and Georgia stood a few feet away.

Alex Kotlowitz

We had brought along photographs of two of the teenagers who had been particularly close to Georgia in Chicago.

Alex Kotlowitz

One was of [? Bi-wi ?] Lin, a girl from China. And the other was a photograph taken at the center of Sagal and Georgia.

Alex Kotlowitz

In the photos, Sagal is kneeling, her cheek pressed up against Georgia's. Both are smiling, their arms slung around each other.

Alex Kotlowitz

Margaret smiled timidly. While she's reserved, almost shy, it was clear she appreciated hearing of Georgia's time in Chicago. Though she never asked Hugo any questions about her life there. I remembered Sheila's husband, Carlos, telling me how incurious she was. Margaret told Hugo about a visit she and Georgia took to Bob Marley's grave site. Georgia walked over from the pool at that point.

Alex Kotlowitz

Georgia was warming up to Hugo. They traded facts about Bob Marley for a while. And then her attention drifted toward the pool. She waded in, and Hugo encouraged her to go deeper. She looked back at her mom, like any good kid would, for permission.

Alex Kotlowitz

At the outdoor restaurant Margaret chose for dinner, a neighborhood hangout, music blared through refrigerator-sized speakers stacked one on top of the other. It was difficult to have a conversation. It was uncomfortable sitting around this picnic table, barely able to exchange a word.

But it was easy to see that Margaret adored Georgia, and that Georgia adored her mom. They shared a plate of chicken. And at one point, Georgia snuggled up against her mother, and together they sang along with the music. Margaret and Hugo tried over the music to talk about the adoption. But Georgia soon ran out of food.

Alex Kotlowitz

They strolled to the counter.

Alex Kotlowitz

Georgia's answer unnerved Hugo. It wasn't what he had expected. Especially after only a couple of hours together. Hugo and I assumed that Georgia was mimicking what her mother clearly wanted for her. As close as she and Georgia seemed, she was still planning to send her to live with Sheila in America. Back at the hotel, Hugo and I talked about the evening.

Alex Kotlowitz

The next morning, Georgia, her mother, and her mother's friend Maury, picked us up at the hotel to visit their home. We wound our way along the serpentine roads of Jamaica's interior. It took half an hour to drive the eight miles, past groves of fruit trees, around hairpin turns. Through the center of Brown's Town, a bustling place where men were drinking beer and playing dominoes on the sidewalk. Margaret's house is rather remote, on the far outskirts of the town. We turned on to a rutted dirt road, and then on to another dirt road, which was a slushy brown from yesterday's rains.

We finally pulled up alongside a narrow concrete structure, which had been built into a steep hill. Margaret's home had belonged to her uncle, who had recently died. In places, the concrete is chipped away. Most of the window panes are missing or broken. There's no plumbing. Margaret showed us around.

Alex Kotlowitz

Along one side of the house, Margaret had hung a shower curtain. On a table sat a yellow plastic tub.

Alex Kotlowitz

We quickly realized that her mission for the day was to convince us how poor she was. In order for the adoption with Sheila to go through, one of the things that Margaret has to prove is that she's not able to adequately care for Georgia. She knew Hugo had an important job working with immigrant children. And so she hoped he'd have some influence.

With that in mind, Margaret showed us the front room where she and Georgia shared a bed. She pointed out two sheets of plywood, which covered a hole in the floor. She told us that her grown nephew, grown niece, and her niece's two year old son, stayed in two small rooms off to the side.

She took us into the kitchen, which is barely large enough for their two appliances, a gas stove and a rather small refrigerator. Which is empty, except for a pitcher of water and a brown bag of fruit. There are no sinks or cabinets. When I asked about her bathroom, she nodded to their pit toilet, which sits on a ridge a short walk from the house.

Margaret marched us from room to room with the indifference of a tired museum guide. It was clear that if she hadn't thought it might help Georgia's chances to go to the US, she wouldn't have had us there at all. For our part, it felt voyeuristic. It was, to be honest, terribly awkward. Hugo tried to put everyone at ease. At the back of the house, we walked over to a stone cistern, which collects their drinking water off the house's tin roof.

Alex Kotlowitz

Her nephew had dumped some river perch into the drinking water, which was murky, and which she usually boils before drinking. Hugo and Georgia wandered off to the side of the house.

Alex Kotlowitz

Hugo sat down with Georgia to re-aquaint her with the game of patty cake.

Alex Kotlowitz

As they played, Georgia very quietly brought up Chicago, as she did on the first night. She asked Hugo, if she were to come to America, and the same thing happened as last time, she gets stopped by immigration, would she end up with him?

Alex Kotlowitz

Hugo asked her why she wanted to return to Chicago. Because, she said, I want to see Sagal and [? Bi-wi. ?] Meanwhile, Margaret and I were talking on the front porch. We leaned on the railing overlooking the tropical bush and the dirt road. I asked Margaret why she was so intent on giving Georgia to Sheila.

Alex Kotlowitz

She told me that the local boys, many of whom don't go to school, harass Georgia, often grabbing her by the hand. Margaret also said that she worked as a domestic. But only part-time, because she wanted to be at home each day when George arrived from school.

