GONZÁLEZ: Deportation is a scary word. For countless immigrants in America, the fear of deportation forces them to live under the radar, hiding their lack of legal immigration status. But even immigrants who come to this country legally have the chance of being deported if they break certain laws. Even refugees, if the crime is bad enough. This is a story about a man who became a a refugee during the Cambodian genocide in the 1970’s and, after four tumultuous decades living in the United States, gets deported.

POV: I mean, I born here. Yes. But I was raised and grow in the United States. I can’t go back. I can’t do anything, you know, and what can I say, you know, I gotta tell myself that this is me now. I'm Cambodian now, you know?

GONZÁLEZ: Last time Pov Pech was in Cambodia, he was six-years-old and dodging bullets. Last summer, after 40 years in the United States, he was deported back to a country he barely knows, leaving his family and his American identity behind.

I’m Ana González, and you’re listening to Mosaic.

ANA: All right. I think that works. Can you hear me? You could? Yeah, I'm in the studio today which is great. Okay great. How are you doing? How was your past couple days?

POV: I'm doing fine. I was just sitting over here wait for your call cuz this is the only place that I could get reception

ANA: Right and where are you right now? How would you describe it?

POV: I rent an apartment next to like, they call it Riverside. It's like a lake, next to a lake, Mekong Lake. Oh no, it’s a river. It’s a river. It’s not a lake. It’s a river.

GONZÁLEZ: This is the second time I’ve interviewed Pov Pech. And while coronavirus has made meetings and interviews via video chat the new norm, I’m interviewing Pov in the before times, at the beginning of 2020, back when it was rare to do extensive interviewing not in person. I’m in our studio in Providence, Rhode Island. And Pov is sitting outside of his apartment in Phnom Penh on the banks of the Mekong River, which divides Vietnam and Cambodia.

POV: Every day like everybody they come by, like, people come by, sit around the river. They sit there and drink and have fun, enjoying they friendship, relationship whatever you call.

ANA: Do you ever do that with friends there?

POV: I never consider anybody friend because I have a hard time to trust people now, you know…

GONZÁLEZ: Each time we talk, Pov tells me how lonely he is in Cambodia. Back in Massachusetts, he has a big, close-knit family. They lived and worked together and would spend most of their free time eating their mom’s cooking in someone’s backyard. Now, Pov still relies on his family for financial support, but he passes his time alone.

POV: I stay in house. I don't really go out of nowhere. It's hard for me to go anywhere. The only time I go out is if I go get something to eat....I have a dog, so he give me something to do so. I have a bully. I have a pitbull. I have a short, stocky one.

ANA: What's his name?

POV: His name is Onyx.

ANA: Onyx, cool.

POV: And he only understand English. [laughs]

GONZÁLEZ: Pov is in a tough situation in Cambodia. But he didn’t get there by accident. Back in the States, Pov was in and out of prison for 30 years. Most notably, for this: WJAR NEWS CLIP: 16-year-old Liuska Sosa lies in a Rhode Island Hospital bed, a bullet still lodged in her shoulder. The young woman was hit while trying to escape the shots of two Cambodian males police say randomly fired into a crowd of students yesterday.

GONZÁLEZ: January 16, 1990. 16-year-old Pov and his friend, Dyna, bring guns to the courtyard of Central High School in Providence and open fire.

DAVID MOROWITZ: I had never heard of someone just randomly shooting children at a school. It was big. It was before Columbine. It may have been bigger if it happened after Columbine, but I thought it was an appropriate response.

GONZÁLEZ: That’s David Morowitz, the District Attorney of Providence who prosecuted Pov Pech’s case. He’s been prosecuting cases for 40 years. He’s seen every type of criminal offense, and he has little sympathy for people, like Pov, who have broken the law.

