17.5.04
Fenian Voice
ACTION ALERT
Today marks Ciaran Ferry's 470th day in jail.
This week, his family received devastating news that the Board of
Immigration Appeals has denied Ciaran's appeal. The new legal team is working diligently to determine the next course of action before our government attempts to deport him back to Ireland.
Ciaran's latest journal entry written prior to this news follows:
Saturday, May 1:
Now that spring is upon us, the sunrise of the last few mornings has been nothing short of spectacular. I enjoy the exaggerated size of the sun as it slowly climbs from behind the horizon, with the peachy-orange hue it exudes during its ascent.
It is such times that send me into reflection on weekend spring mornings spent fishing with my father-in-law at one of the local lakes that dot metro Denver and the hinterland. Those few hours before the city gets into its stride are so refreshing and peaceful. There is the simplicity of sitting by the water enjoying the still, cool breeze of the early morning.
As I gaze out my window and watch the early morning commuters make their way to work, I wish I was among them even as I remember when I was, I wished I was somewere else. In the evening, as the setting sun castes shadows over my view and the commuters make their way home, I remember doing the same. And I remember being satisfied with my little contribution. The most rewarding time was arriving home to Princeton Junction on a Friday evening. After a fifty-mile journey from my place of work in Paterson, I anticipated our favorite 4-cheese pizza from Al-John's and a bottle of white zinfandel. As I opened the front door I would make sure that the bell on the back of the door clanged to announce my arrival and Fiona would be alerted. She would wait for me to appear in the hallway. These are special moments that are magnified by the bleakness of our present ordeal.
I don't mean for these reflections to appear as memories of someone in the
twilight of life. It seems to me that reflections are melancholy by their very
nature. Places like these: jails, prisons, institutions of confinement, turn
people to reflection because the present rarely offers anything to savor. And
the past is usually where we find our identity; not in our
own appearance in prison garb or sleeping in the same "room" as the toilet.
The indignity of being stripped of control to do even the most trivial task like
when to turn off the light, (which by the way, is never off) or have a shave,
forces the mind to move away from the present. So I reflect, perhaps in an
unconscious effort to muddy the present by recalling some gem of an occurrence to
steal that time away from my unpleasant surroundings.
Now I have another weapon in my arsenal to ward off the trappings of this
place. I have been given the privilege of a radio. I was not fully aware of the
impact that the absence of music had had on me. That first moment when the
music flowed from the speaker left me drunk with joy! The window to the world was
all mine to not share, unlike the newspaper or the TV. I don't mean that in a
selfish way. But the control to block my world out by closing my eyes and turning the radio up so the headphones blocked all sound!
Before THE RADIO, there were few avenues of escape. A good book could send
you into another world. A letter could allow you to share in the life of the
correspondent. There were the bittersweet visits that lasted for the briefest
moments under the tick-tick pressure of "Beat the Clock." There is even a buzzer
to tell you when time is up.
On these visits I peer through the Plexiglas at my young daughter as she
frolics about the visiting area. Occasionally she does something that makes you
catch your breath and literally fight back the tears that force their way into
the wells of the eye. On one occasion Fiona blew a kiss into the phone; the
sweetest, most beautiful gesture that a father could ever hope for. If only I
could pick her up and hug her!
I have come to see a pattern with these moments. They are usually followed by
anger and rage for the indignity and loss as a family. What keeps me going,
resisting the urge to give up, is the knowledge that there will be brighter and
happier days ahead. But having said this, these times of rage and sadness are
a heavy burden. These months of separation are gone forever, never to be
retrieved. The senselessness of the ordeal sometimes
loses for me the goal of the pursuit of justice. Why make a young child, who
has no idea what is going on, go through such negative emotions?
I hate the way this place makes me feel at times. The hopelessness,
powerlessness, doubt, and the ability to conquer another day of uncertainty make me
want to throw in the towel. Of course I want the best for my family. I believe
the best rests in the opportunities of this country. What a paradox that seems
at the moment! There are positive days. There are negative days that leave me
with little patience. There is a surprising amount of tolerance here but the
potential for conflict lurks beneath the surface.
After all that, I feel ashamed that I am complaining about all this. I recall
what those men and women in Armagh went through during the dark days of the
late seventies and early seventies. There, deprivation and death were the order
of the day. Could I have endured such horror? I really don't think so.