Alex Kotlowitz

Three more years. The guy on the bus meant that's when Georgia will be old enough to be a mother. Margaret, who's now 39, had her first child at 21. And eventually had six children by four different men. Georgia is her youngest. None of the men stuck around, including Georgia's father, who has disappeared from her life.

When Margaret's oldest turned 16, she informed Margaret that she was pregnant. When Margaret heard that, she cried.

Alex Kotlowitz

She can't walk in my footsteps, Margaret says. Not I hope she doesn't, she can't. Margaret was adamant about that.

Margaret didn't answer. She swatted at the mosquitoes. She stared at the bush on the other side of the road. I wondered if, given her reality, she had by necessity stopped asking herself these questions. All I could think to say to break the long silence was--

As we spent time in Jamaica, it became clear that Georgia's situation was not at all extraordinary. Virtually everyone we met had a similar story to tell. During the drive from Kingston to Runaway Bay, we had told our driver, [? Ollie Forester, ?] about Georgia. And he said that just a few days earlier, a complete stranger had left a five year old boy carrying a backpack full of clothes at the gate to his father's house.

Alex Kotlowitz

[? Ollie's ?] father, a farmer in his 70s, plans to raise this child. Maybe even legally adopt him, if he can find the mother. Then when we visited the Sunflower Hotel, where Margaret and Sheila first met, we encounter the hotel's owner, Vana Taylor. She told us this story of how she came to take in a child seven years ago. The child is now eleven. Vana was at the beach early one morning and saw a mother with her daughter. It was a school day.

Alex Kotlowitz

This is Claudette Pious who works with children in Spanish Town, near Kingston. She says it's actually rare for Jamaican children to be sent to America. Usually it's the parents who go, leaving behind their children with family, friends, or sometimes on their own. It's become so common that there's a name for the kids left behind, barrel children. Because they receive barrels of goods from their parents, mostly name-brand shoes and clothes.

Claudette herself was abandoned. Her mother emigrated to Canada in search of work, and left Claudette behind with an aunt. Claudette told me she never forgave her mother.

Alex Kotlowitz

In her work with children today, Claudette won't take any in. She won't build a shelter. She feels it's too important that they stay with their own families. Her own mother eventually returned to Jamaica when Claudette was an adult.

Alex Kotlowitz

Hugo believes what Claudette does, that if at all possible kids should stay with their parents. And like Claudette, he had had his own experience. Growing up in Peru, his family at one point fell on hard times. His mother had the chance to give him up. An uncle offered to raise him. But she held on to Hugo. It was more important to her, poor or not, that her son be with his mom.

But in the nine years Hugo has been at the children's center, he's begun to understand why parents might let go of their children. He learned it first through the children from India, whose parents had been conned by smugglers into thinking they were sending their children to America to attend great schools and to live with well to-do families. When in fact, the smugglers planned to put them to work at menial jobs. Hugo would occasionally talk by phone with these parents. And the first thing they'd ask about were the schools their children presumably attended.

Alex Kotlowitz

That night at the hotel bar, Georgia sang along to the piano player.

Alex Kotlowitz

Margaret looked on, beaming. It was the one time she seemed completely unburdened. And it was the same with Georgia, as well. Ironically, one of the reason she's doing so well, is Sheila. Who sends $50 to $100 every couple of weeks. She's also paying for Georgia's private school education.

Alex Kotlowitz

We left the next day after stopping by to bring Georgia presents and a cake to celebrate her eighth birthday. As she waits for adults in two countries to figure out her fate, I suppose a hopeful thing is that she's been in the same place before, and came out of it OK. Or so it seemed. What has to be toughest on Georgia though, are all the unknowns. Hugo once told me that the longer he works with children like Georgia, it becomes more complicated, not less. So many of these children, they don't seem to fully belong anywhere.

Ira Glass

Alex Kotlowitz. His most recent book is Never a City So Real. Four years ago when Georgia came to the United States, about 5,000 minors were stopped at US borders and airports. This year, 6,300 are expected. The number of residential centers for them, like the one Hugo runs, has jumped from eight to twenty, in just four years.

Ira Glass

Our program's produced today by Diane Cook and myself, with Alex Blumberg, Wendy Dorr, Jane Feltes, Sarah Koenig, and Lisa Pollak. Our senior producer is Julie Snyder. Elizabeth Meister runs our website. Production help from Todd Bachman and Will [? Reichel ?]. It is Will's last show. He's performed bravely and capably in the face of great adversity, and we are sorry to see him go.

[ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS]

Our website www.thisamericanlife.org, where you can listen to our programs for free. Or you know you can download audio of our show at audible.com/thisamericanlife. Where they have public radio programs, best selling books, even the New York Times, all at audible.com. This American Life is distributed by Public Radio International.

[FUNDING CREDITS]

WBEZ management oversight by Torey Malatia. In the crowded gym locker room, I can report to you, he just repeats this mantra over and over--

Ira Glass

I'm Ira Glass. Back next week with more stories of This American Life.

Announcer

PRI, Public Radio International.