On November 24, 2025, we arrived at 26 Federal Plaza for Alan’s long-awaited green card interview. Accompanied by a Middle Church pastor, we carried around a meticulously organized three-inch binder containing all the immigration documents my husband had collected since arriving in the United States from the Cayman Islands in 2013. It contained hundreds of photographs documenting our marriage and letters from family, friends, and the community confirming the validity of our marriage.
Nearly a year into President Donald Trump’s inauguration, the political climate surrounding immigration has become frightening. Stories of immigrant detention by ICE flooded the news and social media feeds. We were nervous but confident. We were doing everything right.
This time I kept the colors toned down. I wore chocolate brown. My husband was wearing charcoal. At the check-in counter, a woman smiled and told us we were handsome. She has been a blessing to us. We sat and waited.
The room was cold. The employee behind the counter was wearing a scarf. One by one, the family was called through the door leading to the back. When our number was called, my husband, pastor, and I approached but were stopped. The policeman asked for our documents. We proudly introduced our binders.
She scoffed and refused to accept it.
We were instructed to dismantle weeks of careful organization and hand over disparate documents in its place. I immediately felt something was wrong. After waiting another 45 minutes, the officer returned. We gave her the dismantled papers and expected her to proceed. Instead she asked who would accompany us. When we introduced the pastor, he refused to participate in an interview, even though other family members were accompanied by loved ones. The supervisor acknowledged that it was at the discretion of the officer, the officer who disliked our binder.
The pastor hugged us and promised to wait.
We were instructed not to sit next to each other in the office. My husband was sitting at the policeman’s desk. I was placed against the wall.
The interrogation has begun.
When I nervously looked at my husband while explaining how we met, the policeman snapped his fingers and scolded me not to look at him. When I spoke of my love for my husband and said that I could see no faults in him, she responded sharply: “No one is perfect.”
I knew it would be difficult, but I didn’t expect it to feel like a detective’s interrogation.
After further intense interrogation, we were told without warning that there was an open matter from 2022 that he had not been informed about before. Apparently, he did not receive notice of the court hearing and was therefore ordered dismissed in absentia, something he had no idea about. The police officer said that because of this, even if our marriage was legitimate, his green card would not be approved.
My husband, who had been meticulous with his paperwork since 2013, was shocked.
Throughout the interview, we were assured that it was safe to leave and were instructed to consult an attorney immediately. However, the policeman continued to walk in and out of the room, causing us to stop. When I finally returned, her tone had changed. She admitted that she could only control what happened in her office and could not guarantee that we would leave safely. When I asked her directly if her husband would be detained, she said she didn’t know.
Source: BuzzFeed – LGBTQ – www.buzzfeed.com