-----------------------------------------------------------
WHAT YOU CAN DO TO HELP:
DONATE. Make a charitable contribution to the Ciarán Ferry Legal Defense
Fund.
Ciarán Ferry Legal Defense Fund
P.O. Box 740071
Arvada CO 80006-0071
CONTACT Officials. Send polite letters of inquiry on this case to:
Mr. Doug Maurer
Field Director
Department of Homeland Security
Bureau of Immigration and Customs Enforcement
4730 Paris Street
Denver, CO 80239
Cc: Mr. John Good
Department of Homeland Security
Bureau of Immigration and Customs Enforcement
11901 East 30th Avenue
Aurora, CO 80610
Cc: John Ashcroft
Office of the United States Attorney General
Washington DC 80530
Cc: Tom Ridge
Department of Homeland Security
Washington, DC 20258
Cc: Michael C. Johnson
United States Attorney's Office
1225 17th Street #700
Denver, CO 80202
303-454-0100
Fax 454-0404
Please be sure to mark your correspondence "RE: Ciaran Ferry A# 95-424-147"
ORGANIZE. Increase awareness of the case. Encourage your local
Irish-American social groups, organizations and businesses to organize
fundraisers and rallies to support Ciarán.
WRITE to Ciarán and let him know that you support his campaign. Letters may
be sent to:
CIARAN O'FEARAIGH
P.O. Box 16700
Golden, CO 80402-6700
Ciarán is allowed to receive paperback books and magazines through regular
US mail. He is no longer able to receive stamps. If you would like to send
money towards Ciarán's jail account to aid him in the purchase of food,
toiletries and postage costs, please send a check or money order made out to the
Ciarán Ferry Legal Defense Fund, with a note that the money is for Ciarán directly.
The address is: Ciarán Ferry Legal Defense Fund, PO Box 740071, Arvada CO
80006-0071.
GET POLITICANS INVOLVED: Get politicians, particularly Members of
Congress and the Senate, involved in asking questions about ALL of the Irish
Deportee cases in America (i.e.- Ciarán Ferry, Malachy McAllister, and John
McNicholl).
For more information visit: http://www.freeciaranferry.com
ACTION ALERT
Today marks Ciaran Ferry's 470th day in jail.
This week, his family received devastating news that the Board of
Immigration Appeals has denied Ciaran's appeal. The new legal team is working diligently to determine the next course of action before our government attempts to deport him back to Ireland.
Ciaran's latest journal entry written prior to this news follows:
Saturday, May 1:
Now that spring is upon us, the sunrise of the last few mornings has been nothing short of spectacular. I enjoy the exaggerated size of the sun as it slowly climbs from behind the horizon, with the peachy-orange hue it exudes during its ascent.
It is such times that send me into reflection on weekend spring mornings spent fishing with my father-in-law at one of the local lakes that dot metro Denver and the hinterland. Those few hours before the city gets into its stride are so refreshing and peaceful. There is the simplicity of sitting by the water enjoying the still, cool breeze of the early morning.
As I gaze out my window and watch the early morning commuters make their way to work, I wish I was among them even as I remember when I was, I wished I was somewere else. In the evening, as the setting sun castes shadows over my view and the commuters make their way home, I remember doing the same. And I remember being satisfied with my little contribution. The most rewarding time was arriving home to Princeton Junction on a Friday evening. After a fifty-mile journey from my place of work in Paterson, I anticipated our favorite 4-cheese pizza from Al-John's and a bottle of white zinfandel. As I opened the front door I would make sure that the bell on the back of the door clanged to announce my arrival and Fiona would be alerted. She would wait for me to appear in the hallway. These are special moments that are magnified by the bleakness of our present ordeal.
I don't mean for these reflections to appear as memories of someone in the
twilight of life. It seems to me that reflections are melancholy by their very
nature. Places like these: jails, prisons, institutions of confinement, turn
people to reflection because the present rarely offers anything to savor. And
the past is usually where we find our identity; not in our
own appearance in prison garb or sleeping in the same "room" as the toilet.
The indignity of being stripped of control to do even the most trivial task like
when to turn off the light, (which by the way, is never off) or have a shave,
forces the mind to move away from the present. So I reflect, perhaps in an
unconscious effort to muddy the present by recalling some gem of an occurrence to
steal that time away from my unpleasant surroundings.
