Before reading the account below, get yourself up to date by digesting the following :
David and Dee's story as of September 2013 : http://britcits.blogspot.co.uk/2013/09/david-dee-home-office-has-appealed-high.html
'Dee is in a detention centre tonight' : http://britcits.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/british-citizen-davids-canadian-wife.html
Dee's refusal letter : http://britcits.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/update-on-david-and-dee-previously.html
'Refusing entry to the UK as a visitor' : http://britcits.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/refusing-entry-to-uk-as-visitor-httpwww.html
Interview with David : http://britcits.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/minimum-wage-visa-rules-keep-man-and.html
Now read on...
My Nightmare with UKBA
(a.k.a. An Early Halloween Tale)
by Dee
A
little background. David and I have been married six years. We started our
married life in Canada, but due to issues with Dave's children and his PR
application, he needed to move back to the UK in February 2011. The intention
at that point was to ensure my adult children were settled before joining Dave
in the UK.
As
a Canadian national, I do not require a pre-arranged visa to enter the UK, and
in May 2012, I arrived in the UK and was given a six-month visitor visa on
arrival. We intended for a visa for me to be able to stay longer during this
time. Six weeks or so later, on the 9tth July 2012, the Immigration
rules changed. We contacted UKBA, who told us that I could no longer apply from
within the UK and would have to leave at the end of my visitor visa or before,
and in November 2012, I returned to Canada.
In
March 2013, I applied for a Spouse visa under the new rules via Worldbridge
Canada, knowing that David doesn't meet the minimum income requirement but that
if refused, we'd appeal under Article 8 as suggested by others we'd spoken
with. I attended my appointment to have my biometrics taken, to be told that I
could only put a travel date no longer than three months after applying. As I'd
put in a travel date for August 2013, I was told to return for biometrics in
May, which I did. After a last-minute panic because the British Consulate in
Toronto had missed the last two pages of my application when sending the
application back to Worldbridge for this second biometric appointment, I
returned home to wait.
And
wait. According to Worldbridge, Spouse visa applications take around ten weeks
to process, and I was counting off the weeks until the expected (denied) visa
decision to arrive. On 5th July, at the end of my application's 8th
week, Justice Blake told the Home Secretary that the minimum income requirement
was too high, and we thought that this would actually work in our favour.. We
were wrong.
The
Home Office appealed, and put all applications that would only fail due to not
meeting the income threshold on hold. We were still waiting. In August, my
oldest son announced that he and his fiancee were getting married in December.
In the Philippines, and he insisted on paying for my ticket to make sure I
could go! Decisions, decisions. Wait for the Home Office appeal (possibly 9-12
months) and hope that decision isn't appealed again, or withdraw my application
and go to my son's wedding. David and I both said the same thing. I needed my
passport back.
I
contacted Worldbridge and UKBA to see if my application was likely to be
processed anyway during the hold, but no answer. I again contacted Worldbridge
asking whether I could withdraw my application without any problems entering
the UK afterwards. “Withdrawing your application has no bearing on you being able
to enter the UK” They said withdrawing the application would take about 6-10
weeks for my documents to be returned, so I withdrew. I was surprised when my
documents were returned two days later. There was no refusal, nor anything to
say that I could not enter the UK.
Great
I thought, I can go visit David for a month or so, fly from there to the
Philippines for the wedding, then fly back to the UK before David and I moved
to Ireland to exercise treaty rights. Once more, David and I would be together.
The UKBA had other ideas.
I
arrived at Gatwick Airport – South Terminal on Tuesday 22nd October,
excited because I knew David was going to be waiting for me in the Arrivals
Hall after I hadn't seen him for eleven months. I approached passport control
and handed my passport over, and the lady asked me how long I was staying. I
told her I'd be in the UK six weeks, leaving for the Philippines for a few
weeks, then returning for three months before moving to Ireland with my
husband. She asked if I had a ticket to the Philippines with me, and I told her
that my son was booking it in the next few weeks.
The lady said she needed to talk to her Supervisor to get
clarification, and at 10.45am I was placed in a little glass-walled waiting
room that is locked from the outside, with everyone going past wondering what
you've done to get put into holding. I was sure I had done nothing wrong, but
it sure makes you feel guilty when you see people looking at you like you're a
criminal..
At
11.15am, a different lady came to get me. Not at all helpful or friendly, but
very demanding and intimidating. I was asked if I had any other luggage than my
carry-on, and I said yes, I had one suitcase. I was escorted to baggage where I
collected my suitcase, then escorted through the airport to a detention centre
elsewhere in the terminal.Before being put into a new holding area, I was asked
to empty my bags and watched as this lady went through all my stuff and put
anything paper in a plastic bag, and my medication in another.. When she was
satisfied, I was told to repack my bags (no help offered), I was escorted to a
detention area. When I asked what was happening, the lady escorting me said
that Immigration were not satisfied with my answers, and that they had more
questions for me. Check-in time at the detention area was 11.15am
The
staff at the detention centre were nice, and I was the only detainee there at
the time. I had not been able to talk to David, and asked the lady detention
centre staff if I could make a phone call. She asked if it was a UK number, I
said yes, and she allowed me to call David. She also gave me a number that
David to call to reach me on.
