Five Minutes to Hold Hands
When Antonio and Debra married in early October, three guards stood as witnesses. An Abide in Love volunteer minister officiated the ceremony inside the Ste. Genevieve jail.
The couple could hold hands for about five minutes, share a hug, and exchange a quick kiss. Jail rules prohibited photographs and flowers. Officials permitted rings worth less than $100, but immediately after the ceremony, Antonio handed his ring back to Debra for safekeeping.
She would leave with both rings. He would stay behind.
Antonio and Debra are not their real names. We have changed their names to protect their privacy.
The day everything changed
Before their wedding, Debra hadn’t seen Antonio since August 13.
That morning, they had gotten up early to help her brother clean out storage sheds. The temperature climbed above 100 degrees, and mold and dust filled the sheds. By late evening, Antonio’s eyes bothered him so much that he decided to go home alone.
On a curvy road, a county sheriff’s deputy pulled him over for crossing the yellow line.
Antonio called Debra and told her he would spend the night in jail. At first, neither understood how much that night would change their lives. Antonio had come to the United States from Mexico in the early 2000s. According to Debra, he had a green card. He spoke English and Spanish, worked hard, and had built a life here.
Debra thought she could help him get a public defender the next day.
Instead, Antonio called with different news: ICE had come to pick him up. Authorities transferred him from Bowling Green to the Ste. Genevieve jail.
The couple had already planned to go to the courthouse the following Monday to get married. Now, instead of preparing for their wedding, Debra began trying to find a way to bring Antonio home.
Finding help—and finding the money
A woman helped Debra understand that Antonio needed an immigration attorney. As Debra later told her story, she returned again and again to the same conviction:
“I believe, if he had no lawyer, he would still be in jail to this day.”
But finding legal help proved difficult.
Debra called immigration attorneys across Missouri. Many never returned her calls. She recalls quoted retainers ranging from $2,500 to $5,500, without certainty that the attorney would ultimately take Antonio’s case.
Eventually, she found someone who agreed to help. He required a $2,500 retainer, plus additional costs.
By then, Debra had only one income to cover their expenses and Antonio’s legal needs. Beyond attorney and court fees, she put money into an account so Antonio could communicate with his attorney and family and buy commissary items, including food. Staying in touch brought additional fees.
Even ordinary conversations now came at a cost.
Still, amid the uncertainty and mounting bills, Debra and Antonio held on to their decision to marry.
A wedding, despite the walls
Their attorney helped with the marriage paperwork, but Debra still needed to find someone to perform the ceremony.
At the Ste. Genevieve courthouse, someone suggested that she contact Abide in Love Ste. Genevieve. Susie, the organization’s president, introduced her to Sarah, a volunteer minister who agreed to officiate.
Their wedding would not take place as they had planned. There would be no flowers, no photographs, and no trip home together afterward.
But they could still make their promises to one another.
For a few minutes, they could hold hands.
Another separation
On October 14, Antonio faced an immigration hearing.
According to Debra, his attorney told him he had only a 1% chance of remaining in the United States and would need at least another $7,000 in legal fees to pursue his case.
Facing those odds and costs, Antonio chose voluntary deportation. Two weeks after their wedding, the newlyweds faced a separation across borders.
Debra nevertheless holds on to hope. She plans to pay another $1,500 retainer and perhaps $7,000 to $8,000 in additional expenses as she pursues an immigration petition to reunite with her husband. She understands that the process could take years.
After the search for an attorney, the wedding in jail, and Antonio’s departure, she now faces another long stretch of waiting.
“He is a good man”
When Debra talks about what first drew her to Antonio, her answer is simple:
“He is a good man.”
She describes a man who worked hard, paid Social Security and federal and state taxes, and cared for his family. She remembers, especially, how good he has been to her children.
Debra says she thought the administration’s immigration enforcement would target people who had done harm. She struggles to reconcile that expectation with what happened to the man she knows and loves.
For her, this is not an abstract debate about immigration. It is her husband, their family, and the life they had planned together.
At their wedding, Antonio handed her his ring for safekeeping.
Now she waits for the day he can wear it again.