Now I have another weapon in my arsenal to ward off the trappings of this
place. I have been given the privilege of a radio. I was not fully aware of the
impact that the absence of music had had on me. That first moment when the
music flowed from the speaker left me drunk with joy! The window to the world was
all mine to not share, unlike the newspaper or the TV. I don't mean that in a
selfish way. But the control to block my world out by closing my eyes and turning the radio up so the headphones blocked all sound!
Before THE RADIO, there were few avenues of escape. A good book could send
you into another world. A letter could allow you to share in the life of the
correspondent. There were the bittersweet visits that lasted for the briefest
moments under the tick-tick pressure of "Beat the Clock." There is even a buzzer
to tell you when time is up.
On these visits I peer through the Plexiglas at my young daughter as she
frolics about the visiting area. Occasionally she does something that makes you
catch your breath and literally fight back the tears that force their way into
the wells of the eye. On one occasion Fiona blew a kiss into the phone; the
sweetest, most beautiful gesture that a father could ever hope for. If only I
could pick her up and hug her!
I have come to see a pattern with these moments. They are usually followed by
anger and rage for the indignity and loss as a family. What keeps me going,
resisting the urge to give up, is the knowledge that there will be brighter and
happier days ahead. But having said this, these times of rage and sadness are
a heavy burden. These months of separation are gone forever, never to be
retrieved. The senselessness of the ordeal sometimes
loses for me the goal of the pursuit of justice. Why make a young child, who
has no idea what is going on, go through such negative emotions?
I hate the way this place makes me feel at times. The hopelessness,
powerlessness, doubt, and the ability to conquer another day of uncertainty make me
want to throw in the towel. Of course I want the best for my family. I believe
the best rests in the opportunities of this country. What a paradox that seems
at the moment! There are positive days. There are negative days that leave me
with little patience. There is a surprising amount of tolerance here but the
potential for conflict lurks beneath the surface.
After all that, I feel ashamed that I am complaining about all this. I recall
what those men and women in Armagh went through during the dark days of the
late seventies and early seventies. There, deprivation and death were the order
of the day. Could I have endured such horror? I really don't think so.
-----------------------------------------------------------
WHAT YOU CAN DO TO HELP:
DONATE. Make a charitable contribution to the Ciarán Ferry Legal Defense
Fund.
Ciarán Ferry Legal Defense Fund
P.O. Box 740071
Arvada CO 80006-0071
CONTACT Officials. Send polite letters of inquiry on this case to:
Mr. Doug Maurer
Field Director
Department of Homeland Security
Bureau of Immigration and Customs Enforcement
4730 Paris Street
Denver, CO 80239
Cc: Mr. John Good
Department of Homeland Security
Bureau of Immigration and Customs Enforcement
11901 East 30th Avenue
Aurora, CO 80610
Cc: John Ashcroft
Office of the United States Attorney General
Washington DC 80530
Cc: Tom Ridge
Department of Homeland Security
Washington, DC 20258
Cc: Michael C. Johnson
United States Attorney's Office
1225 17th Street #700
Denver, CO 80202
303-454-0100
Fax 454-0404
Please be sure to mark your correspondence "RE: Ciaran Ferry A# 95-424-147"
ORGANIZE. Increase awareness of the case. Encourage your local
Irish-American social groups, organizations and businesses to organize
fundraisers and rallies to support Ciarán.
WRITE to Ciarán and let him know that you support his campaign. Letters may
be sent to:
CIARAN O'FEARAIGH
P.O. Box 16700
Golden, CO 80402-6700
Ciarán is allowed to receive paperback books and magazines through regular
US mail. He is no longer able to receive stamps. If you would like to send
money towards Ciarán's jail account to aid him in the purchase of food,
toiletries and postage costs, please send a check or money order made out to the
Ciarán Ferry Legal Defense Fund, with a note that the money is for Ciarán directly.
The address is: Ciarán Ferry Legal Defense Fund, PO Box 740071, Arvada CO
80006-0071.
GET POLITICANS INVOLVED: Get politicians, particularly Members of
Congress and the Senate, involved in asking questions about ALL of the Irish
Deportee cases in America (i.e.- Ciarán Ferry, Malachy McAllister, and John
McNicholl).
For more information visit: http://www.freeciaranferry.com
