AT HOME ABROAD

THE PRICE OF HARSHNESS

The Immigration and Naturalization Service took Cyrus Atefi into
custody one year ago for deportation to Iran. I wrote about his case
in February, thinking that he would surely be free soon. But he
remains locked up: a testament to the harshness of the 1996
Immigration Act.

Mr. Atefi was eight months old when he came to this country from Iran
with his family in 1978. His father had been an official of Savak, the
Shah's intelligence agency, and they were given political asylum. His
uncle stayed behind and was tortured and executed by the Islamic regime.

As a teenager, after his parents were divorced, Mr. Atefi went wrong.
He bought some methamphetamines for himself and four friends and was
convicted in the California courts of possessing the drugs for sale.
He was given a year on work furlough, the lowest possible sentence,
and was released after six months.

He started to put his life back together. But then came a mischance
that could have come out of fiction. His probation order forbade him
to have a cellular telephone -- but he bought one for his mother and
kept the box. The box was found in his apartment, and he was picked up
and charged with violating probation.

In the end the California courts did nothing about that; he was
continued on probation. But because his parole officer was on
vacation, he was not released until Oct. 21, 1998. That was 10 days
after the 1996 Immigration Act made it mandatory to detain aliens whom
the I.N.S. decides to try to deport.

The 1996 law calls for deportation of any alien convicted of an
"aggravated felony." It defines that term extremely broadly. Mr.
Atefi's drug offense, though the California courts treated it lightly
and he served only six months, was an aggravated felony.

When the case came before an immigration judge, he ordered deportation
to Iran deferred because of the likelihood that Mr. Atefi would be
tortured there. The I.N.S. accepted that order, not appealing. But the
judge refused to impose the permanent bar sought by Mr. Atefi's
lawyer, withholding of deportation, and he appealed that to the Board
of Immigration Appeals. The issue has not yet been decided there.

Mr. Atefi has been held in an I.N.S. detention center in El Centro,
Calif. His mother, who lives in San Diego, drove two hours to visit
him there every Sunday.

But late in the evening of Oct. 22 he was taken from his cell to a
room where he and 24 other detainees slept on the floor. The next day
he was taken by bus, in chains, to Yuma, Ariz., and from there by
plane to the Yakima County Jail in Washington State. I arranged for
him to telephone me collect from there.

"I know the I.N.S. is running out of room," Mr. Atefi said. "But the
convicted criminals here at least have a release date. There's a
23-hour lockdown, and we have nothing to do.

"I telephoned my mother. It was really horrible -- traumatic. At least
in El Centro she could see me."

Talking with Mr. Atefi was strange. He sounds wholly American, which
is not surprising considering that he has lived here all but eight
months of his 22 years. He was restrained, well spoken. The thought of
his being deported, to Iran or anywhere, was odd. His mother, sister
and brother have all become U.S. citizens. He has used his time in
detention to take courses for his high school diploma. His behavior
has been praised.

When I asked I.N.S. officials in Washington why Mr. Atefi had been
moved to the Yakima County Jail, they responded sympathetically. They
ordered him returned to El Centro today.

But the I.N.S. has been unbending in the face of appeals to release
him on bond. Its lawyers say they have no discretion to do so under
the 1996 act. His detention will not be reviewed, they say, until the
Board of Immigration Appeals acts on the case.

The 1996 immigration law, with its accordion-like definition of
"aggravated felony," requires the deportation of people who have
overcome mistakes and are ready to contribute to this country. In
making their detention mandatory it substitutes iron rigidity for the
rule of reason. By such harsh treatment of immigrants we citizens
demean ourselves.