Colombian mom snagged in custody case nightmare

Adrienne Packer and Birusk Tugan

Sunday, Aug. 6, 2000 | 9:08 a.m.

The marital fight one March afternoon was bad, but it would be months before Edith Douraid learned just how bad.

When she and her 2-year-old son, Ali, returned home that day from the library and a lunch stop at McDonald's, her husband, Aziz Douraid, was livid because she had taken their truck. He pulled her to the ground by her hair, beat her and forced Ali to kick her, she said.

But the physical abuse was nothing compared to the year of emotional trauma she was about to face.

The following morning the doorbell rang while Edith and Ali were playing. It was Immigration and Naturalization Service agents who had been tipped off that an illegal alien lived at the home.

Edith, who was born in Colombia, suspects her husband turned her in as punishment for arguing with him. Aziz knew the rules -- the Moroccan-born man had gone through the legal process to obtain a work permit.

The 36-year-old woman was arrested and her husband was called to pick up their child.

"Ali was still in his pajamas and I didn't want to leave him undressed," Edith said. "I dressed my son and hugged him really hard. I knew that would be the last time I would ever see him again."

That day, March 23, 1999, Edith became part of an alarming statistic: Each year 16,000 children in America are abducted or concealed by a parent and taken overseas, according to the U.S. Justice Department.

After three days in jail, she returned home knowing her son probably wasn't going to be there. All she really expected to be able to do was pick up her passport and some family photos.

The front door was locked and nobody answered. Knowing a back door was broken, she got into the home from the rear of the house. Once inside, her home looked just like it had when she was taken to jail. Her clothes were in the closet, the same pictures were on the wall and the furniture was all in place.

She was startled when a friend of her husband's appeared in her bedroom. The woman told Edith the home was no longer hers and neither were the furnishings, clothes or keepsakes. Aziz had sold it all.

The woman then called police and had Edith arrested for breaking into the house.

Edith later discovered that when she signed documents that her husband set before her in 1997, she had unknowingly signed a power of attorney over to him. And now he had control of all of their property, she said.

Edith believes her son, Ali, is somewhere in the North African country of Morocco with her husband and 11-year-old son, Omar. Omar was flown to Morocco by his father, nine months before Ali disappeared. Aziz told her he wanted Omar to spend the summer with his grandparents.

On the sidewalk in front of McCarran International Airport, she handed Omar, then 9, a suitcase stuffed with coloring books, his favorite gummy worms and the Rollerblades his father took away as punishment months before.

At summer's end Aziz Douraid returned to Las Vegas. Omar did not.

Edith has spoken to Omar once since he left. On his 11th birthday she was able to blurt out a happy birthday wish before the phone connection was lost.

"It has been a nightmare," she said last week, gazing at a photo of a beaming Omar proudly sporting his Paradise Valley Soccer Club jersey. "I wish someone would shake me and wake me up."

Court woes

Edith Douraid now spends her days bouncing between immigration court, where she is hoping to gain citizenship, and Family Court, where she is trying to win back her children. She retells her horrifying tale to judges and attorneys, but it doesn't make it any easier.

"You talk about it so much, but it doesn't go away," she said. "It always comes back."

Each time Edith steps into Clark County Family Court, tears stream down her cheek. Her voice quivers. There is always that chance her children might appear. So far, they haven't.

Earlier this summer, she thought she had a chance to be reunited with her sons.

On June 1 Aziz Douraid appeared before Family Court Judge William Voy to fight a restraining order his wife had filed. The custody battle was on, the children were in Morocco, but the judge found no reason to arrest Aziz.

Despite arguments that he would leave the country, Voy ordered Aziz to return with the two boys to the courtroom in July for a second hearing. He hasn't been seen since.

"That day I felt like I was holding my kids' hands," Edith said, sobbing. "I knew when they let him go that day, that was it. He's going to run, and he won't show up again."

After another failed appearance, Edith was granted custody of her two sons, an empty victory since she cannot leave the country until she secures a green card, a work visa for nonresidents.

At another court date in July, Aziz Douraid sent word that his father would not allow him and his two sons to leave Morocco.

Lizzie Hatcher, the Las Vegas attorney representing Aziz, said she cannot comment on the case because it is ongoing.

The prolonged and emotional case is clearly grating on Edith's attorney and the judge.

"That's a flaky excuse his father is somehow preventing him from bringing the kids," Voy said during the most recent hearing. "I ain't buying that one."

James Wagner, Edith's attorney, intends to look into filing criminal kidnapping charges against Aziz. To maintain his green card, he must enter the United States every six months and with criminal charges pending, he would be snagged at the port of entry.

That gives Edith only a sliver of hope. She knows her husband and said he will never return.

Edith keeps busy writing letters to state and federal officials. She has called the U.S. Embassy and the Colombian Embassy. She logs every court date, every phone call and every piece of information she is able to collect.

She won't accept that her only choice might be to wait until Omar turns 18 and comes to find her.

"Do you know how hard it would be to wait seven years?" she asked. "I can't sit and wait seven years. I have to keep trying. I can't live with myself if I don't even try. I need to show them I care for them."

