Several years ago my friend Alejandro discovered accounting “errors” that involved Pacific Rim capital intersecting with road-building contractors in Latin America.
He fled to the U.S. to seek asylum. He couldn’t work, drive, apply for a credit card or rent an apartment. He didn’t speak English well. (That’s how we came to know each other.)
A proudly independent lawyer in his late 30’s, Alejandro moved in with his brother’s family. They were generous and welcoming but his presence complicated things.
During those years in the wilderness, a neighbor asked if he would do manual labor. Alejandro spent an day working in the guy’s basement and was paid $20. The search for asylum is a nightmare. Delays are rampant. When a judge goes on vacation, deadlines are postponed and time runs backward.
Last year Alejandro’s work and perseverance finally paid off. His request for residency was granted. A green card followed. He landed a short-term gig that led to a full-time position in the not-for-profit healthcare sector.
When we met this week he brought along his new licenses, credentials and clippings of his accomplishments. We’re lucky to have him.
