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My parents named me He Shao Qiang. American tongues find this difficult to pronounce, so in this toneless land of letters and alphabets, I chose a new name for myself, something common, something simpler and less strange: I called myself “Jack.” In Memphis Tennessee, my name is Jack He.
I was a professor at Chongqing University in China. With a Master’s Degree in Management Information Systems, I came to this country to work toward a Ph.D. in Economics at the University of Memphis. I was on a full scholarship, studying the science of making choices under constraints. I received a modest stipend and worked as a part-time assistant in the research laboratory of the Ned McWherter Library. “McWherter” is not an easy name to pronounce.
In May of 1998 I returned to China and met my wife. Her name is Luo Qin, but we decided to call her “Casey,” a fine American name. I was thirty-three years-old, she was thirty, and our parents were ecstatic. By the Lord’s grace, I married a good, kind woman, lovelier than the autumn moon. Luo Qin returned to Memphis with me in the fall, and I could scarcely believe that I was starting a family.
One night in October, a student approached me and asked for my help with her studies. She could barely speak English, and I thought I saw in her something of me: a newly-arrived student who needed a friendly ear and a helping hand. We walked together to Patterson Hall, a red-brick building with tall glass windows, a favorite place of mine to study.
We went through our notes, discussed problem and solution sets, and spoke of life in China and America. I remember a note of desperation had crept into her voice when she revealed that her husband had left her. She told me she did not have enough money for tuition and asked to borrow five-hundred dollars. The situation grew awkward; I told her that I had to leave, and I quickly went home.
Six days later, the police called me: this woman claimed I tried to rape her that night. They told me that I grabbed her by the breasts, that I dragged her around the classroom, that it was so violent we disturbed several pieces of furniture. She showed her bruised thighs to the assistant dean of judicial affairs, and the dean believed her. Even though there was a lack of medical evidence and witnesses, even though I have never in my life been accused of a crime, they revoked my scholarship, my position as a research assistant, and my stipend without due process. They believed her.
They left me with no credibility, no student visa, and no income. My wife, seven months pregnant, was assaulted several weeks later by the husband of my accuser. Luo Qin was bleeding so badly she had to be hospitalized. Then, on January 28 1999, our little Mei was born. She, too, would have an American name, and I promised my daughter that she would grow up smart and strong and never know what it is to be lonely and alienated.
My little Anna Mae came into this world prematurely: the two most important people in my life were very weak and very ill. I would do anything for them, go anywhere, endure any suffering. I would gladly give my life for their health and happiness. But I had no money, no job, and no means to support a family. It made me sick.
When I learned that Mid-South Christian Services would help us take care of Anna Mae until I found work and Luo Qin got well, I thought that perhaps we had been granted this one mercy during our time here. We were introduced to the Bakers who seemed, like us, to be a good Christian family, and they offered to take care of our baby for ninety days. We would use this time to save money and send Anna Mae to my family in China until we had the means to take care of her here.
We visited often, taking pictures, grateful for the help of Jerry and Louise Baker. We asked them to arrange to have Anna Mae’s passport photo taken for her trip to China. They did not think it was necessary to send our baby into the arms of our relatives, and they proposed a solution for keeping her here. Jerry assured me that we could continue our arrangement if we granted them temporary custody.
During those ninety days, I was arrested and charged for sexual battery.
We thought it best to grant this temporary custody until I could put my life back together. We thought the Bakers would continue to welcome our visits to Anna Mae. We discovered much later that Louise, in her secret journal where she logged every one of our visits, wrote that she wanted to reduce our visiting, that she “would like to get visits to every other week … but the last two visits we could see Casey is wanting to come more ….” Why would she wish to prevent a mother from seeing her daughter?
On Anna Mae’s second birthday, Luo Qing and I had an appointment with the Bakers to take our daughter to a portrait studio for a family picture. When we arrived, Jerry and Louise claimed our baby was sick and needed a doctor, so she could not come with us. We were upset at being given yet another excuse not to see our little girl, and the Bakers called the police. They called the police to keep us away from our child.
Two years passed, and in February 2003, I was acquitted of all charges. It took almost four years of reset court dates, multiple changes in defense counsel, and eight hours of deliberations, to clear my name of any wrongdoing. Four years to convince the world that I am not a rapist, that I did not deserve to lose my job, my child, my dignity. That autumn, I saw my Anna Mae for the first time in almost three years, at the office of a court-appointed psychologist. She is growing to be a beautiful girl.
The following spring, on May 12 2004, our parental rights were terminated.
We, her birth parents, have lost all rights and legal relationships to Anna Mae. There will be no visitation, no trips, no taking photos or making phone calls. No contact with my daughter from now until death.
The Bakers have yet to tell her that her custody has been in dispute for her entire life. She may never know how much we love her. She may never meet her little brother and sister. After five years of fighting and tears, we do not even have a family portrait with her in our arms.
Lord, forgive me for being weak and naïve and so easily manipulated. The Bakers have done everything within their power to do what they believe is Your good work. They have called the police to keep us away from our child. They have fought for our deportation. When they risked losing custody in juvenile court, they filed a petition in chancery court to terminate our parental rights, avoiding the original judgment.
They have cut off our financial resources by subpoenaing our employers and arguing that they hired illegal immigrants. I now work at the Red Sun Buffet in Collierville. When news of our plight reached the press, the Bakers sought and received a gag order on the case.
But all of these actions are nothing to me, next to the accusation they and the United States of America have levelled against us. They accused us of abandoning our child.
Louise kept a journal of over 80 of our visits until Anna Mae’s 2nd birthday. They called the police to remove us from their house during our last visit. On our daughter’s birthday, we were told to leave and never return.
Lord, when I think about this, I feel my heart pounding against my chest, my blood thundering in my ears, the nails of my fists digging deep into my palm. How can there be such evil in this world?
Before I was acquitted, my lawyers told me to accept plea bargains or administrative diversion, because if I had been found guilty of sexual battery, I would have been jailed or deported. I told them I would only accept a trial by jury. I told them, "I don't have anything but time. I have lost everything, my child, my degree, my job. I am prepared to see this through, because I know the truth will come out finally. That is what I know in my heart."
The truth is out, and what has it given us?
It is May 12, 2004, and they are telling me that I am unfit to be a father. They tell me that in my homeland, we kill half of our children. They tell me that we spit on our mothers and daughters and wives. They tell me that my little daughter is better off being raised by a bankrupt mortgage broker with a twelfth grade American education. We as a nation, as a culture, as a people, have been ruled unfit.
I am returning to China. I made the same promise to Anna Mae’s brother and sister as I made to her: that they would not grow up weak and lonely and alienated. I do not wish to break my promise a second time. My beautiful Luo Qin, I am so sorry to have brought you into this life. In our only family portrait with all five of our faces, I am holding a photograph of little Anna Mae.
Help me, please. They’re taking my baby girl.
A Very Sad Chinese Story
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