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Of human
bondage
Las Vegas is the new
hub for modern-day slavery, a sinister business in which people
are the currency
BY EMMILY BRISTOL,
Las Vegas City Life
PHOTO BY BILL HUGHES
Noi was lucky. Her
teeth didn't rot. She didn't have to pull them out, as she had
seen some of the other women do. It was a desperate move to stop
at least some of the pain in their lives.
Like the others in the
El Monte, Calif., sweatshop, she worked every day for 18 hours
hunched over a sewing machine and then would go to sleep --
among the "rats, cockroaches, flies and lice." She
could never leave. Her only food source was to buy nearly rancid
food from her boss and captor.
"We lived on the
second floor and worked on the first floor. We were locked in
and not allowed to go out for anything," Noi wrote in a
testimonial she gave to the nonprofit Coalition to Abolish
Slavery & Trafficking (CAST) in Los Angeles. "I
realized later that I had been trapped. There were security
guards and barbed wire. We were controlled all the time. It was
completely unexpected because my dream was that the United
States would be a free country. I thought that people were
allowed to go anywhere, rather than be trapped like that. I
heard from the owner that black people or Hispanic people would
rape us if we tried to go outside the fence."
Noi was one of dozens
of victims of human trafficking who were discovered when a
California law enforcement task force raided the El Monte
sweatshop in 1995. The scandal of Third World-style sweatshops
right here in America, sending out goods with "Made in
America" labels, shocked people in this country. Many of
the victims, all women, had been exhaustively sewing American
brand-name garments for up to seven years for little or no pay.
Some had not been let outside ever during their time at the
factory.
Like most people
trafficked, the sweatshop workers were lured to the job because
they saw it as a way to make money for their desperately poor
families back home. It wasn't until they reached American soil
that they learned otherwise.
CAST was formed
following the discovery of the El Monte sweatshop. The
organization helps provide services and advocacy for victims.
No passport. No money.
And no ability to speak the language. Victims are trapped in a
system of what many call modern slavery.
"I think it's
clearer. There's no blurring the lines about what we're talking
about [when we call it modern slavery]," says UNLV
sociology professor Kate Hausbeck, who studies the issue.
And this slavery is
quietly growing in America. From suburban houses to condemned
buildings, humans of all races are being sold or tricked into
involuntary servitude and the majority of Americans have no
idea.
Sweatshops,
agriculture, construction, landscaping, domestic work,
restaurants and sex work (from prostitution to illegal massage
parlors to underground sex shows). All of these industries and
others are touched by this form of slavery. The stories are the
stuff of nightmares -- brutality, betrayal and fear. It's
convenient to imagine this happens only in distant lands to
people we'll never see, but it's right here in America. It's
right here in Las Vegas.
In February the U.S.
Department of Health and Human Services announced that Las Vegas
is one of 17 cities suspected of being a hotbed for human
trafficking. A high level of growth, an increasing immigrant
population and an economy built on tourism and entertainment
make Las Vegas a prime location for the crime.
"We think it's a
community that has a serious trafficking problem," says
Steven Wagner, director of the HHS human trafficking program.
"We're functioning more on intuition on this. We have no
idea how many people are caught up in this at any one
time."
Who are these people
who have been reduced to economic currency? How do we remove the
veil from our eyes and see what is happening in our own back
yards? How do we end it?
Broken down to its
components, whether it's called modern slavery or human
trafficking, it is an intricate system of manipulation and lies
perpetrated by people who have revoked their citizenship to
humanity.
"It may take a
certain amount of sadism to be a human trafficker, but this is a
crime of economics. It's not done to satisfy that sadism,"
Wagner says. "It's an economic crime. It's using somebody
for financial gain."
Human trafficking is
not the same as smuggling. It is not the same as regular
prostitution. It is not the same as the poor people who work the
migrant labor trails across the United States.
According to the
Department of Health and Human Services, smuggling is when a
person consents to allow another person, often called a
"coyote," to bring him across the border, usually for
a set fee. Once the transaction is completed, the smuggled
person can freely go about his life and usually does not see the
coyote again.
