The Law Is an Ass
No doubt you've heard the ancient adage: "What you don't know won't hurt you." It means that if you don't know about a fact or a problem, you don't need to worry about it. It might be okay for your spouse to say this when you ask how much those new clothes ran up your credit card. But this is definitely not good advice when it comes to knowledge about the law. In fact, there is another old adage that warns against this: "Ignorance of the law is no excuse." And for good measure, I'll throw in a familiar saying to keep in mind as you read what follows: "The law is an ass." It originated in Charles Dickens' Oliver Twist, when the character, Mr. Bumble, is informed that "the law supposes that your wife acts under your direction." Mr. Bumble replies: "If the law supposes that, the law is a ass – a idiot". There are two people I know who would agree the law really is an ass. One is a Cypriot-American restaurateur named Hosep Krikor Bajakajian. The other is an illegal alien dishwasher from Guatemala named Pedro Zapeta. And may I suggest that the mindless politicians who make such cruel laws certainly deserve to be called asses?
Baggage BewareOn June 9, 1994 at Los Angeles International Airport, Hosep Krikor Bajakajian, his wife and two daughters were boarding a flight to Cyprus. They were carrying US$230,000 inside their checked luggage, with another US$127,144 more in their carry-on bags.Using their dogs, the customs inspectors discovered the money inside the checked luggage. When Bajakajian failed to declare the cash on the custom departure form, he was arrested and the money seized. He said he was unaware of the reporting requirement. Then and now, the Bank Secrecy Act (Title 31 USC, sec. 5316) requires that you report if you’re transporting US$10,000 or more into or out of the United States. Another law requires the government to seize "any property…involved in such offense."Bajakajian's funds were not connected to any criminal activity. On the contrary, he intended to use this hard-earned money to pay off debts and loans from his family in Cyprus, after years of work in America. But because he failed to fill out a single one-page form, the mighty U.S. government decided that the just and proper punishment for this terrible crime should be a forfeiture to the government of US$357,144. Even the United States Supreme Court found this to be too much to stomach. By a 5-4 vote on June 22, 1998, the Court majority, for the first time in U.S. history, struck down a civil forfeiture as an "excessive fine" prohibited by the VIII Amendment to the Bill of Rights. That's the one that reads: "Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted." (We can only guess what it cost Mr. Bajakajian to fight this case.) The Supreme Court said the forfeiture was "grossly disproportional to the gravity of the offense." U.S. Department of "Justice" officials feverishly tried to find ways around this ruling, painfully aware their forfeiture cash flow might be in serious danger. (In the last 20 years, federal, state and local police have hauled in over US$5 billion in civil forfeiture, most of which they get to keep, even if no crime is charged). For a time, the Bajakajian decision somewhat curtailed the money police’s powers to steal cash from innocent but perhaps ignorant people.This decision rattled the money police in the worst way. So in the feverish aftermath of the 9-11 terrorist attacks, politicians slipped a special anti-Bajakajian provision into the infamous 2001 PATRIOT Act with no hearings or notice. This provision completely reversed the 1998 Supreme Court decision, by making it a crime to carry and fail to report "bulk cash," regardless of whether it is tied to any other crime. Now, if you don't report that you are carrying US$10,001.00 in cash, negotiable instruments or checks, they take it all. You can spend that amount and more fighting to get it back.
