Man who did well after conviction fights deportation
 By: The Associated Press
SALEM — As her husband awaits deportation, his wife clings to a thread of hope that his turnaround after a drug conviction will allow him to stay.
“I just want him to be released,’’ the Salem woman said. “I want them to forgive him for whatever he may have done in the past,’’ said Rosalinda Alvarez. It isn’t so simple. Marco Alvarado, 49, was convicted for dealing heroin in California in 1990, and faces deportation to Mexico.
He has lived here since 1971 and may seek a pardon from California Gov. Arnold Schwartzenegger, who has granted only three.
“Any way we go is a long shot,’’ said Raquel Hecht, a Eugene lawyer representing Alvarado. “It pains me because the guy basically turned around his whole life. He and Rosalinda were doing really well.’’
He served two years. His wife, stepchildren and six grandchildren all are American citizens, and many Salem residents know him as a born-again Christian, Spanish-language-bookstore owner and devoted family man with a new life based on faith and hard work.
But federal immigration judges play it by the book.
A 1996 law, enforced with more vigor since 9-11, says all noncitizens who commit crimes must go.
Since then more than 500,000 noncitizens convicted of crimes have been expelled, 82,000 of them last year.
That’s fine with Jim Ludwick, the president of Oregonians for Immigration Reform.
“The fact of the matter is, there are tens of millions of people who would give their left arms, so to speak, to come to the United States,’’ he said. “We have the ability to pick and choose who can come here. I think that our standards should be high.’’
He says he feels sorry for family members.
But he advocates “zero tolerance for people bringing drugs in here.’’
Before 1996 judges could waive deportations but now it is virtually automatic.
Marin Arreola, a Salem resident and the president of a business-training firm, said Alvarado epitomizes the American dream.
To see that success story wiped out by a rigidly enforced law would be tragic, he said.
“It’s just pretty sad that we punish somebody after such a long time, especially somebody who has tried to lead an exemplary life and has come such a long ways.’’
He hopes public support will help.
“I see hope,’’ Arreola said. “I think he’s a fighter. I just hope that the people who are making this decision are human and can see the reality in terms of this person’s life.’’
Rosalinda and Marco married in 1993 and moved to Salem.
His upbeat, gentle manner was a godsend for Rosalinda, who grew up in an abusive home and had two failed marriages.
“He helps me make sense out of life when life itself becomes uncontrollably chaotic and stressful,’’ Rosalinda wrote to a federal judge.
“If it weren’t for God and Marco’s tremendous support, I would not have been able to raise my children on my own, “she wrote.
Hecht said that Alvarado had no criminal record before or after his 1990 conviction.
In Salem, Alvarado worked about 10 years with Comcast Communications and volunteered in social-service organizations.
A few years ago, he scraped together $7,000 to open a Christian bookstore in May of 2003. By November 2004, Alvarado had purchased a similar store in his hometown, Guadalajara, Mexico.
Today, his Salem store is closed. Rosalinda says she couldn’t handle it and the kids and the house.
Through the years, Alvarado traveled to Mexico many times, always returning to the U.S. without any problems.
Last summer the couple went to Guadalajara and booked separate flights home because of Rosalinda’s work requirements.
His flight arrived in Portland Aug. 7 and he showed customs agents his passport and green card. His drug conviction popped up on the computer.
Agents told him to report to immigration officials, and he did so Oct. 13 and was arrested.
Since then his wife has had only two visits at the detention center in Tacoma, Wash., and sporadic phone calls.
“He calls me whenever the phones are available or when I send him some money so he can buy calling cards,’’ she said.
Hecht is seeking his release on condition that he wear an electronic ankle bracelet but has gotten no reply. She says overturning the deportation order is a long shot but asks why.
“If we don’t agree that people can be reformed, why do we even bother? Why don’t we lock them up forever?’’ she asked.
Rosalinda Alvarado, a medical-office worker, said she feels like she’s buckling.
“This has been really stressful,’’ she said. “I’m just hanging on at my work. I’ve been on anti-depression pills and going to counseling.’’
Bills are piling up. Roxanna, the couple’s youngest child, recently dropped out of college to take a job as a bank teller.
Every day, Rosalinda frets.
What will she do if her husband gets deported? Go back to Mexico?
“I’m Hispanic, but I’m a citizen here,’’ Rosalinda said. “We have our kids here. We have our grandkids here. They’ve pretty much been born and raised here. If he gets deported, it’s going to break up our family.’’
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