People who are victims
of human trafficking do not have to be physically moved to be
trafficked. The victims either do not consent to their
situations or the situation they agree to becomes null and void
as their trafficker changes the circumstances to generate
illicit profits from the victim's exploitation, according to HHS.
In one of the most
common scenarios, a trafficker will publish an advertisement in
a foreign country for domestic, construction, manufacturing or
agriculture work in America. The person who replies to the ad is
then falsely told that he will have a time-specific contract of
service for a set price and that his expenses (room, board,
airfare) will be paid for up front. Once the person makes the
agreement and finds himself in America, the trafficker forces
him to pay for the airfare and other expenses, usually holds him
captive (when not working), forbids any outside human contact,
prevents him from learning English, does not give him money
promised, as well as other abuses.
"It's fear more
than physical bondage that ties these people to their
captors," Wagner says.
From 800,000 to 900,000
people are internationally trafficked each year, with an
estimated 18,000 to 20,000 coming to this country, according to
the State Department. After drug dealing, human trafficking is
tied with arms dealing as the second-largest criminal industry
in the world -- and is the fastest-growing, according to HHS.
Most victims of
trafficking are from Asia, Central and South America and Eastern
Europe. The parts of Southeast Asia destroyed by the tsunamis
earlier this year have opened up an even greater market for
human trafficking in that region.
Lucita, another
trafficking victim who received help from CAST, was duped into
slavery by another common method -- recruitment. Traffickers
often use family members or victims to recruit new people into
the system. Sixty to 70 percent of victims are women; a common
element in their stories is they have found themselves in dire
poverty and are often the sole breadwinner for their families.
Forced to marry her
rapist at age 14, Lucita ended up back at home after suffering
much violence at her husband's hands. She lived in a house full
of siblings, her parents and her infant daughter. Despite
everyone working as hard as possible, there was never enough to
eat, Lucita says in a written testimonial provided by CAST.
"My daughter was
getting sick and my mother was ill. That was when the recruiter
approached me. It was a woman who was a neighbor," says
Lucita, who is from Mexico. "She said that if I went to Los
Angeles, I would have more money and I could help my parents.
She told me I was going to work inside of a house where men come
to pick up women.
"She told me that
it would only be for three months, and that they would pay for
everything. They would pay for the airfare and everything would
be fine," Lucita says. "She promised me $15 per
client, and said that I could keep tips as well. I decided to go
because of my poverty. ... The recruiter said that I
couldn't back out; she said that I would have to pay for the
ticket. I couldn't earn enough money to pay her back; I could
hardly make enough money to buy food for my daughter."
Lucita and two other
girls were moved across the border by a coyote, paid by the
traffickers. Then she was taken from Phoenix to a house in
Pomona, Calif., to work as a prostitute. The windows and doors
were barred. She slept in the same bed she worked in. She was
not allowed to speak to the other girls and the whole group had
to remain very quiet to avoid discovery by neighbors.
"We were under
constant threats that if we stepped outside, the police would
pick us up; they would beat us up and throw us in jail,"
Lucita says.
At the end of three
months the other girls Lucita had come to the house with were
sent back to Mexico, but she was forced to stay because she
brought in a good profit. Eventually Lucita and the other
trafficking victims were discovered during a police raid.
"They assume
everything is going to be legit," says CAST communications
and policy director Namju Cho. Usually victims have no
understanding of the language, American society or its legal
system, Cho says. When victims arrive at CAST and other service
agencies across the country, they have to be taught not only
English but other life skills, such as how to use a bus, how to
shop in an American grocery store and rules of crossing the
street.
More often than not,
the traffickers are the same nationality as the people who are
being trafficked, but not always. Given Kachepa, now 18, was
offered by Texas-based missionaries an education, money,
clothing as well as a school for his village in Zambia if he
performed in an a cappella choir. Then 11 years old, Kachepa was
an orphan and thought the opportunity was almost too good to be
true.
"I was excited
because at the time I had no parents," Kachepa says in a
recent telephone interview.
Kachepa was one of
about a dozen boys brought over to Texas from Africa in 1998.
The missionary business, TTT: Partners in Education Inc., billed
itself as a Christian organization and relentlessly toured the
choir in churches throughout the country. Sometimes the boys
would have to perform six one-hour concerts a day. But the boys
were never paid, which meant no money went back home and no
school was built in their village. At one point, Kachepa and
some of the other boys were forced to dig a pool for their
captors -- by hand.
