SPRINGFIELD, Ohio, July 9 (Reuters) - Accompanied by their newborn son, Michelet and his wife arrived at the St. Vincent de Paul Community Center in Springfield, Ohio, last week looking for help from the non-profit's volunteers. They wanted to apply for a valuable document for the infant that for now seems out of reach for them as Haitian immigrants: a U.S. passport.
With their own legal status precarious, Michelet and his wife see the passport as crucial proof that their U.S.-born son is an American citizen. But they know that their son's citizenship will do nothing to stop the Trump administration from following through on its goal of deporting them - and hundreds of thousands of other Haitian immigrants - back to the violence-racked Caribbean island nation.
Michelet, who only provided his first name for fear of drawing attention from immigration agents, said he was not interested in migrating to a third country and sees his pending asylum claim as the best option for staying in the U.S.
"Moving to Canada or another country would mean starting over," said the 35-year-old, who works for a local auto parts company and came to Springfield via Chile more than two years ago. "I'm already here. I have a job and experience here."
Some migrants began exploring such contingency plans after the Department of Homeland Security said on June 27 that it would terminate the Temporary Protected Status providing legal status for half a million Haitians, effective September 2.
On July 1, a federal judge in New York blocked that DHS effort, but the Trump administration is expected to appeal. The Supreme Court already allowed a similar move to go ahead, ruling in May that the administration could end TPS protections for Venezuelans in the United States.
Initially granted to Haitians after a devastating 2010 earthquake, TPS has been extended numerous times, most recently due to gang violence and unrest that persists to this day.
White House spokesperson Abigail Jackson said in a statement that the earthquake no longer posed a risk and that ending TPS showed Trump was "keeping his promise to restore sanity to our immigration system." Eligible Haitians could pursue legal status through other means, she said.
'JESUS PUT ME HERE'
Springfield is home to an estimated 10,000 to 15,000 Haitian nationals. Working at Amazon warehouses and auto suppliers, they help drive the local economy. Predominantly Christian, many lean on their faith when talking through their deportation fears.
"I'm going to stay here. I'm not afraid," said Jean Marc, a warehouse worker in his 20s. "Jesus put me here."
Michelet's and Jean Marc's stories were typical of the dozen Haitian nationals interviewed by Reuters in Springfield last week. Of the total, eight said they were banking on asylum claims for a shot at staying in the United States. All said a third country was an unrealistic option for them.
Still, a number of migrants with pending asylum claims have been swept up in the immigration crackdown around the country and are now in detention awaiting court hearings.
The Haitians interviewed by Reuters said they remain committed to staying despite facing a torrent of threats and online hate last year triggered by false rumors on social media that Haitian nationals were eating local pets. Those claims were then repeated by Trump on the campaign trail.
Some Haitians find it hard to believe that Trump, as a former businessman, would want to deport hardworking members of society contributing to economic growth, said Casey Rollins, executive director at St. Vincent in Springfield.
"They have been in such denial about this," she said, adding that some Haitians leaned into a belief that God would take care of them or that the administration would somehow change its thinking and let them stay.
"They have this ultimate faith thing," she said.
I DON'T HAVE ANYWHERE ELSE TO GO
During an interview at the Haitian Community Help and Support Center just outside downtown Springfield, a Haitian man in his 50s lifted his collared shirt to reveal the scar from a hot iron pressed to his chest six years ago.
M.B., who only gave his initials because he was afraid of being singled out by ICE, said he did not know the men who tortured him, but believes the attack was likely related to his work for a political party out of power in Haiti at the time.
M.B., who is permitted to work for a local manufacturer under the TPS program, said he and his wife are consulting with a lawyer about their asylum claims. In his 50s, he said he did not want to uproot to somewhere else.
"This is the only other country that we have lived in besides Haiti," he said. "I don't have anywhere else to go."
Rampant gang violence in Haiti has displaced some 1.3 million people from their homes, fueling hunger and insecurity, while hospitals have shut their doors, and much of the economy, judicial system and government remain paralyzed.
I.M., a Haitian man in his 20s and a brain cancer survivor, worries he would not be able to get medications needed to sustain his life in Haiti. But he said he will not flee to a third country and would self-deport to avoid detention.
I.M. also asked to be identified by his initials, citing concerns he could be targeted by ICE.
He laughed when asked about the DHS assertion that Haiti was now stable and safe enough for Haitian migrants to return, pointing to the U.S. State Department advisory warning Americans against traveling there due to "kidnapping, crime, civil unrest, and limited health care."
"If they tell me to go September the 2nd, I will go before that just not to let people put me in handcuffs and treat me like a criminal," he told Reuters, referring to how migrants deported from the United States are often transported shackled.
Viles Dorsainvil, director at the Haitian Community Help and Support Center, said most Haitians faced limited options, without the family ties or financial resources needed to get to a third country like Canada or Brazil.
"It's like a Catch-22," he said. "It's so sad."
