Chapter 8

 

Chapter 8: Looking for Answers

Becky had never been inside a police station before.

She gripped Tía Rosa’s hand tightly as they walked through the glass doors. The place smelled like coffee and something metallic, and the hum of voices filled the air. Officers in dark uniforms moved around, talking into radios, typing on computers.

A woman behind the front desk looked up as they approached. “Can I help you?” she asked.

Becky took a deep breath. “My name is Becky Hernandez. My parents were taken in a raid two days ago. I need to know where they are.”

The woman’s expression softened. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” She glanced at Tía Rosa. “Do you have any case information?”

Tía Rosa nodded. “I’ve tried calling different places, but no one gives me answers. We just want to know if they’re okay.”

The receptionist sighed and started typing on her computer. “Immigration cases go through federal agencies. We don’t always get direct information here. But let me see if there are any reports…”

Becky held her breath.

After a few moments, the woman shook her head. “There’s nothing in our system. But that doesn’t mean they’re gone. Sometimes people are held in detention centers while their cases are reviewed.”

“Where?” Becky asked.

The woman hesitated. “There’s one in Newark… but access is limited. You’d need legal representation.”

Becky’s stomach twisted. More waiting. More rules. More obstacles.

She looked up at the woman. “What can we do?”

The receptionist pursed her lips. “You can contact immigration lawyers. Some work with families in situations like this. And keep reaching out to officials. The more noise you make, the harder you are to ignore.”

Becky nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

She wasn’t giving up.

The Library Research

That afternoon, Becky and Tía Rosa walked to the library. Becky sat at a computer, typing slowly, searching for anything about raids, deportations, families being taken away.

Her eyes widened as she clicked through news articles.

“Families Torn Apart by Immigration Raids.”
“Children Left Behind: What Happens When Parents Are Taken.”
“Thousands of Cases, Few Answers.”

The stories sounded just like hers. Parents taken. Kids left behind. People fighting, hoping, waiting.

She scribbled notes in her diary, writing down the names of organizations that helped families. Some of them were nearby.

Tía Rosa leaned over her shoulder. “This could help us, mi amor. Maybe we can find someone who knows what to do.”

Becky nodded, determined.

She wasn’t just going to wait anymore.

She was going to fight.

The Mayor’s Response

The next day, an envelope arrived in the mail. Becky’s heart pounded as she saw the official seal of Fair Lawn on the front.

Tía Rosa opened it, her eyes scanning the letter. “It’s from the mayor’s office.”

Becky’s hands trembled as she took the paper and read:

“Dear Miss Hernandez,
Thank you for your letter. I am deeply sorry to hear about what happened to your family. Immigration policies are complicated, but I have contacted local organizations who may be able to assist you.

I understand how difficult this must be for you. While I cannot change federal policies, I encourage you to reach out to local advocacy groups who support families in your situation. Enclosed is a list of contacts.

Sincerely,
Office of the Mayor”

Becky’s heart sank. The letter was polite, but it wasn’t enough. It didn’t fix anything.

But then she looked at the list of contacts attached.

Lawyers. Activists. Organizations that helped families fight back.

She swallowed hard.

This wasn’t the answer she wanted.

But maybe, just maybe, it was the answer she needed.

Becky stared at the paper in her hands.

She had gone to the police. She had done her research. She had reached out to the mayor.

And now, she had a list of people who might be able to help.

She turned to Tía Rosa.

“What do we do now?”

Her aunt squeezed her shoulder. “Now, mi amor… we fight.”

Becky nodded.

She was ready.