Welcome Home: CBP Hospitality in Buffalo, NY - 14 August 2011

I have traveled a great deal in my life.  Excepting one occasion in which a Dutch security official took keen interest in my official travel to and from Afghanistan and was referred by me to the US Embassy, the only problems I've ever had were my departures from and returns to the United States.  Since 9/11 I only encounter combative and accusatory Customs and Border Protection (CBP) agents who lack professionalism. 

My last entry into the US was no different, other than the fact that this time I was not traveling on orders, which simply meant that I couldn’t use my official service to my country as a way to diffuse the CBP agent’s innate hostility.  Usually, I’ll mention that I’m on orders or something similar and the agent’s tune changes. 

This time, not only was I not on orders, but my traveling companion is going through a difficult divorce.  She has a no-contact restraining order against her soon-to-be ex-husband.  He in turn acquired a “refrain from” order against her.  There’s apparently a rather large difference between the two.  He’s not allowed to contact her in any way, and cannot be near her.  She, in turn, is not allowed to “harass” him; no texts or emails or phone calls and the like.  These orders, issued by a family court and not a criminal court, are entered into the National Criminal Information Center (NCIC) database so that they can be enforced across state boundaries.  

For some reason unbeknownst to me, when she crosses back into the United States and CBP runs her passport, NCIC flags her as in violation of the restraining order despite the fact that neither my name nor my face resembles her husband.  This is the genesis of the absurdity that followed, and while it’s confusing to me, it’s equally so to the CBP because the supervisor was able to fully explain neither why it pops up so nor the heavy-handed reaction of the gate agent.

As an aside, if you’re not aware, you are no longer allowed to travel back into the US from Canada without a passport, a passport card, or an “enhanced driver’s license.”  Technically you’re not allowed into Canada if you do not have the necessary documents to get back into the US, but the Canadian agents do not check for passports from travelers entering Canada from the US; they only ask that you present a photo ID.  You could actually be denied entry back into the US.  Keep that in mind if you wish to visit our northern neighbor.  CBP’s policy is that it’s your fault if you do not know the rules and you will not likely be granted a swift reprieve. 

To the point, however, our interaction began innocently enough in CBP terms.  We queued up and eventually rolled up to the check point at which time a working dog smelled the outside of our car.  A camera flashed me as I entered the stall, and another camera was pointed at the back of the car so as to record the license plate number.  There was another camera pointed inside my window and I presume some manner of audio recording equipment was present as well.  New, post-9/11 blockades force you to make a 90 degree turn upon exiting the stall.  This prevents a mad dash for the safety of the US.  All for my protection, I’m sure.  Unlike in airports, there were no signs saying that I couldn’t use my phone, so I snapped a quick picture of all this.  I’d still bet you that had someone seen me, they would have inquired about it and possibly confiscated my phone.  It’s just a hunch I have, and I was unwilling to test this hunch later in the encounter.  I can’t afford to replace my phone at the moment.

The agent himself was dressed in a very military manner, with dark blue BDUs, body armor under his blouse, and a sort of tactical vest.  He was carrying a pistol, ammo, hand cuffs, pepper spray, and a baton.  We can’t forget the badge, behind which he hides when someone questions his station.  The only thing he was missing was a rifle and a helmet.  But that’s how just about any average cop looks these days, which is telling in a way if you think about it.

I presented our passports and he began by asking us a slew of questions.  Standard stuff, really, and while I don’t see why I have to tell a US government representative why I was in Canada for example, I have no problem answering them honestly.  We even talked about my being a Marine.  Then he ran our passports in his nifty little system and his demeanor changed.  I saw him reach up to his radio and call in a “10-22 on a tan van with two occupants.”  He asked me to turn off the car and to hand him the keys.  He then put a black strip under the vehicle and proceeded to open the sliding door of the van and looked around.  He filled out piece of paper with the license plate number and the number of occupants and handed it to me. 

In less than a minute, four CBP agents approached the driver’s side and a guy in a white glove (more on him later) instructed me to put my hands on the steering wheel.  The first agent says, “It’s the female,” and they then descended upon the passenger’s side, instructing her to place her hands on the dash.  They took her out and began walking her over to a neat looking mirrored building.  I sat there patiently.  Then I looked back and saw them holding her arms and I was curious about that whole thing.  I knew what it was about, as this happened to us in Chicago, but in a far less heavy-handed manner.  So I asked the guy.  Here is the transcript:

Me: "Do they really need four guys to walk her over there?"
CBP: "Do you have a problem with that?"
Me: "Yeah, I kinda do."
CBP: "Yeah, why's that?"
Me: "Because I'm a citizen and-"
CBP: "What's that mean?"
Me: "We're American citizens and you're treating us like criminals."
CBP: "What's that mean?"
Me: "Not much anymore, I guess."
CBP: "Do you know why she's going over there?"
Me: "Yeah, when we-"
CBP: "Do you know why she's going over there?"
Me: "I guess not."
CBP: "Then why are you opening your mouth?"
Me: "Because it's my right to do so?"
CBP: "It's your right to do so?  Keep it up."
Me: "Keep it up?"
CBP: "Yes.  You've been told."
Me: "I've been told...  I've been told, he says."

I wasn’t sure what this meant at the time.  I am still not sure what the agent meant by this.  I intend on inquiring with my congressman, and am hoping that he can shed some light on what the CBP agent meant when he said that I’ve “been told.”  My assumption at the time was that were I to continue to question the agent and the CBP or to exercise my right to free speech, I was going to be detained or otherwise embarrassed.  Frankly, I was in a state of semi-shock at the absurdity of it.

