It was yet another beautiful day in Seattle. The sun was bright and sunny, but with winter around the corner, there was a chill in the air making everyone cling to their comfort jackets before stepping out.
While I was contemplating making a cup of warm soup and, in between, charging my phone before tottering into the kitchen, I received the call.
The phone displayed ‘DHS’ (Department of Homeland Security) on the screen and I didn’t want my soup to keep me from the call made from a federal office.
Previously, there were times in my life I vowed not to answer certain calls only because I knew it would maintain peace in my life, but almost always failed because I hate making people wait. But, perhaps, I should listen to myself more often.
This call from the supposed federal officer from the DHS was four hours and a few minutes long. That’s longer than I’ve spent on the phone talking with my husband.
As I think about this eventful incident, I begin to question the confidence I have in my own judgment for such situations. Perhaps, these can be seen as moments for a wakeup call, lessons taught the hard way.
Nevertheless, it is true, the talent for deception can be a powerful tool.
As I recall vividly, the person at the other end of the call made strong opening lines of being a federal officer from the DHS, and for some unknown reason, I was being spoken to as if I am an illegal immigrant.
The words, harsh undertone to each statement, and the assertion were very similar to the kind I had listened to earlier this year when I had attended my interview for the US visa.
As soon as the lady said I had violated a federal offence while being on US soil, there was an unknown urge from inside of me that made me immediately open the laptop and verify the contact number on my phone with the one on the DHS website.
Oh boy, they were good, because the con artists had spoofed the contact number of a federal office and hacked the system of the Department of Homeland Security to use their operator number. (Man, if they are caught, they are in big trouble.)
However, at that very moment, I was convinced that I was on a call with the DHS. My judgment was wrong for the next four hours because I had made up my mind to be obliged to be on call for an interrogation with a bunch of con artists. I’m sure they had a huge laugh when I apologized to the lady for having a terrible reception at my locality. But in my defence, I was on a call with a federal officer, and my mind was being merely respectful.
Apart from the contact number on my phone, I was also taken aback by the information they were verifying with me. It is one thing when spammers like fake insurance companies and telebankers request details such as the social security number and date of birth. Well, those living in the US might not know much about the country’s law, but they do a decent job keeping their personal information personal.
However, when you have a person on the other end, spelling out even the smallest piece of information such as the alien registration number (which only my lawyer, my husband, and the U.S. immigration office know about), the date of birth, personal address, along with the questions and replies I gave at the interview back in India, things get real.
I had more reasons to believe it was the DHS calling out a human error I might have made while filing the papers.
The process of conning began with a caveat, including demanding I maintain absolute discretion. I was asked not to discuss anything with my in-laws or my husband. They claimed that I was not on a dependent visa and that it was my own responsibility to make things right by answering the questions correctly.
From there on, the line of questioning was rather consistent and inching towards a criminal offence from my end, with claims that I made attempts to bluff my way into the US, while on the contrary Albert and I had made sure we followed the rules laid down by the United States of America to the last dot.
However, I also considered the possibility of making a human error in the process for which I repeatedly apologized dearly. (Well, must have been another hearty laugh.)
Yes, they harassed me and bullied me. The con artists made my wonderful future on US soil seem bleak and hopeless, which brings me to my third lesson. In life, I had always thought loneliness is the worst thing that can happen to someone. But I stand corrected, it is helplessness.
With the multiple ways of being interrogated for making a mistake with US law and with immigrants and immigration laws still a threatening reality in this country, I had no choice but to get the problem rectified by myself.
The gang repeatedly quoted the DS-230, the application, that I had filed with the US government, and usage of technical terms from them only made my fears worse.
Two hours into the phone conversation, the lady on the phone asked me to drive down to the nearest USCIS office (U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services) at Tukwila in Seattle.
Meanwhile, I had informed my husband of bits and pieces of the conversation, via WhatsApp web, in spite of getting multiple warnings of breaking the protocol. Honestly, I was under the gun with two options in front of me, either get the papers sorted or go to prison and be deported. (Yup, I believed them because she was reading out from the ‘terms and conditions’ that I had signed back in India. It has my signature on it. Lol, they were good.)
To give another side to the story, it was only a few days back I had received my US driver's licence yet never gone on a solo drive. However, sometimes in life, the prayers we say for our own protection simply start to act at the right time.
With a rosary in my right hand, passport and driver's licence in my left, and my lips tightly shut, I stepped out of my bedroom and stomped my way down in search of my car keys.
A question might pop in the reader’s mind as to why I was being obedient to the lady on the phone, and why I didn’t break the rules, a skill I have mastered over the years. Well, I couldn’t break the rules because she was on the phone with me without hanging up. When the call dropped, they’d call back immediately asking for reasons for dropping the call. They were listening to my every move and conversation. Again, I assert, helplessness is the worst thing that can happen to someone.
As soon as I got into the car, she had asked me to navigate to the USCIS office in Seattle. With Google Maps directing me to Tukwila, I was ready for a good, long and nervous road trip.
But then something happened; a mistake from their end that made all their efforts futile. The mistake that I would refer to as ‘God’s invisible hand.’
On the way, the lady asked me if I have a safety voucher with me; a sort of bail bond for $500. I didn’t have one, didn’t know about one nor where to get one; her last move that went wrong, bringing their house of cards toppling down.
The lady asked me to drive down to the nearest Safeway (a grocery store) and buy a ‘Google Play’ gift card for the same amount.
Having dealt with myriad applications, and written cheques for the visa applications, it only required less than common sense to figure out ‘Google Play’ was meant for entertainment and not immigration purposes.
By then, I had changed my soft-spoken tone, and demanded answers from her; however, all this while I was in the middle of a parking lot of the grocery store.
By then, I had pinged my husband telling him about the Google Play card, in between forcing answers out of the ‘federal officer.’ She had by then spent a lot of time and energy to execute the con and was at the last move when I started questioning her about the need to use an entertainment card for federal purposes.
And truth be told, she didn’t give up. Her last threat was to have me sent to prison for violating a federal offence and recording me under ‘provision 20’ of the US government. By then, Albert had pinged me several times, attempting to reach out to me, to convince me that I am being conned. But what can I say, I am an obedient child and respect this land and its rules.
As I sit down today to key a figment of the mental exhaustion and agony I had gone through, I must say, the strength from within to decide to go to prison instead of making a payment for $500 was perhaps not the boldest decision, but at that moment, I was really tired of an open fight.
By then I was ready for some lone prison time as well. I told the lady I wasn’t making any payment and I prefer prison. She hung up with the last threat saying cops were on the way and would pick me up from where I was.
The only person who picked me up was my husband who by then took an emergency day-off from work and reached where I was. My eyes had welled up with tears, I could barely see him. But I remember running into his arms and crying my heart out.
Perhaps, this was not a testimony of how cruel people can be. But only a record on how situations can break people miserably for the first few moments and then put them together to make one solid human.
Soon afterward, Albert and I made calls to the same number, which were directed to the real DHS office in Washington DC. Apparently, they had received several complaints on the same lines, confirmed that their system was hacked and that the investigation was underway.
After I had discussed the incident with my family, they reiterated that it is unfortunate for the real federal officials who work hard to uphold the value of this nation. But honestly, I wouldn't use the word unfortunate. Perhaps, my gold fish dying is unfortunate. This, however, is downright wrong and unfair to them.
I don’t think this was a life lesson for me, but truth be told, I wouldn’t forget this incident even if I wanted to.
This was originally published on the author's blog.
(The author is a former journalist and lives in the US (Seattle). The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author's and do not necessarily reflect the views of The New Indian Express)