Finding refuge: Honduran man wins asylum to stay in New London

Jan. 14—NEW LONDON — Palms sweating, Saul Torres Amador knelt in a pew at St. Mary's Star of the Sea Catholic Church at 8 a.m. on Dec. 5, 2022, and prayed.

For three years, Amador had spent everyday wondering, "Will I get to stay in the United States or get deported back to Honduras?"

Later that day Amador sat in front of a video call, waiting nervously to hear his prayers answered as a Spanish-speaking translator told him he had won his asylum case to stay.

His life would no longer be at risk because of his political ideals.

Winning the case was no small feat, requiring piles of paperwork, proof of being a refugee, thousands of dollars and extensive legal guidance from Waterford attorney Marcy Levine-Acevedo.

"Typically about less than 20% of asylum cases are granted, the statistics varying by judge," Levine-Acevedo said. "Winning an asylum case is not easy; we don't experience it enough. When you do win, it's huge."

Less than 26,000 migrants were granted asylum in the U.S. in the 2022 fiscal year while the backlog for U.S. asylum cases is nearing 1.6 million due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

Political discord

Amador, 28, grew up in Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras. He left his home country in 2019, leaving behind his mother and three younger siblings, and arrived to the U.S. seeking political asylum.

Amador started as a political organizer and youth leader ten years ago in support of the National Party of Honduras. His older brother, killed in 2016, was involved back then and egged him to join.

"When someone is young, they'll tell you if the party wins, we'll help you find a good job," he said. "The party won but I never got a good job."

The National Party, a conservative political party, rose to power after the 2009 coup d'etat and ousting of President Manuel Zelaya, a Liberal Party leader. Following the coup, the National Party faced contention with the left-wing political party Liberty and Refoundation, better known as Libre, which was founded in 2011.

Political discord between the parties only escalated when former President Juan Orlando Hernández of the National Party, a public stickler against drug crime, was said to have ties to drug-trafficking organizations.

Hernandez, once a close ally of the United States, faces a trial this year in New York, being charged with conspiracy to import cocaine to the U.S.

Amador said he was unaware the former president was involved in drug-trafficking. He said a lot of violence took place between the two opposing political parties, the National Party and Libre.

Peaceful protests as well as burnings and lootings ensued in 2018 and 2019 calling for better social conditions and Hernandez's resignation.

Amador said he and members of his party were planning to do a march for peace before he was kidnapped and tortured in May 2019 by members of the opposing party. He said they wore red shirts with the Libre logo, their faces covered, and asked him why he supported the "Narco-president." He told them he no longer supported Hernandez and said he intended to do a march for peace. He said this angered them and they cut him three times.

He has a visible scar on his left leg that was once a bloody gash.

Fleeing family and country

Amador said they intended to kill him but he sought help after he was left alone and taken to the hospital. He didn't return home to his family out of fear and waited in a hotel for 15 days until a friend could help him move.

At the time, Amador was the manager of a small casino in Tegucigalpa and had a Mexican visa. He gathered what money he had left saved and decided he could no longer stay in his home country.

He spent five days traveling by bus and taxi until he drew near to the U.S. border. He crossed the Rio Grande at night from Reynosa, Mexico to McAllen, Texas. He was alone and spent 24 hours without food.

Amador arrived to the U.S. on Aug. 12, 2019 and walked alongside the roads until someone stopped and drove him to immigration. Once detained, Amador reached out to his family and Javier Padilla, a family friend from Honduras who lived in New London, and asked for his help to file his case for asylum.

Amador was sent to a detention center in Dallas for four months. He was in a large room with bunk beds, each bed numbered up to 100, and got to go outside once a week. Phone calls cost $10 a minute so he was unable to call his family.

Amador was ultimately released on parole on a $10,000 bond. He had no money at this point, so his friend Padilla paid for half and Community Bonds in New Haven granted them the other half.

Padilla also reached out to The First Congregational Church of Old Lyme and it helped pay for a plane ticket for Amador to come to Connecticut.