I
finally got called out to have my picture and fingerprints taken, then taken to
a very small room that had chains on some of the chairs, where I waited some
more. An Immigration Officer arrived with a list of 106 questions already
prepared, most of which didn't seem relevant to me visiting my husband in
Wales. She asked why I had not moved to the UK in February 2011, and I
explained that it was due to working,
money and wanting to ensure that my sons were settled before I left. She seemed
to think that ensuring my twenty-two year old son had somewhere to live was a
bad thing.
She
wanted to know why I'd withdrawn my application for a Spouse visa. When I told
her about my son's wedding in the Philippines, she asked if I needed a visa,how
long had the y known each other, what date were they getting married, and why
did I not have more information. I answered the questions truthfully, and that
my ticket had not been booked yet as my son would book them at the same time he
booked his own. The only documentation that I had with me that they queried was
an email I'd printed off with address details for a BBC Radio Wales interview
conducted at a Toronto radio station recently. The Immigration Officer wanted
to know what I'd said in the interview, and I said I didn't remember. When the
interview was concluded, I was taken back to the detention centre to wait for
the decision.
About
thirty minutes later, at approximately 2.15pm, David called to say that he'd
been informed that I was being denied entry to the UK because they believed I
would overstay if allowed entry. Why they'd tell him before me is beyond my
comprehension, and it should have been me telling my husband, not the other way
around. At 4.30pm, the Immigration Officer returned and told me that they are
aware that I have spoken to my husband and that I know I'm being refused entry
to the UK with no right of appeal. Shortly after this, I was told that I would
be taken to Colnbrook Immigration Removal Centre at 5pm.
My
bags and I were escorted to a waiting van, where I was told to get inside. The
van has windows but no door handle on the inside, and a glass pane between the
driver and detainee areas with a small window that they open to talk to you..
After a trip of around five minutes, I was transferred to a different van and
we went on our way. When we picked up another detainee around an hour into the
journey, we were taken out, searched and made to wait in another holding area.
The bathroom facilities had no toilet seat and was a tiny room. Upon leaving
this facility, we were again searched, and put back in the van before
continuing the journey.
At
around 9pm, we arrived at our new location. That's right, four hours from
Gatwick to just outside Heathrow, a trip that usually takes around an hour at
most,.where we're told to sit and wait. I asked permission to call my husband,
which they allowed, and they also gave me a number for him to be able to call
me back.. I told him I hoped he at least knew where I was, and to go back home
to Wales as I was being put on a flight the next day..
We
had a nurse on site who was not happy about my blood pressure being so high
(Gee, I wonder why idiot!), so I was taken upstairs by elevator while the other
detainees took the stairs. At 11.30pm, I was finally finished processing and as
I'd been awake thirty-two hours already and my blood pressure was high, I took
a shower and went to bed in my cell. The shower doors barely cover anything and
the water kept going off every few minutes, but it was better than nothing. Now
to sleep. Yeah, right! I started being sick every fifteen to twenty minutes.
During
processing on arrival, you're fingerprinted and photographed again, and have a
chance to get clothes and toiletries from your bags, but nothing that could be
used as a weapon or has a camera. While in detention center was told could get
access to my luggage at anytime if needed things out of it. When I found out I
was staying the extra day asked if could get things out of my luggage to send
home with David was told yes just gives us a few minutes. 5 hours later when Dave arrived still no
luggage kept getting told they are really busy and you have to be patient. I realize I am not the only person there but
seems to me that as Colbrook is a MALE facility with a small are for females,
anything the ladies want/need does not happen until after the men have
everything they need or want. Only 2% of occupants at this facility are female,
and they have over 400 men located at this facility.
At
3am, UKBA called the unit (Sahara Unit was where I was in Colnbrook) and told
them to get me ready for transport back to Gatwick. Are they kidding? The guard
told them I was sick, but the person they spoke with didn't seem to care, and
that I was going to be put on a plane. What's the rush, my flight doesn't leave
until 12pm (noon), nine hours away. The guard contacted the duty nurse, who
eventually came and declared to whoever they phoned that I was not fit to travel.
The nurse was informed that I was to see the doctor first thing in the morning.
I was finally allowed to get back to sleep around 4am and slept until 9am.
The
Removal Centre has set meals times, and you are required to show up for them
regardless. They also do head counts three times a day where you have to be in
your cells while they do it, then wait to be released again.
When
I woke up, I asked if I could have my
medication (part of the reason I'm sick is because I haven't taken any in
nearly forty-four hours by this time). I'm told that I have to wait until I see
the doctor (you're still kidding me, right!). I saw the doctor, he said that I
had improved and was fit to travel, and I asked about my meds which were
sitting on his desk. He said no, I couldn't have them then, but that I'd have
them back by noon and that as I seemed to know what to do with them, I could
keep them with me from then. Lunchtime is 1pm, and I had half a bowl of soup as
I still wasn't feeling good. Meds time is 1,30pm, and I still hadn't received
mine from the doctor. I asked again, and my meds finally arrived at 2.30pm.. I
still didn't have my antacids or or pain pills, but I was told I could get
soluble paracetomol from the nurse.