"Your voice would
be tired, your legs, everything," Kachepa says.
The Christian group
eventually was exposed as a trafficking organization by what was
formerly known as the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization
Service, renamed U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE)
in 2003. Kachepa and the other boys from his village were not
deported, something many trafficking victims fear. Many of the
choir boys were taken in by local families.
Just after Kachepa's
experience, the Trafficking Victims Protection Act of 2000 was
passed. The legislation makes trafficking a federal crime. Its
major points are to eliminate both domestic and foreign
trafficking, protect victims and prosecute traffickers. The act
was formulated as a way to enable federal prosecution of these
crimes as well as establish ways to help those who have been
victimized. Offering victims protection from their captors, who
often threaten violence against the victims and their families,
is key to discovering and prosecuting these criminals.
"We can't count on
the victim to come forward," says Wagner, who explains that
many times the victims are afraid to come forward because of the
lies they've been told about police and threats of deportation.
Under TVPA, trafficking victims are extended the same benefits
and services as refugees, including a special visa so they are
not deported.
But critics say that
while TVPA is a positive step, it's not focused enough on
helping the victims. CAST's Cho says that debate over whether
people will try to assist non-trafficked illegal aliens has
placed a high burden of proof on victims.
"I don't know why
victims of trafficking are held to such a higher standard,"
says Cho.
Many victims realize
that their circumstances are bad but don't know that there is
any way to get help. This is why HHS has launched a public
education campaign about human trafficking. As the public --
especially service providers such as police, health care, court
and immigration workers -- learns how to spot trafficking
victims, they can contact authorities on victims' behalf. The
agency's hotline is 888-3737-888.
In Las Vegas two new
human trafficking service coalitions have formed in the past
year. The Nevada Human Trafficking Working Group focuses more on
prosecution and includes agencies such as the Nevada U.S.
attorney's office, the Federal Bureau of Investigation and U.S.
Department of Labor.
"Though at this
time, the number of reported cases of human trafficking appears
low in Nevada, all indications are that there are more victims
who have not been identified," says local U.S. Attorney
Daniel G. Bogden.
The Nevada U.S.
attorney's office has prosecuted four cases of human trafficking
in the state over the past five years. There are no new cases
currently under investigation. The office's highest profile
local case was the 2001 sentencing of five Asian conspirators
trafficking women from Asia into the country for prostitution,
known as Operation Jade Blade.
FBI Special Agent David
Schrom would neither confirm nor deny that there are any current
local human trafficking investigations. The agent says the Las
Vegas field office is in the process of determining how much
trafficking is occurring in Southern Nevada. "We're still
trying to get our bearings here in Las Vegas," Schrom says.
"We have not had a problem in Las Vegas,
historically."
Metro is involved in
both local coalitions. Sgt. Gil Shannon of Metro's vice section
specializing in juvenile prostitution says there's been a marked
increase in arrests. In 2004, 207 juveniles, mostly girls, were
arrested on prostitution, soliciting and/or loitering charges.
As many as 50 percent of those juveniles were brought by a
trafficker across state lines.
"That's the
highest it's ever been since we've been keeping track,"
Shannon says. Metro began keeping records on such cases in 1994.
Those who work on these
kinds of cases often find it hard to relate stories from the
field because they don't like to think about the victim's
suffering. One case that has stayed with Shannon was when he
brought in a girl who had been working at a local hotel. Her
pimp was forcing her to work for him by holding hostage the last
gift her dead mother gave to her, a stuffed animal. The girl had
worked for the trafficker long enough to have reached a status
of loyalty among the other girls. When the pimp was arrested,
the girl got her stuffed animal back.
"They've been sold
a dream and told a lie," Shannon says.
Wagner says Las Vegas'
sexually oriented adult entertainment makes the city a priority
for federal scrutiny. "We think that [sexual entertainment]
suggests there's a problem with human trafficking."
In February HHS
announced the Las Vegas Rescue & Restore Coalition, made up
mostly of more than two dozen, local, nonprofit organizations.