I did not ask my initial question with hostility.  I was merely curious.  Had the agent said, “Yes sir, that’s just standard operating procedure,” I would have been quite content with that answer.  But he didn’t.  He asked me if I had a problem with that.  He did not do so nicely.  In short, he was a prick about it.  He was exercising his authority; he a badged, uniformed representative of the US government and me a lowly citizen, neither accused nor suspected of a crime.  Perhaps he felt that I was challenging his authority and that he, by the virtues of the uniform and badge, commanded unquestioning respect and deference.  So he felt that he had to intimidate me back into line, instead of treating me with respect and preventing a situation from even starting.  I’m afraid to say it, but it sort of worked.  I had to assume that my “being told” was a threat and that further speaking on my part was not going to end well for me.  I couldn’t assume otherwise since his inference as to what he felt about my citizenship seemed to speak volumes. 

So I shut up and sat there.  I thought briefly about turning on the voice recording function of my phone and striking up another conversation with him and discounted that immediately since recent events have shown government representatives to be less than enthused about being recorded.  So I sat there.  And as I sat there, I was convinced that were I detained, I’d be released in short order because I did nothing wrong.  I knew that.  He knew that.  Everyone knew that.  But had I continued to speak, and the implied threat was exercised, I had no idea how long I’d be stuck in some room waiting for someone to talk to me and let me go.

After a few minutes, the agent points to two other agents and instructs me to drive to them and to park.  So I thank him and tell him that I appreciate his help, without malice, and do so.  The agent directs me to park and then tells me to turn off the car and to roll up my windows.  This is to keep me from hearing them, you know. 

Inside the mirrored building, the agent had firm hold of my companion’s arm and asked her if she had any outstanding warrants.  She replied that she did not but that she was going through a messy divorce and that it was a restraining order issued by family court.  He says, “Ah, that explains everything,” and immediately let go of her arm.  She asked why this has happened twice, and he explained that it pops up as a “no contact/in contact” violation.  No one can explain why that is.  My assumption is that she’s traveling with a male (me) so they in turn assume that I’m him.  Who knows?  They don’t.  If they did, they probably wouldn’t tell us. 

After ten minutes or so, my companion comes back and is escorted by the guy with the white glove who comes around to my side and asks me to roll down my window.  He is apologetic and explains the situation to me, telling me that the code the gate agent called in resulted in the reaction he and the other three agents had and that he was supposed to handcuff her.  He was very professional.  He noticed that I was overseas (assumingly from my passport) and we chat about his experiences with Blackwater and mine with DynCorp. 

I tell him (as I tell you now) that I am very familiar with security and procedures and the like and that I understand their having to make sure that they themselves are safe.  I then told him that the agent rubbed me the wrong way and that I found him to be very unprofessional and disrespectful when I asked him why they needed four agents to escort her.  He again said that they reacted as they did based on the code the agent called in, the “10-22,” and that he shouldn’t have called it in that way.  I kid you not that his next words were this:

“He knows better.”

He knows better.  But he did it anyway.  The entire confrontation between me and this agent, which could have been easily averted several times, happened because he called in a high-profile code despite knowing better.  Amazing, isn’t it?

I told the agent in charge that if the guy said that it was protocol, I would have been fine with that.  Except that it wasn't protocol.  He said again, “He knows better.”  He said, "In cases like this, we usually have you park the vehicle and we have an officer escort both of you into the building and we ask some questions.  He knows better."  Then he went on to tell me that he’s been doing this since 1975 and that most of these guys only have a few years of experience.  He basically blamed the agent’s lack of professionalism and common courtesy on his lack of experience. 

He then thanked me for what I do and told me to keep safe out there.  I returned the sentiments and went on my way.  In the 24 hours that has followed, I have wondered repeatedly if I hadn't just blown the whole thing out of proportion.  But then I think, no.  I think, hell no.  All he had to do was treat me with a little respect; as a man, as a citizen, as someone who has served his country, hell, as a human being, and we wouldn’t have gotten into a pissing contest which I was sure to lose.  But he just barked at me and threw his tin badge in my face and told me to know my role.  In fact, according to his supervisor, he needlessly elevated the situation to begin with.  It never should have happened at all. 

I fear my government and its legion of quasi-paramilitary forces, bureaucratic thugs, and growing body of incomprehensible laws more than I've ever feared any terrorist with a bomb. The latter cannot destroy our way of life, but the former can. The latter only wishes to kill you; the former wishes to subjugate you for your own protection, be it from the terrorist, or yourself.

There were twenty stalls at that one border crossing.  If what the agent in charge says is accurate, most of them were occupied by people without experience, who’ve been employed entirely in the post-9/11 era of suspicion and fear.  They have had the specter of terrorism looming over their careers since they began.  They have been taught that everyone is a potential threat and will be treated as such until such a time as they’re proven not to be.  No border stop is routine.  There is no illusion of courtesy whatsoever.  They have to be tough guys and have to be aggressive and assume you’re a bad guy because if they fail even once, if some jihadi gets a bomb into Buffalo, they might as well have failed a thousand times.  They will be investigated and thrown under a bus and fired.  The Global War on Terrorism battlefield has literally crept into our backyard while we were cowering under our beds.  And we give our government money and demand that it treat us like shit.  All in the name of freedom.

Does anyone see the problem with that?