IMMIGRANTS HELD IN FAKE-DRUG CASE AWAIT SPECIAL VICTIM VISAS

Five years ago, crooked drug informants and kilos of crushed billiard
chalk ravaged Jaime Siguenza. He endured a bogus arrest, nearly six
months in jail, deportation, a police corruption trial and lawsuit -
all tied to fake drugs planted on innocent immigrants.

But he still awaits a final act of justice: permission to stay in America.

This month, Mr. Siguenza joined two fellow victims of the 2001 Dallas
fake-drug scandal in line to become some of the first illegal
immigrants in the country to receive special visas for crime victims.

The visas could be issued as early as this summer, the government
said last week, ending years of bureaucratic delays, uncertainty and
legal action.

"If I think too much about it, I can't sleep," Mr. Siguenza said
during a recent interview at his auto sales and repair shop.

"Any time I watch the news, it [reminds me] that I could still be deported."

Congress created the special victim visa category in 2000, but
regulations on how to apply for and issue them were never published.
And none have been handed out, although more than 2,100 immigrants
nationally have been told they can remain in the country for the time being.

Among those are victims of the Dallas fake-drug scandal and their
spouses, including Mr. Siguenza, his wife, Jose Luis Vega, Erubiel
Cruz and Mr. Cruz's wife.

The interim relief allows them to stay in America on a year-by-year
basis until the government begins distributing the visas. The interim
status also allows them to apply for work permits. But it does not
let them travel home to Mexico to visit families.

"It's a very desperate situation," Mr. Vega said.

"Just recently, my mother passed away [in Mexico], and I couldn't go
back because I knew I'd risk everything."

It's a situation facing thousands of immigrant victims of crime
nationally, each having cooperated in government prosecutions or
investigations but now waiting for word of whether it will mean a new
life in America.

"There is a history of sort of benign neglect for applicants with
programs ... to benefit some of the most vulnerable immigrants in the
country," says Peter Schey, president of the Center for Human Rights
and Constitutional Law in Los Angeles.

"If this involved a law giving benefits to million-dollar investors,
my gosh, the [government] would sprint to the finish line to get
regulations out and get the program up and running."

U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services spokesman Bill Strassberger
attributes delays in writing the visa regulations in part to events
after 9/11, including the restructuring of immigration authority
under the Department of Homeland Security.

"It's an unfortunate situation, but at least we've been able to
provide some interim relief to allow people to stay here and work
here until this issue is resolved," Mr. Strassberger said.

He confirmed that officials are working to have regulations in place
by early July, a deadline established when legislation was
reauthorized and signed by President Bush in January.

The visas would let immigrants stay in the U.S. four years and then
apply for permanent residency.

Living in limbo

The Dallas fake-drug victims were exonerated years ago. They won the
public's sympathy and more than $5 million in a lawsuit against the city.

But many remain here illegally, living in limbo.

Mr. Vega says some men he knew were deported or returned home in
recent years. One traveled to Mexico to fight for custody of his
children, knowing he wouldn't be able to come back legally.

The Dallas County district attorney's office is working with federal
officials to get that man back to testify in the upcoming trial of
Mark Delapaz, a former Dallas narcotics officer at the center of the
fake-drug scandal.

Toby Shook, the office's chief of the felony trial division and the
Republican nominee for district attorney, has also supported victims
seeking the protection visas.

"Our investigation showed these individuals were hardworking people
with families, and they had been very cooperative," Mr. Shook said.
"They believed in American ideals, and the bottom line was we
couldn't prosecute the cases without their cooperation."

Mr. Siguenza, for one, remains surrounded by reminders of the
Kafkaesque events that began in 2001 when several kilos of fake
cocaine were planted in a salvage car in the parking lot of his
father's car-repair business. He faced two drug-related charges and
insisted he was innocent but pleaded guilty rather than face prison time.

He was deported to Mexico. A later analysis showed only trace amounts
of drugs in the vehicle. He sneaked back in the country, cooperated
with the government prosecutions and rebuilt a life as a car salesman
and mechanic.

Then last month he returned to a Dallas courthouse to get paperwork
needed for his visa application, only to find one of the drug charges
remained on his record.

"They wanted to arrest me," he said.

Upon realizing the mistake, the district attorney's office quickly
filed a new motion to dismiss the charge. Officials say a judge had
failed to sign the original motion to dismiss years ago.

"I think once we get the visa ... I think that's what I feel they owe
us," Mr. Siguenza said.

Afraid to apply

George Rodriguez, the immigration attorney for many of the fake-drug
victims, says some remain afraid to apply for the visa given the risk
of deportation if they are denied.

"They've been burned pretty bad," he said. "They're not that trusting
of the system."

The system was originally intended to get victims out of the shadows
and help law enforcement prosecute criminals.

In fiscal 2005, 1,626 immigrant victims of crime applied for the
visas. This year, more than 1,400 have applied. The original
legislation allowed for as many as 10,000 visas per year.

Regulations for a similar visa for victims of human trafficking,
created under the same law, were issued in 2002.

Yolanda Eisenstein, legal director of the Dallas-based Human Rights
Initiative, says some immigration advocates have refused to submit
applications for clients until final regulations are published.

"People who are here who are [here illegally] are very reluctant to
go to the police when bad things happen. If you can help alleviate
that fear, then it's a win-win situation," she said. "The person who
has been a victim gets some relief ... and they help law enforcement
and prosecutors investigate these crimes."

For Mr. Cruz, the stakes are personal. He was in jail for a crime he
did not commit during his son's wedding in Mexico. He has never met
his daughter-in-law or two granddaughters. He hasn't seen the son in 12 years.

He is still here illegally and lives with the fear of deportation
even as he prepares to help the government in Mr. Delapaz's trial.

"Now thank God they're finally responding to us," he said of the visa process.

"Despite the injustice that happened to me, I still feel strong about
the opportunities this country offers."