Chapter 12

 

Chapter 12: The Bond Hearing

Becky had never been inside a courtroom before.

The ceilings were high, and everything smelled like old paper and polished wood. Rows of wooden benches stretched out before her, and at the front of the room sat a judge, wearing a black robe and a serious expression.

Becky sat beside Tía Rosa, gripping her diary tightly in her lap. Mr. Alvarez was in front of them, speaking in hushed tones with Gabriela.

Her heart was pounding.

This was it.

This was the day they would find out if her parents could come home.

Waiting for Them

A door at the side of the courtroom opened, and two officers led her parents inside.

Becky’s breath caught.

Her mother and father looked different—tired, wearing simple blue detention uniforms, their faces pale. But the moment they saw her, their eyes filled with tears.

“Mommy! Papi!” Becky cried, but Tía Rosa gently squeezed her hand to keep her from running forward.

Her mother pressed a hand to her heart, mouthing, “Mi amor.”

Her father gave her a small nod, as if to say, “Be strong.”

Becky’s chest ached. They were so close—but still not home.

The Arguments

Mr. Alvarez stood and spoke first.

“Your Honor, Rosa and Manuel Hernandez have lived in the U.S. for ten years. They have no criminal record. They pay taxes. They are raising two U.S.-born children. The only reason they were detained was due to their undocumented status, but they are not a danger to society. They deserve to fight their case while being home with their children.”

The judge nodded, listening.

Then, a government lawyer stood up.

“Your Honor, while we acknowledge that the Hernandez family has been living here peacefully, immigration law is clear. They are not legal residents, and their removal proceedings are justified under current policies.”

Becky clenched her fists.

It wasn’t fair.

She wanted to stand up and yell, “They belong here!”

But she stayed silent, waiting.

Becky Speaks

Then, Mr. Alvarez turned toward Becky.

“Your Honor, Becky Hernandez has written a statement she would like to read.”

Becky’s eyes widened. She hadn’t known she would have to speak.

Tía Rosa gave her a gentle nod.

Becky swallowed hard and stood, clutching her diary as she walked to the front.

She took a deep breath.

Then she began to read.

“My name is Becky Hernandez. I am 8 years old.
My parents were taken from me two weeks ago. My mom is a nurse. My dad builds houses. They love me and my little brother, Nico.
They work hard. They never hurt anyone. They take care of us.

I don’t understand why they have to be locked up.

I just want my family back.

Please, Your Honor. Please let them come home.”

She looked up, her eyes filling with tears.

The courtroom was silent.

The judge’s face was unreadable.

But her mother was crying.

Her father was blinking rapidly, holding back tears.

Tía Rosa squeezed her hands tightly.

The Decision

The judge cleared his throat.

“This is not an easy case,” he said. “I understand that this family has strong ties to their community. I have also read the petition that has gathered thousands of signatures.”

Becky held her breath.

“I am granting bond.”

Becky blinked.

Did that mean—?

Her parents could come home?

The judge continued. “Mr. and Mrs. Hernandez will be released while their case is processed. However, they must attend all future hearings and check-ins with immigration officials.”

Becky didn’t hear the rest.

Her mother let out a sob of relief.

Her father closed his eyes, exhaling deeply.

They were coming home.

Reunion

Becky ran to them the moment they were released into the waiting area.

Her mother knelt down and hugged her so tightly that Becky thought she might never let go.

“My sweet girl,” her mother whispered, tears streaming down her face. “You were so strong.”

Her father wrapped his arms around both of them.

“We’re not giving up,” he said softly. “We still have to fight.”

Becky nodded.

They weren’t safe yet.

But at least now, they would fight together.

That night, Becky wrote in her diary.

“Dear Diary,
Mommy and Papi are home.

I don’t know what will happen next, but I know one thing—
I won’t stop fighting for my family. Ever.”

She closed the diary, curling up between her parents and Nico on the couch.

For the first time in weeks, she finally felt warm.

Finally felt safe.

Finally felt home.