OK, So Who Are These Illegal-Infiltrator “Children” We’re Supposed to Be So Upset About?
12th January 2019
John Derbyshire turns over a rock to see what crawls out.
Anyone who pays attention now understands the game being played down there. Juanita pays a sum of money to the coyotes, memorizes a sob story they feed her, rounds up her kids—or hires someone else’s from the coyotes—treks north to our border, presents herself to Border Patrol, or to immigration officers at a port of entry, regurgitates the sob story, lingers in detention a few days being interviewed and signing forms, then gets a ride to the nearest big-city bus depot.
Recently, I went to a talk by Todd Bensman, who worked intelligence at the Texas border. A regular chore for workers at those big-city bus stations, he told us, is sweeping up the piles of ankle bracelets illegals cut off as soon as they get there.
Court appearance? Yeah, right. She’s in, and will never be deported. And so are her children. Or “children.”
The Gestapo at their most pluripotent couldn’t keep track of all the illegal immigrants that seep through our porous system every year. The KGB would find it a challenge but could probably do it.