I
got access to a computer, and spent the afternoon emailing hubby with the hope
that he could visit. He arrived with
just enough time for us to have a thirty-minute visit in a room with many other
people visiting detainees as well. There's not much you can talk about in
thirty minutes, and mostly is was me crying and cuddling. Everything you say
and do is recorded, your fingerprint scanned on arrival in the room, and you're
searched entering and leaving the room as a detainee.
I
again went to bed at 11.30pm, to be woken an hour later by a guard as I finally
got to sleep. I'm being moved at 1am (Seriously, you need better jokes as these
aren't funny). I was allowed to call David (who'd slept in the car nearby
overnight) and told him what was happening. I had to rely on him to arrange my
transport from the airport in Toronto to home after I landed.When the transport
arrived, they told me that my flight wasn't until 11.45am, and to make a
complaint as there was no need to have me picked up nearly eleven hours early.
I was told to make sure all my bags were there and given £2.00 in case I needed
it to make phone calls while I waited for my flight. We arrived back at Gatwick
at around 3am, I was searched again and my bags checked, before switching vans
again for the trip into the airport.
I
was again put into a holding cell, which had the air-conditioning on full and
the flourescent lighting (which gives me headaches) on all night. I wasn't
allowed to make any phone calls unless I had money (yay, and thanks for the
£2.00) but the phone wasn't accepting coins (boooo). At around 9am, I was told
that I would be flying out at 11.45am, and I was given a chance to re-sort my
bags. I again had to argue my case to be able to take my medications, but I got
to take them in the end.
I
was escorted to my flight around fifteen minutes before it left, and my
passport and paperwork handed to a stewardess who was instructed not to give it
to me until we landed in Toronto. They'd never dealt with a Canadian removed
from the UK before, so were unsure what they needed to do. I was given a seat
at the very back of the plane, and had to walk past everyone else who had
already boarded.. The stewardess was told that if we landed at any other
airport, the security there were to be given my paperwork and were to escort
me. (Excuse me!). The guards escorting me also watched until I was seated then
left as the aircraft door closed behind them.
Almost
eight hours later, I landed in Toronto (yay!) and was given my paperwork by the
stewardess. I arrived at passport control and was told that because I'd been
refused entry to the UK, I had to go see the Canadian immigration staff (Enough
of the jokes already!). It's bad enough dealing with another country's
immigration staff, but your own as well! I explained that I didn't have a lot
of time to spare as I had buses to catch, and was told that my immigration
status was more important than my bus issue. I walked away, but had to return
for my passport, which I hadn't been given back to me. The passport guy was
dealing with someone else now, and as I waited, a security guard came up and
told me I couldn't wait there. I told her I wasn't leaving without my passport
unless the Passport Control officer was taking it to immigration for me. After
a few minutes, he said he wasn't taking it to immigration, and gave me back my
passport. Before escorting me towards Immigration.
At
Canadian Immigration, I spoke with a nice male Immigration Officer who asked
why I'd been refused entry. I told him why, and he was shocked. He said that as
a Canadian Citizen, I am entitled to enter the UK for up to six months without
needing a visa. He released my file and told me I was free to go, but the delay
had caused me to miss my bus. I called David to let him know I'd landed ok,
then caught the next bus thirty minutes later. This one was late due to
traffic, and by the time we reached the coach terminal, I'd just missed the
last bus of the day to where I was going to.
I
phoned David to let him know what happened, then I managed to get a ticket for
the first bus the following morning, and figured I may as well try and get
comfortable for the evening. I made one last call to David before he went to
bed to let him know I had my bus ticket, and I figured sleeping on the bus
terminal seating wouldn't be too bad. (Guess what, the bus terminal closes from
1am til 5.30am. Grrrrr!). The bus terminal security guard found somewhere to
store my bags (for a cost), and I went outside to find a bench to sleep on. In
the early hours, I found a McDonalds that was opening, and I got myself
breakfast before heading back to the bus terminal as it opened. I called David
to let him know how the night went, and to admit that I would have agreed to
his idea to spend the night in a local
hostel if I'd known the bus terminal closed at night. No-one had told me when I
bought my ticket that the terminal closes either, nor are there signs that I
saw.
At
9.30am, with my bags returned, I caught my bus, and around three hours later I
arrived in the same place I'd left on Monday. As this was a Friday, I've spent
most of the last ninety-six hours stuck in buses, aircraft, detention cells and
secure transport vans. It's a good job I'm not claustrophobic! My brother
picked me up from the bus stop, and we went back to his place where I finally
got to sleep for thirteen hours later that evening. I'm still not sleeping or
eating properly a week later.
I
was made to feel a criminal, that I’d done something wrong, even though the
Immigration Officer told me I hadn’t. If I’d done nothing wrong, why was I
refused entry to be with my husband?
Dee.
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