LAW WITHOUT MERCY

Rep. Bill McCollum (R-Fla.) does not present himself as a man of
self-doubts or second thoughts. On his Web site, he informs us that he "is
considered the House of Representatives' foremost authority on crime." He
has relentlessly pursued the president as a House impeachment manager. He
has pushed resolutely for tougher crime and immigration laws.

So it's interesting to see McCollum, who represents Orlando and surrounding
territory, pleading the case of a drug-using, check-kiting, parole-busting
immigrant from Canada.

The immigrant was ordered deported under tough legislation McCollum backed
in 1995 and 1996 that aimed to deport immigrants as quickly as possible,
even for minor offenses. But this one deserves a break, McCollum says. And
the fact that the immigrant's father is a Republican county treasurer in
the congressman's district has nothing to do with his decision. "I feel
great sympathy for his family's struggles," McCollum said on the House
floor last month, introducing a "private bill" that was first reported on
by the St. Petersburg Times.

Now, it would be easy to knock McCollum for hypocrisy, given that hundreds
of immigrants with more compelling cases and fewer resources are being
deported thanks to laws McCollum backed. It would be easy to dig up past
statements ("By removing from our society those aliens who do not respect
our laws, we make our streets safer for citizens and noncitizens alike")
and to question why, if political connections were irrelevant, this is the
only such bill McCollum has filed.

But McCollum told me he believes that the 1996 bill was, in key respects,
"too harsh" -- and that he will submit legislation to correct some of its
unfairness. If that hints at a change of mood in Congress, then a major
injustice may be corrected.

"It was pretty clear in 1996 that there were going to be a lot of terrible,
sad stories -- a lot of American families being torn up by this," says
Carol Wolchok, an immigration expert at the American Bar Association. Those
to be affected were not illegal immigrants but lawful permanent residents
of the United States who in many cases had lived here virtually all their
lives.

Congress first widened the definition of deportable crimes from murder,
rape and drug trafficking to encompass minor theft, possession of small
quantities of drugs and other offenses punishable by a year in jail. Then
Congress removed judicial discretion. Whereas before an immigration judge
or the attorney general could weigh many factors, including someone's
rehabilitation, now there are no waivers and no mercy.

Finally, Congress made it all retroactive. The result: People who had been
living peaceably in this country for decades, their long-ago offenses
well-known and honestly disclosed to immigration authorities, suddenly
became illegal, subject to mandatory detention and deportation.
Unsuspecting legal immigrants in some cases showed up to apply for
citizenship, only to be carted off to jail.

Gabriella Dee, 34, had tried in 1984 to smuggle her Israeli boyfriend from
her Canada home into the United States. She was caught, fined $25 and
released. In subsequent years, she was granted U.S. student visas and work
visas, having disclosed her past arrest. She married an American and became
stepmother to his children. She won prizes and plaudits for her work as a
college biology teacher, as the Morning Call of Allentown, Pa., recounted
in a profile last year. But when she applied for permanent resident status,
not knowing the rules had changed, she was put on the deportation list.

Ralph Richardson's mistake, at age 33, was to visit Haiti for the first
time since he had left that country at age 2. Upon his return, he was
detained at the airport because of a drug conviction nine years ago. He has
been in detention for 16 months, with no right to post bond, according to
his lawyer, Ira Kurzban, though he is married to an American, has three
young children and has -- had -- a small office-cleaning business in Atlanta.

Across the country, there are hundreds, probably thousands of such stories.
A Vietnamese immigrant with an American husband and young American children
faces deportation for forging a check nine years ago. A Texas kitchen
installer who won his case in 1993 now faces deportation because the
government's appeal was delayed for four years -- by which time new rules
applied. McCollum's constituent is just one more: a sad story of a kid on
drugs, according to the congressman, who hurt no one but himself and his
parents and wants another chance with his 2-year-old American son.

Doris Meissner, commissioner of the Immigration and Naturalization Service,
says that 90 percent of the 160,000 people deported last year were illegal
aliens, and that many of the rest are serious criminals who don't deserve
to stay. But among the 16,000 legal residents deported, she says, are "some
very sympathetic cases."

It was an insupportable accumulation in past years of "private bills" like
McCollum's that originally prompted Congress to give the executive branch
some discretion. In 1996 the Republicans complained that that discretion
had been abused. Their remedy "went too far," Meissner says.

Now the administration supports "a very limited waiver authority, with very
clear criteria," Meissner says. Sen. Daniel Patrick Moynihan already has
introduced such a bill.

Will anything pass this year? Meissner says she isn't sure. It may take
some time, she says, for the pendulum to swing back, as private bills again
accumulate, pressures build and evidence of unfairness mounts. "In the
meantime," she says, "a lot of people are being unnecessarily hurt."