Cruel and Now Usual
For 11 years, Pedro Zapeta, an illegal immigrant from Guatemala, lived his version of the American dream in Stuart, Florida. He washed dishes and lived frugally to bring money back to his home country. Somehow, he managed to sock away US$59,000 over 11 years of minimum wage jobs. And he has the pay stubs to prove it. Two years ago, Zapeta was ready to return to Guatemala. He carried a duffel bag filled with US$59,000 – all the cash he had scrimped and saved over the years – to the Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport. But when he tried to go through airport security, a TSA/Homeland Security officer spotted the money in the bag and called U.S. customs officials. U.S. customs seized his money, setting off a two-year struggle by Zapeta to get it back. Zapeta, who speaks no English, said he didn't know he was violating U.S. law by failing to declare he had more than US$10,000 with him. The money police initially accused Zapeta of being a drug courier. But they dropped that once he produced pay stubs from restaurants where he had worked. Zapeta earned at the most US$5.75 an hour.Customs turned him over to the Immigration and Naturalization Service and the INS released him but began deportation proceedings. For two years, Zapeta has had two attorneys working pro bono. One is working on his immigration case, and the other trying to get his money back.Robert Gershman, one of Zapeta's attorneys, said federal prosecutors offered his client a deal. He could take US$10,000 of the original cash seized, plus US$9,000 in donations as long as he didn't talk publicly about the incident. And he had to leave the country immediately.
Zapeta said, "No." He wanted all his money. He'd earned it, he said. Now another arm of the money police, the Internal Revenue Service, wants access to cash donated to him to cover taxes on the donations and on the money Zapeta made as a dishwasher. Zapeta admits he never paid taxes. The U.S. Attorneys office in Miami, U.S. Customs and the IRS about Zapeta's all declined to comment. (Ashamed, perhaps?)
Welcome to America: Good-bye
Last week Zapeta went to immigration court and got more bad news. The judge gave the dishwasher until the end of January to leave the country on his own. He's unlikely to see a penny of his money. "I am desperate," Zapeta said. "I no longer feel good about this country."Zapeta said his goal in coming to the United States was to make enough money to buy land in his mountain village. He wanted to build a home there for his mother and sisters. He sent no money back to Guatemala over the years, he said, and planned to bring it all home at once.
At Wednesday's hearing, Zapeta was given official status in the United States – voluntary departure – and a signed order from a judge. For the first time, he can work legally in the United States.By the end of January, Zapeta may be able to earn enough money to pay for a one-way ticket home. But the U.S. government, which seized his US$59,000, doesn't have to do so.America! What a country!
No doubt you've heard the ancient adage: "What you don't know won't hurt you." It means that if you don't know about a fact or a problem, you don't need to worry about it. It might be okay for your spouse to say this when you ask how much those new clothes ran up your credit card. But this is definitely not good advice when it comes to knowledge about the law. In fact, there is another old adage that warns against this: "Ignorance of the law is no excuse." And for good measure, I'll throw in a familiar saying to keep in mind as you read what follows: "The law is an ass." It originated in Charles Dickens' Oliver Twist, when the character, Mr. Bumble, is informed that "the law supposes that your wife acts under your direction." Mr. Bumble replies: "If the law supposes that, the law is a ass – a idiot". There are two people I know who would agree the law really is an ass. One is a Cypriot-American restaurateur named Hosep Krikor Bajakajian. The other is an illegal alien dishwasher from Guatemala named Pedro Zapeta. And may I suggest that the mindless politicians who make such cruel laws certainly deserve to be called asses?
