By Dan Horn
The Cincinnati Enquirer

When the three Estonian women finished talking to federal authorities in Covington two years ago, they thought they had a deal:

In exchange for helping the U.S. government prosecute their former boss, they could remain in the United States and eventually become citizens.

Elvi Parmo, Susi Ene and Marie Kutt claim the government promised them residency in exchange for their testimony. (Michael E. Keating photo) | ZOOM |

All they had to do was tell how their boss had illegally brought them to America and forced them to work as maids, seven days a week, 12 hours a day.

"They made nice promises," one of the women, Mare Kutt, said of her meeting with federal investigators. "I believed them."

But after their boss was sent to prison, Ms. Kutt and her friends got a letter from authorities telling them to get out of the country. Immigration officials, who deny promising the women anything, are expected to begin deportation proceedings soon.

The Estonians are now mired in an unusual legal battle that challenges the way the government uses foreign-born informants to pursue international criminals and terrorists.

The case is important - both to immigrants and the government - because informants like the three Estonians are valuable sources of information about everything from money-laundering schemes to terrorist "sleeper cells."

In the wake of the Sept. 11 attacks, Congress has approved new rules to encourage immigrants to report crimes, and Attorney General John Ashcroft has publicly suggested cooperation might be rewarded with citizenship.

The problem, critics say, is that the law offers no guarantees.

They say immigrants, many of whom speak little English, are easily confused or misled into thinking they will help themselves by helping authorities.

"It's a recipe for disaster," said Ben Johnson, spokesman for the American Immigration Lawyers Association in Washington, D.C. "The government's focus is on getting the best prosecutorial result, not necessarily the best result for the immigrants."

The Estonian women - Ms. Kutt, Susi Ene and Elvi Parmo - filed a federal lawsuit last month accusing the Immigration and Naturalization Service of plying them for information and then casting them aside.

The INS denies the accusation, but the women's lawyers say assurances must have been given. Why else, they argue, would their clients have risked deportation and possibly their lives by coming forward?

"These people put a lot of faith in our country. They went out on a limb," says one of their lawyers, Firooz Namei. "If (immigrants) see that the government reneges on its promises, who else is going to come forward? Who is going to trust the government?"

A call to authorities

The Estonian women say their first mistake was trusting Alexandre Grunichev, the Russian who brought them to America to work for him. They say they responded to his newspaper ads offering jobs in the United States.

The ads promised a place to live, a good wage and a visa that would allow them to work legally.

Instead, they say, they were housed in an apartment with 10 other immigrants and were required to work up to 12 hours a day cleaning homes and hotels for about $5.50 an hour.

"I knew I didn't want this," said Ms. Ene, who arrived with the others three years ago.

At the urging of an American they met on the job, the three women agreed to talk to INS agents.

They say they were afraid because they thought Mr. Grunichev or his friends overseas might retaliate against them if they returned home to Estonia.

They also knew by then that their visas did not allow them to work legally in America.

They say they met with two INS agents, Tom Perryman and Lisa Teal, who promised they could stay in America if they helped with the investigation. Their American friend, Beulah Duddey, has given a sworn statement on the Estonians' behalf, saying she heard the agents promise the women "they would be able to remain in the country (and) get their green cards."

"They said, `You got to help us and we'll help you,'" Ms. Ene said.

Mr. Perryman declined comment and Ms. Teal could not be reached. But INS officials deny they promised to do anything more than grant the women "deferred action" status that allowed them to remain for a short time.

"We don't promise residency," said Jerry Phillips, officer in charge of the INS office in Louisville. "We can't."

Mr. Phillips would not discuss specifics of the case, but he said INS agents have no authority to promise informants more than a short stay in the United States pending the outcome of the criminal case. "If we use them as a witness, we try to get them to stick around," he said. "But once the case is disposed of, they usually leave."

Ms. Ene and the others say that was never their plan. Although they were not fluent in English or familiar with U.S. law, the women say they were certain the INS had offered to let them stay.

But after Mr. Grunichev was sentenced to 18 months in prison for harboring aliens, they each received a letter from the INS.

"You are no longer needed as a federal witness," the letter said. "You are required to depart the United States."

Confusion is common

Immigration lawyers and advocacy groups say misunderstandings are common when immigrants and law enforcement officers get together.

Law enforcement wants to get information needed to prevent a crime or to get a conviction. The immigrants want to protect themselves from retribution and deportation.

Because those needs are so different - and because immigration law is so confusing - experts say someone is bound to make a mistake.

"There is not only a possibility but a probability of someone totally misunderstanding what is going to happen," said David Leopold, an immigration lawyer in Cleveland who teaches at Case Western Reserve University.

"These statutes are draconian," he said. "It's difficult enough for a lawyer to understand this stuff, let alone someone who doesn't speak English."

He said an even bigger problem is that no matter how willing an immigrant may be to help, the law provides few options that would allow the informant to remain in the country.

One option is the S-Visa, known as the "snitch visa," which allows those who provide "critical, reliable information" about organized crime or terrorists to stay in America.

But only 200 S-Visas are available every year, and each must be approved by the Department of Justice. Immigrants may believe they qualify - and federal agents may think so, too - but approval rarely comes until long after the immigrant has told his story and risked deportation.

And that means investigators may end up making promises with good intentions, only to learn later they can't keep them.

"It's one thing to dangle the possibility to people in a very general way," said Linton Joaquin, director of litigation for the National Immigration Law Center in Los Angeles. "It's another to follow through."

He said a recent case in Arizona shows how misunderstandings can arise not only among immigrants, but also among federal authorities.

In that case, the FBI told a drug informant she would not be deported to Colombia because they would recommend against it. But the INS, noting that she was here illegally, initiated deportation proceedings anyway.

Fearing she would be killed if she returned home, a federal judge intervened last month and stopped her deportation.

"By cooperating," Mr. Joaquin said, "she ended up in a worse situation than if she had remained silent."

Few choices, little hope

The three Estonians say the same is true for them.

They say their decision to cooperate has led to threats against their families back home and has made them fear for their own safety.

But the law offers them little hope.

A federal judge ruled last week that he does not have jurisdiction to hear their complaint. Instead, they will have to plead their case to an immigration judge at an administrative hearing.

While they wait for a hearing, they will lose their temporary work permits, forcing them to return home or to stay here and work illegally.

"The INS renewed their work visa several times when they needed them (to testify)," said Candace Crouse, one of their lawyers. "Now they're trying to boot them out."

No matter how the case ends, Mr. Leopold said it shows why immigration laws need to change.

On one hand, he said, the government is more zealous than ever in seeking informants to help the War on Terror. On the other, the law offers few incentives to potential informants.

Mr. Leopold said he was especially concerned when Attorney General Ashcroft and other officials began urging immigrants to turn informants after the Sept. 11 attacks.

"People who have the courage to make the right choice deserve to be welcomed as guests into our country and perhaps to one day become fellow citizens," Mr. Ashcroft said at the time.

Those are strong words, Mr. Leopold said. But the law does not yet back them up.

"They give the impression that if you help, you can become a citizen," Mr. Leopold said. "The reality is that if you help, you can be deported."

E-mail dhorn@enquirer.com