It has been close to a year since this happened, but I found some of the letters that I sent to a few lawyers regarding my and Solange’s experience with the American Consulate. After the event, I sent this letter to several lawyers for help. No help was forthcoming, although their fees were growing. I finally ignored all of the lawyers advice and got Solange a tourist visa on my own.
September 11, 2006
A Day I’ll Never Forget
It all started in July 2006. I was with some friends in Sao Paulo, Brazil, and I wound up in the hospital in a coma. I had a severely broken arm, pneumonia, a concussion, amnesia, and I could no longer talk. Stranger yet, no one knew how all of this happened. My mother and my brother flew down from the United States to bring me back to the US. Once I returned, I gradually recovered but I realized that my recuperation would be a long one. I believed that I needed my fiancée with me immediately. I met Carol Armstrong from Senator Elizabeth Dole’s office and she tried to help me get Solange (my fiancée) an emergency visa. After two weeks of wrangling with the American Consulate, she was rudely denied.
I decided to return to the Brazil. This was not an easy decision because I would rather talk to doctors that speak English, but on the other hand, I needed someone to take care of me as I recovered. Plus I missed Solange. So I returned back to Brazil and on August 30th, and Solange and I married in a small civil ceremony in Rio de Janeiro.
All along, I had been talking to Carol Armstrong about the next steps to get Solange a visa to enter the United States. In addition, a friend of mine works for a huge law firm called Holland and Knight, and he began giving me advice. The advice was the same. The quickest route was to work with the American Consulate in Brazil, and to convince them that I live in Brazil.
I called the consulate and scheduled an appointment for September 11, and Solange and I got to work. We began compiling all of my financial records as evidence of how much money I was spending in Brazil. We created a history of every telephone call and telephone number I had called and received from my Brazilian telephone numbers. We had the deed to my apartment and of course my passport. In addition, we filled out the forms for the green card process. Solange also took all of the medical exams necessary for entrance into the United States. We worked for two solid weeks to get everything done,. we had filled out all of the forms perfectly, and put together an open-and-shut case that proved that I live in Brazil.
Despite all of the preparation, we woke on September 11, 2006 with nervous anticipation. It was a beautiful sunny day, which we both hoped was a good omen of things to happen. We jumped into a taxi and the cabby was half asleep. He got lost and kept falling asleep at the wheel. Although we left with tons of time to spare, Solange was becoming nervous that we would be late for the appointment. Fortunately, the driver woke up and we arrived at 1 pm on the dot.
We got to the front of the line, and we quickly gave the embassy guard our names. She looked through her list three or four times, and said “You don’t have an appointment today.” I told her (in Portuguese) that it was impossible that I could mistake September 11 for some other day. I asked whether there was someone to whom I could complain. She looked at me apologetically but she still said no.
We were thunder struck. After all the work, all the planning, the problems with my health, and now we couldn’t even talk to the Consulate. The guard suggested that we call the Consulate on a pay phone. The Consulate has a rule that you cannot enter the Consulate without an appointment, and you cannot make an appointment at the Consulate. So I bought a a 45 minute payphone card for and called the Consulate. I had been through this drill many times, and the wait times were sometimes close to an hour, and I was nervous that we would run out credits on the pay phone. After 30 minutes, thankfully, someone picked up.
The woman explained that I had made a mistake and that I had scheduled the interview for September 8th. I politely explained to her that it was impossible that I would mistake September 11th for some other day. And she politely explained that I was wrong, and that perhaps we could reschedule for a week for now. I was getting mad now, and I explained that I was standing at a pay phone outside of the Consulate and this was not my fault and they should let me in. She put me on hold, and with 5 minutes of credits left, they allowed us to enter the Consulate.
Once we were in the waiting area, our wait was fairly short. We both nervously entered the interview room and closed the door. Our interviewer was blonde, heavy set, tall and with a blue blouse and skirt. Solange guesses her age to be about 35 years old. She asked whether we would prefer to interview in English or Portuguese, and I said English although in less than 30 seconds the interview switched to Portuguese because it was clear that she could not speak English. It certainly made it more difficult for me because she spoke Portuguese very quickly but I was holding my own.
During the interview process, she asked what type of visa I had. I responded that I had a tourist visa but I really lived in Rio de Janeiro. During the entire interview, I tried to have a calm and even tone. She did not. At this point, she went ballistic, and starting yelling at me. She started calling me names including a criminal, stating that I was in Brazil illegally. Although I felt this was not true, I chose not to argue with her, and calmly and slowly tried to show her the reports that we had compiled. This just made matters worse. Each piece of paper I showed just made her angrier. She was so agitated that the security guard came by to see what was happening. I said many times “Stop yelling at me”, and “Please let me talk for a second.” She did not heed either request, and continued to yell and interrupt.
As a last measure, I tried to explain my health problems and how I felt that it would be best if my wife and I could return to the United States. At this point, she was totally disgusted with me and said “That’s your problem not mine.” At that point, she stood up and left.
We both left the interview room shaken. My head was reeling from all the verbal abuse. My gut was stinging from the fact that I chose to repress my feelings to yell back at her. To be clear, at no time did I raise my voice, and never did I provoke her. To be honest, we have no idea why she was so agitated at us. It all seemed like such a waste. We had spent weeks compiling documents and she didn’t look at any of them.
I was ready to go but Solange said that we should stay. At one point, the crazy lady, also known as our interviewer, was yelling that we should see the consulario. I had no idea what this meant, but apparently, it meant that after her verbal thrashing, we would talk to her boss. We waited about an hour, and then our name was paged and we were brought to a different interview room.
The next lady had black hair, petite, and slightly older, let’s say late 40’s and early 50’s. She sat down, and immediately was more pleasant than the yelling woman. She spoke perfect English, and it was clear that she was an American. I did not revisit our prior ugly experience, and chose to focus on the facts related to Solange’s visa application. She listened but explained that it was illegal for her to accept my application. I told her that I had discussed my situation with more than one lawyer in the US and they did not believe it was illegal. Of course, that was a big mistake and put her on the defensive. To her credit, at one point, she left the interview room, and later returned. She then reiterated that it was illegal, and said that I needed to go through the United States Department of Homeland Security. Although she still said No, at least she was not belligerent.
I am writing this a little over three weeks after this horrible day occurred. I am still in Brazil and still hoping that somehow Solange can learn about the United States before we make some of the larger decisions in our lives. A lot of the bitterness and emotion of that day has passed, but there are still two nagging questions in my mind.
1. When we were returning in the taxi from our day of horror, Solange told me that she was treated the same way during her first interview in August. Yelling and lecturing. I fully realize that there are times when our consulate has to say no. That is part of their jobs. However, it serves no purpose to be rude and antagonistic.
2. Perhaps the crux of this issue is who is right? I went to the Consulate based on the advice of more than one lawyer. If the Consulate believed I was under their jurisdiction, they could help me. The American Consulate felt that helping me was illegal. Frankly, it does not make sense that my request is illegal. I am an American citizen needing help. Either way, I believe the government should clear up the confusion, so others can avoid my horrible experience.