Baggage BewareOn June 9, 1994 at Los Angeles International Airport, Hosep Krikor Bajakajian, his wife and two daughters were boarding a flight to Cyprus. They were carrying US$230,000 inside their checked luggage, with another US$127,144 more in their carry-on bags.Using their dogs, the customs inspectors discovered the money inside the checked luggage. When Bajakajian failed to declare the cash on the custom departure form, he was arrested and the money seized. He said he was unaware of the reporting requirement. Then and now, the Bank Secrecy Act (Title 31 USC, sec. 5316) requires that you report if you’re transporting US$10,000 or more into or out of the United States. Another law requires the government to seize "any property…involved in such offense."Bajakajian's funds were not connected to any criminal activity. On the contrary, he intended to use this hard-earned money to pay off debts and loans from his family in Cyprus, after years of work in America. But because he failed to fill out a single one-page form, the mighty U.S. government decided that the just and proper punishment for this terrible crime should be a forfeiture to the government of US$357,144. Even the United States Supreme Court found this to be too much to stomach. By a 5-4 vote on June 22, 1998, the Court majority, for the first time in U.S. history, struck down a civil forfeiture as an "excessive fine" prohibited by the VIII Amendment to the Bill of Rights. That's the one that reads: "Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted." (We can only guess what it cost Mr. Bajakajian to fight this case.) The Supreme Court said the forfeiture was "grossly disproportional to the gravity of the offense." U.S. Department of "Justice" officials feverishly tried to find ways around this ruling, painfully aware their forfeiture cash flow might be in serious danger. (In the last 20 years, federal, state and local police have hauled in over US$5 billion in civil forfeiture, most of which they get to keep, even if no crime is charged). For a time, the Bajakajian decision somewhat curtailed the money police’s powers to steal cash from innocent but perhaps ignorant people.This decision rattled the money police in the worst way. So in the feverish aftermath of the 9-11 terrorist attacks, politicians slipped a special anti-Bajakajian provision into the infamous 2001 PATRIOT Act with no hearings or notice. This provision completely reversed the 1998 Supreme Court decision, by making it a crime to carry and fail to report "bulk cash," regardless of whether it is tied to any other crime. Now, if you don't report that you are carrying US$10,001.00 in cash, negotiable instruments or checks, they take it all. You can spend that amount and more fighting to get it back.
Cruel and Now Usual
For 11 years, Pedro Zapeta, an illegal immigrant from Guatemala, lived his version of the American dream in Stuart, Florida. He washed dishes and lived frugally to bring money back to his home country. Somehow, he managed to sock away US$59,000 over 11 years of minimum wage jobs. And he has the pay stubs to prove it. Two years ago, Zapeta was ready to return to Guatemala. He carried a duffel bag filled with US$59,000 – all the cash he had scrimped and saved over the years – to the Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport. But when he tried to go through airport security, a TSA/Homeland Security officer spotted the money in the bag and called U.S. customs officials. U.S. customs seized his money, setting off a two-year struggle by Zapeta to get it back. Zapeta, who speaks no English, said he didn't know he was violating U.S. law by failing to declare he had more than US$10,000 with him. The money police initially accused Zapeta of being a drug courier. But they dropped that once he produced pay stubs from restaurants where he had worked. Zapeta earned at the most US$5.75 an hour.Customs turned him over to the Immigration and Naturalization Service and the INS released him but began deportation proceedings. For two years, Zapeta has had two attorneys working pro bono. One is working on his immigration case, and the other trying to get his money back.Robert Gershman, one of Zapeta's attorneys, said federal prosecutors offered his client a deal. He could take US$10,000 of the original cash seized, plus US$9,000 in donations as long as he didn't talk publicly about the incident. And he had to leave the country immediately.
Zapeta said, "No." He wanted all his money. He'd earned it, he said. Now another arm of the money police, the Internal Revenue Service, wants access to cash donated to him to cover taxes on the donations and on the money Zapeta made as a dishwasher. Zapeta admits he never paid taxes. The U.S. Attorneys office in Miami, U.S. Customs and the IRS about Zapeta's all declined to comment. (Ashamed, perhaps?)
Welcome to America: Good-bye
Last week Zapeta went to immigration court and got more bad news. The judge gave the dishwasher until the end of January to leave the country on his own. He's unlikely to see a penny of his money. "I am desperate," Zapeta said. "I no longer feel good about this country."Zapeta said his goal in coming to the United States was to make enough money to buy land in his mountain village. He wanted to build a home there for his mother and sisters. He sent no money back to Guatemala over the years, he said, and planned to bring it all home at once.
At Wednesday's hearing, Zapeta was given official status in the United States – voluntary departure – and a signed order from a judge. For the first time, he can work legally in the United States.By the end of January, Zapeta may be able to earn enough money to pay for a one-way ticket home. But the U.S. government, which seized his US$59,000, doesn't have to do so.America! What a country!
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