Pastor Steve Jungkeit said the church began addressing immigration issues over the last few years when there was a "greater cruelty" towards migrants.

The church has served as a sanctuary for families that were threatened with deportation, operates a refugee resettlement program with the state and two other churches in Old Lyme. The church has vouched a few times for people like Saul who have been detained after entering the U.S. fleeing violence and are not legally "caught up in the mechanisms of the immigration system," Jungkeit said.

He said the church's congregation has been generous in funding all their endeavors.

"At the heart of our traditions and most traditions is providing hospitality for the stranger living in our midst," Jungkeit said. "Anytime you see anyone in need... you see Jesus and the way you treat them is the way you treat Jesus and God."

Immigration court

It was only a matter of time after Amador's release until the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement filed his case to deport him with immigration court. Once the paperwork was filed, Amador's removal proceedings began. In proceedings, migrants can challenge their removal.

Levine-Acevedo said some people don't have the means to challenge and some, like Amador, apply for asylum. She said while these cases typically last five to seven years, Amador was given a trial date within three years.

Since Amador filed for asylum while in detention, within a month of release he had permission to work and started doing painting jobs and landscaping with help from the church.

"I'm really grateful for all that they have done for me," Amador said.

He reached out to Levine-Acevedo for help in his asylum case in 2020.

Well-founded fear

Levine-Acevedo said to qualify for asylum, a migrant has to prove they are a refugee and within their country of nationality, prove they have suffered persecution in the past or have a well-founded fear they will suffer persecution on the account of one of five grounds ― race, religion, nationality, political opinion or being part of a social group.

She said they also had to prove that his country was unwilling or unable to protect him.

Levine-Acevedo said they were able to show past and well-founded future persecution in Amador's case, especially now that the opposition is in power in Honduras.

Amador had newspaper clips, photos of when he was in the hospital and took part in an interview to show he had a fear going back. There were also letters attesting to his character and many other documents. To make the case even stronger, Levine-Acevedo said they reached out to a professor and expert at Trinity College in Hartford for a report on Honduran politics and history as well as his opinion of Amador's case.

The report alone cost $2,000. Although Amador had started working, he did not have the money to pay for the report. Levine-Acevedo reached out to The First Congregational Church of Old Lyme on his behalf and the church, aware of Amador's situation, donated the money.

"Whether it's likely to win or lose, I am always honest with people about my perspective of their case, and if they still choose to proceed then I will put up a fight," Levine-Acevedo said.

Levine-Acevedo is a crime and immigration lawyer in Waterford. She said her practice has turned largely to immigration in recent years, being the only one in the area who speaks Spanish. While Spanish is not her first language, she said she has learned a great deal from her husband who is Ecuadorian and by traveling to places in South America.

Levine-Acevedo said she is afraid if she turns people with similar cases away, they will potentially be scammed. She said people commonly turn to notaries who are unlicensed and do legal work, signing documents they don't understand, placing migrants at risk.

She said she has seen a number of Haitians, Peruvians and Ecuadorians apply for asylum over the past year.

Fateful 15 minutes

Levine-Acevedo said she cried when on Dec. 5, the day of Amador's trial, the judge said he intended to approve the case and the prosecutor said they weren't going to fight it.

And it happened all within 15 minutes.

Amador was waiting nervously, unable to say a word until the translator told him what was going on, and then he began to cry and hugged Levine-Acevedo. He still remembers how the judge welcomed him to the U.S. and the rest of his future.

"I felt a weight come off my shoulder and at once felt safe," he said.

Amador and his friend Padilla were able to start a landscaping business, Blooming Gardens LLC, registering with the state, in 2021. He is living in New London and said he pays his taxes.

Now he awaits a year to apply for his permanent residency. In the meantime, Amador said he'll work and continue growing his business.

He said he hopes to one day be reunited with his family and wants to apply to bring them here once he's a citizen.

"I'm all alone here," he said.

j.vazquez@theday.com