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Opening America’s Borders Isn't Compassionate, It’s Inhumane

(The Federalist) It was more than 25 years ago that we met as I worked in a border-area emergency room, but my memory of her remains crystal-clear even today.

Her coal-black eyes were piercing and never rested. They radiated fear and hatred. They engaged anyone who moved near her, digesting and assessing, as she tried to answer the ancient question: “Friend or foe?”

Her slow, cat-like movements were like clockwork: Clench her fists, flex her arms, flex her knees, slowly test the restraints on her wrists, look at the door, look at the window, look at the officer assigned to monitor her, strain to hear the sounds in the hall. She never seemed to worry with the 18-inch incision in her abdomen. She was ready to escape at the first opportunity. She had no time for her pain.