Rescue & Restore is involved with helping to identify
victims and providing recovery services. HHS gave WestCare a
$150,000 grant to do street outreach and to help fund a homeless
youth shelter, already in existence. WestCare already has had a
team since 1998 of two street outreach workers; they patrol
various parts of the valley to work with homeless youth, and
with the grant they will add two more full-time workers.
Kevin Morss, the
WestCare street outreach coordinator, says that in his work with
homeless youth he comes across a lot of trafficked prostitutes.
"A lot of them act
like adults. They act very knowledgeable on the outside but you
start talking to them and they are just kids on the
inside," Morss says of the prostitutes, usually girls 13 to
17 years old. "It gets to the point where you try not to
think about it too much because it just eats you up."
There is no shelter
specifically for trafficking victims in Southern Nevada. But the
Salvation Army, a member of the Rescue & Restore Coalition,
has volunteered to assist any victims who are found.
"It's a hidden
suffering. It's not one you see in the glitz and lights of Las
Vegas," says Las Vegas-based Salvation Army Major William
Raihl. "It is at the depth and horror of human need."
Until recently,
agencies in Southern Nevada had been caught off guard by the
rise in human trafficking cases. Indeed, nationwide numbers on
trafficking are, at best, estimates because of a lack of
reporting and the invisibility of this crime. One recent study
probing the number and type of trafficking cases in America had
to rely, in part, on media reports, which tend to focus on cases
involving sex work.
"It is really more
about what types of trafficking law enforcement seeks to
bust," says Cho. In her work helping victims she's seen
more domestic servants than any other kind of trafficking.
"Even more than sex trafficking. They are even more
invisible."
Part of the problem is
that trafficking often occurs on the back of other crimes, such
as smuggling. While some agencies are focused on stemming the
tide of illegal workers coming across the border, they are
missing the number of American-born citizens trafficked across
state lines.
Another problem is that
jurisdictional disputes sometimes bog down the system. There are
laws against human trafficking at the international level (the
United Nations), national level and sometimes state and local
levels.
Turf wars among
agencies don't help, either. A spokesperson for the U.S.
attorney's office says that HHS refused to attend meetings or a
press conference to announce the Nevada Human Trafficking
Working Group and, in turn, it was not invited to the press
conference unveiling Rescue & Restore.
It's hard to keep the
faith when working to fight human trafficking. Traffickers
facing prosecution often organize mob-style hits on a victim's
family. Cho recalls one trafficker who paid to have a victim's
family's house burned down the day before giving testimony in
court. And, unfortunately, traffickers aren't stuck in jail for
long.
CAST client Khai had to
serve her captors as a domestic and restaurant worker for nine
years, often working 20-hour days for no pay and little food.
She was forced to serve on her knees while her captor jabbed her
finger into her forehead and told her she was worth nothing,
according to a testimonial she gave CAST.
"Except at the
restaurant, we were trained as a habit to serve her on our
knees," Khai says. "If she sat in a chair, we sat on
the floor. We always had to be lower than her."
Khai's trafficker may
serve only six years, or 85 percent of her sentence.
IIn some ways every
American is tainted by the spoils of human trafficking. After El
Monte, it's hard to have faith in the "Made in
America" tag in our clothes. The construction industry is
littered with tales of misconduct by underhanded vendors and
subcontractors. Who's working in the back of your favorite
restaurant? Who picked the produce you bought at the grocery
store?
"Are we
responsible? How do we make sure that the things we buy aren't
made through trafficked labor?" Cho asks, noting that the
answers are hard to find.
Even the churchgoers
who enjoyed listening to the all-boys choir that Kachepa sang in
had no idea what was going on behind the scenes.
Perhaps hope has to
come from the victims themselves.
"Sometimes, I
guess in life, you go through hard things, obstacles that you
have to go through," says Kachepa.
Or as Noi says,
"Even though I have some damage in my life, I won [the El
Monte workers won a $4 million civil judgment against the
retailers who contracted with the sweatshop], and things are not
so bad after all. I think that to survive and have a good life,
you will always have some bumps, chipping and shaking. You can't
have life smooth until the end -- that is impossible."
Emmily Bristol is a CityLife
staff writer. She can be reached at 871-6780 ext. 344 or ebristol@lvpress.com.
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