Not alone

Edith is hardly alone.

The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children in Alexandria, Va., is helping five mothers and one father whose children were taken to Morocco by their former spouses; in 99 percent of the kidnapping cases involving the Middle East the abductor is the father, center officials say.

And there is little hope those children will be returned, according to Leyla Ben Debba, the center's international resource coordinator in charge of Middle Eastern countries.

"We just don't get any help from those countries," Ben Debba said. "It is extremely frustrating with no treaty."

Morocco has not signed the Hague Convention on the Civil Aspects of International Child Abduction, a treaty that provides for the prompt return of children to the country from which they were wrongfully taken.

There are no other international or biliteral treaties between Morocco and the United States, which signed the Hague convention in 1988.

And there are other factors that might make it even more difficult for Edith Douraid to get her children back.

Morocco does not recognize dual citizenship. Children with Moroccan fathers automatically become Moroccan citizens regardless of where they were born.

And if a criminal warrant is issued for Aziz Douraid's arrest, there is little chance he will be extradited to the United States. The Moroccan government does not extradite citizens involved in custody battles.

The country's Islamic family law grants custody to the mother (until a certain age) and guardianship to the father. But, Ben Debba warned, it is simple for the father to disqualify the mother and strip custody from her.

"By finding two witnessses who can testify at court that the woman has done something morally wrong, the father can easily take the child from the mother," she said.

Ben Debba has witnessed a new trend since she started working at the center two years ago.

"In the beginning the bulk of the cases involved American mothers marrying foreign nationals. But the recent trend has been couples of the same ethnic and religious origin and their children going through this."

The most recent example of that trend involves another Las Vegas woman. Naomi Nakhamia is looking for her four children who were taken to Uganda in June 1999 by her former husband. Nakhamia, who also is Ugandan, was granted sole custody of the children after her divorce.

The center is helping 27 Nevadan parents -- 20 of whom are Las Vegans -- find their abducted children.

Since the nonprofit center opened in 1984, it has worked more than 73,000 cases of missing and exploited children in the United States and abroad. It has found 40,000 of them.

The bulk of the cases are handled by the State Department. It has about 1,000 open cases at any time.

While the State Department only accepts cases of American children, the center does not make that distinction.

"When you say parental abduction the response is 'Oh, how bad can it be?' It surely is not as bad as being abducted by a stranger. But children who are abducted by a parent lose the sense of security, the sense of identity."

Those children are lied to most of the time, she said.

"The parent either tells them that the other parent doesn't love them or is dead," Ben Debba said. "The difference between parents should remain between them. The child should be given the opportunity to have access to both parents and their respective cultures or else the trauma will be lifelong for those children."

Difficult conditions

Edith and Aziz Douraid met under less than storybook conditions.

In 1986 Edith was captured sneaking across the U.S. border into Arizona. She left Colombia for the United States hoping to make money to send to her impoverished family.

Aziz had been caught working on a student visa.

The two became friends while incarcerated in a Las Vegas immigration prison. They resolved their legal problems with the INS and two years later they married.

Together they started a landscaping business. Aziz Douraid assured his wife he was working on her green card paperwork.

In 1991 Edith was forced to take over the landscaping business after her husband was badly burned in a barbecue accident. She did cleaning and landscape work at 60 homes each week, bringing home $3,500, which she handed over to her husband.

Two years later he caught her sending a $20 bill to her parents in Colombia. He had her arrested and deported. Eventually he brought her back, but it was just the start of a circle of abuse, she said.

Aziz was a tyrant in their home. Omar wasn't allowed any friends. He was hidden from Edith for three months when he was 4 years old -- placed in the spare bedroom of a friend's home. Edith then became pregnant with Ali and rebuffed her husband's suggestion to have the baby aborted.

Aziz wanted to move back to Morocco to marry a second wife, Edith said. She agreed to move with him and was packing boxes when she was arrested by the INS in 1999.

"What hurts more is why didn't I leave him when I still had my kids," she said. "I believe when you marry, you marry for life. I told him I would have moved to Morocco."

Edith knows she wouldn't have any hope if it weren't for a couple for whom she did housework. Bill and Sandy Stanton were the first to be called when she was in prison and Ali was taken away.

The Las Vegas couple have since shuttled her to court dates, used connections in town to help her move forward and even opened their home to her.

"I got caught up with what this man had done to her," Bill Stanton said. "To take a step back and ignore what is going on is also a sin. We're not here for thanks, we're here to help her find her kids."

Edith said the Stantons are the only people who came to her rescue. Social service agencies were hesitant to help because she is an illegal alien.

"I realize not everybody in the U.S. will think the way I think," Stanton said. "Forget that she is an illegal alien, this is about what is happening to a human being."

The Stantons have lectured Edith about breaking the law. She realizes that she entered the country illegally and could very well be deported. But she has since pursued the proper channels and hopes immigration officials will be compassionate when considering her case.

"If they deport me to my country, there is no chance I will ever see my kids again," she said.

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