Omar Vasquez: An American Veteran’s Deportation Nightmare

GROFF MEDIA 2024© TRUTH ENDURES IMDBPRO

Presented by benandsteve.com By: Benjamin Groff II©s

2–4 minutes

SENT BACK – OMAR’S STORY

(Fictional)

Omar Vasquez had never questioned his place in the United States. He was born in El Paso, Texas, to parents who traced their lineage back generations. His grandfather had fought in World War II. His father served in Vietnam. Omar himself had completed two tours in Iraq as a U.S. Marine. He had a college degree, a steady job, and a home he had just finished paying off.

But none of that mattered the day he was taken.

It happened suddenly, in the middle of an ordinary afternoon. Omar had just stepped out of a coffee shop when unmarked black SUVs screeched to a stop around him. Before he reacted, he was surrounded by men in tactical gear barking orders. Confused, he reached for his wallet to show his ID, but they were already on him. They forced his hands behind his back, zip-tied his wrists, and shoved him into a waiting vehicle. People on the sidewalk froze, watching in stunned silence.

“You got the wrong guy!”

He shouted.

“I’m a U.S. citizen! I was born here!”

His words went unheard.

Inside the detention center, the reality of his situation set in. The holding cells were packed with others—some looking just as confused as he was, others resigned to their fate. He saw fear in their eyes, exhaustion from what must have been days or weeks of uncertainty.

Guards ignored his questions, his demands for a phone call, and his requests to see an attorney. When he finally managed to speak with someone, they told him flatly:

“You’re undocumented. You are being processed for deportation.”

Omar laughed in disbelief.

“You’re joking, right? Check my records. My Social Security number. My military service. Call my family.”

The officer barely looked at him.

“If your family wants to go with you, they can do so. Otherwise, you’ll be deported alone.”

He was handed a packet of papers to sign. The papers were written in Spanish, a language he barely understood beyond a few pleasantries.

“I don’t speak Spanish. I only speak English,”

He said.

The officer raised an eyebrow.

“Sure you do.”

His family arrived with documents. They brought his birth certificate, his passport, his military discharge papers, and even photos of him in uniform. They pleaded, demanded, and argued, but every official they encountered dismissed them, saying the decision had been made.

“Mistakes happen,”

One agent told his mother.

“And mistakes can be corrected. But in this case, the process has already started. You can contest it from the other side.”

“The other side?”

His mother gasped.

“He has no other side. This is his home!”

His father, a quiet man who had seen combat and never flinched, broke down in helpless tears.

Despite everything, Omar was put on a plane.

Destination: Guatemala. It was a country he had never set foot in. He knew no one there. He didn’t speak the language. As the plane lifted, he looked out the window at the land he had fought for. This was the country he had called home his entire life. He wondered how many others had disappeared into this system. They were erased by the stroke of a bureaucratic pen. Their American identity was stripped away by nothing more than suspicion.

How many would ever make it back?

Ramone’s Lonely Adventure: A Tale of Discovery

GROFF MEDIA 2024© TRUTH ENDURES IMDBPRO

Presented by benandsteve.com By: Benjamin Groff II©s

4–6 minutes

Ramone was not supposed to go to town without his older siblings. Nonetheless, he felt he had to on this day. He had awoken without finding anyone in his home. The house was empty. The animals had disappeared. Even the dogs were not there. They typically stayed at home when everyone had to go to work. 

Ramone was alone. There was no reason he knew of for this. The boy had woken up in a strange place. He was stuffed under a bed and pushed between a bed and the wall. He thought he must’ve had a dream and wandered there. Why else would he be in such a place? Ramone was never left alone and was beginning to worry something terrible had happened.

Ramone crawled out from under the bed, his heart thumping in his tiny chest. He rubbed his sleepy eyes, trying to make sense of the eerie silence around him. The morning light poured through the cracked window. Yet, the house felt different. It was empty and hollow as if no one had been there for a long time.

He ran to the kitchen. He expected to see his mother at the stove. He also thought his older sister would scold him for being late for breakfast. Instead, the table was bare. There was no food, no dishes, nothing. He called out, his voice small against the stillness.

“Mamá?”

No answer.

He hurried outside, stepping onto the dusty ground with bare feet. The corral was empty. The goats, the chickens—gone. Even the dogs that always lounged in the shade were missing—a lump formed in his throat. Something was wrong.

Ramone had often been told not to go to town alone, but fear overpowered any thoughts of disobedience. If his family wasn’t home, maybe they had gone to town for help. He had to find them.

He slipped on his too-big sandals and started down the narrow dirt path that led to town. The sun was climbing higher, and the heat pressed against his small frame. The closer he got to town, the more his stomach twisted.

Something felt –– off.

When he reached the outskirts, he stopped. The usual chatter of morning markets and passing cars was missing. The streets were strangely quiet. Shops stood open, but no one was inside. Tables were set with half-eaten meals as if people had left in the middle of breakfast.

His breath came in quick gasps. His family wasn’t there.

No one was.

Ramone was alone in an empty town.

And then, a sound broke the silence from somewhere down the street—soft, slow footsteps echoing against the abandoned buildings.

Someone was coming. The footsteps became louder. It became clear that a cart being pulled by a donkey was coming around the corner. But there wasn’t a person with it.

Ramone’s heart pounded in his chest. The cart rattled onward, its wooden wheels creaking against the empty street. The donkey plodded ahead, its ears flicking as if listening for a command that would never come.

But there was no driver.

Ramone took a step back, his tiny hands trembling. His words from the day before echoed in his mind. He yelled words after getting into trouble for mischief that had found its way into his life.

“I wish I was the only person in the world!”

Had he wished for this? Had his anger somehow made it real?

His legs felt heavy as if the ground itself wanted to pull him down. He turned in circles, hoping—praying—to see someone step out of a doorway or call his name. But no one did.

Tears welled in his eyes. He hadn’t meant it. He didn’t want to be alone.

The cart rolled past him, and the donkey’s slow, steady steps were the only sound in the world.

Ramone squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head.

“Wake up, wake up!” 

He whispered, pressing his fists against his temples. 

“This has to be a dream.”

He forced his eyes open.

The town was still empty.

He ran, his sandals slapping against the dusty road. He ran past the silent market. He ran past the still houses. He passed the church where the bells should have been ringing. But they weren’t ringing.

And then—he saw his home.

It looked just as he had left it. The door was slightly open, swaying in the wind.

He rushed inside, desperate. 

“Mamá!”

he cried.

“Papá! Anybody!”

Silence.

Ramone stumbled into his room, his breath coming in sharp gasps. The bed was there. The blankets were rumpled as if someone had pushed them aside in the middle of the night.

His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the mattress. He curled up, his tiny body shaking.

“I take it back,” 

He whispered into the fabric. 

“I don’t want to be alone. I want my mamá. My papá. My sisters. Please…”

The weight of exhaustion pressed down on him, his eyelids growing heavy. The room began to spin, the world around him fading into darkness.

Then—

A voice.

Soft. Familiar.

“Ramone? Mijo, wake up.”

His eyes fluttered open.

The morning light streamed in. Ramone’s mamá stood over him, her warm hand brushing his forehead. From the kitchen, he heard his sisters laughing, the clatter of dishes, and the barking of the dogs outside.

His heart leaped.

It was just a dream.

It was a terrible, lonely dream.

Ramone threw his arms around his mamá, holding onto her tightly.

She chuckled, stroking his hair. 

“What’s gotten into you, mi niño?”

Ramone didn’t answer. He just held on, knowing that, no matter what, he would never wish to be alone again.