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Attorney General at the BorderFacebooktwittergoogle_pluslinkedinmail

Astride a beautiful large gray horse and wearing an elegant suit gray as Robert E. Lee’s uniform, Jefferson Beauregard Sessions patrols the border, looking for intruders. I pity his prey. Sessions appears warrior enough to slay any foe.

In each hand I wave a white paper overhead and shout, “Don’t shoot, sir. I just want to ask a few questions.”

“Are you a U.S. citizen?”

“Of course,” I say, retrieving my blue passport from a front pocket of my pants.

“Is it legitimate or did you get it from a dirty immigration lawyer?”

“I’ve got just as much Anglo Saxon blood as you, sir.”

“Very well. What do you want?”

“Is it true our government is separating parents from children at our southern border?”

Sessions points an index finger down at me, drilling my nose, and says, “We aren’t separating children from parents, we’re liberating them from criminals who’ve tried to illegally enter the United States.”

“But the parents are going into custody and the kids are either sent to relatives or, if none are available, into social services.”

“We take a lot better care of kids in facilities and foster homes than parents who smuggle children. People must obey our laws. What do you think the Mexicans do to illegal aliens? They’re a lot tougher than we are.”

I pause and examine Sessions who as a young man had a sweet face and sort of still does.

“Nations need laws,” he says. “Like President Trump often reminds everyone, ‘We either have a nation or we don’t.’”

“We’ve got a great nation, sir. That’s why millions want to come and live here.”

“Hundreds of millions, and none of them can come here unless they do it legally, like my ancestors did.”

“Are you sure your ancestors had immigration documents before sailing from Europe?”

“I don’t know all the details but I know they came here legally.”

I point at the border a few yards to our south, and say, “Many are trying to come here legally. They aren’t avoiding official ports of entry. They’re going right to them. And many say they’re turned back. U.S. officials tell them they don’t have room to house them.”

“That’s a lie,” Sessions says, again drilling my nose with a martial finger. “Those who come to official ports of entry are taken into custody and treated very well. We try to adjudicate their cases fast as we can. You bleeding hearts have got to accept the truth. Most people coming in are sneaking in.”

“Let’s concede that’s true.”

“It is true.”

“Okay,” I say. “But what about a couple of thousand kids currently separated from parents who are in detention?”

“Like I told you, the kids are being well taken care of. And we’ll find most of their parents, and they’ll be happy to return home together.”

“Home is why they need asylum, which is their right under international law. Home is places like Honduras and El Salvador where they have the two highest murder rates in the world.”

“You’re making my point, son,” says Sessions. “We don’t want those kinds of folks in our nations of laws.”

“Do you think your attitude may have been formed by your Southern heritage?”

“No sir. Folks all over agree with me. The president’s from New York, you know.”

Digging spurs into each side of his horse, Jeff Sessions shouts, “Giddy-up, Traveller.”

“King Donald” by George Thomas Clark

This entry was posted in Central America, Donald Trump, El Salvador, Honduras, Immigration, Jeff Sessions, Robert E. Lee.