DAVID: You had to be careful if you see kids who look like they could be that type of kid. You see kids walking to school with books, different story. You see kids dressed in a certain way, certain type of car, there's a higher chance that they're not the school children that you would be less afraid of. These kids didn't go through the normal upbringing that citizens who give birth to children here go through. This is war-torn refugee camp, or whatever. It happens. You can understand why someone might be that way. Doesn't mean they shouldn't go to jail if they do something wrong.

GONZÁLEZ: But Pov’s early years in Cambodia are a big part of his story.

POV: My first memory is I think when I was young. And I think it was in Khmer, Cambodia. And I know I was running around naked, with no clothes on.

GONZÁLEZ: But it’s more serious than he’s letting on. Pov Pech was born in 1973, two years before the Vietnam War would end and throw Cambodia into the genocidal reign of the Khmer Rouge. The Khmer Rouge wanted to start over, wipe out any trace of the West and turn Cambodia into a rural, Communist utopia. They began by emptying the cities. The middle class, the intellectuals, and the religious were targeted and killed. Then, they set up work camps. Young boys were taken from their families, stripped of all of their identity and clothing, beaten, and forced into manual labor. Pov was one of these boys. He was taken from his mother when he was five-years-old.

BORI: She was heartbroken.

GONZÁLEZ: That’s Pov’s sister-in-law, Bori, translating for his mother, Mokry.

BORI: She says she feel bad for him. But what else could she do? If she refused, she’d end up getting killed. Then who's gonna watch the others?

GONZÁLEZ: Pov doesn’t remember much about being in the labor camp. He’s blocked those memories out. But he does remember reuniting with his mother and siblings as the Khmer Rouge regime is falling in 1979.

POV: Back then, I couldn't really understand what's going on. All I know is just that people screaming and people running, scattered everywhere. It’s all like flashbacks, stuff, you know, memories come back. I be having dreams, you know. I be having nightmare dreams about it.

GONZÁLEZ: The Pech family makes it to a refugee camp in Thailand called Khao-I-Dang. Pov is 6 years old. He remembers the refugee camp as crowded. At its peak, Khao-I-Dang let in 1,600 Cambodian refugees every single day. There’s not enough food. To make matters worse, his mother is pregnant while still nursing her last baby. Pov and his brothers try to steal food for her and their family to eat. They are beaten. One day, Pov realizes his baby brother isn’t there anymore.

POV: I think I was around like six years old. Five or six years old. So I couldn't really understand, but I know that he's not there. So, I always try to ask my mom about it. And I still didn't know what's going on until when we get to United States, and I found out that my brother was passed away.

GONZÁLEZ: Somehow, the rest of the family survives their time at Khao-i-Dang. At the end of 1980, they get a sponsor in the United States. The Pech family is going to be resettled as refugees in New York City.

BORI: She used to tell me the story. She said that she doesn't care what the perception is coming to the United States, as long as all her kids come with her. Safe, come with her. Than being over there. She doesn't care what was ahead of her. As long as all her kids and herself and her husband are safe together. She just willing to come, and then she adapt to it.

GONZÁLEZ: So, that’s what Pov’s family does. They arrive in the South Bronx in January, 1981. The family of 6 are placed in a one-bedroom apartment. None of them have ever experienced winter before, so they’re wear anything they can find to stay warm: slippers, girls clothes, boy’s clothes, it didn’t matter. Pov’s stepfather is able to get a job as a cook, but money is tight. So, Pov starts doing what he used to do to get by in Cambodia.

POV: I started stealing when I was in New York. Because I was hungry and I was with some friend. You know, like, back then in New York, you know how they used to sell fruit and stuff on the street? And you know, we was hungry., so we just going to the corner and just go snatch some food and run. And run with it.

ANA: Did you ever get caught?

POV: No, not really. I was too quick. [laughs]

GONZÁLEZ: After a few years in the Bronx, Pov’s oldest brother gets married to a Cambodian woman from Lowell, Massachusetts. They move up there and convince the rest of the family to do the same. Lowell’s economy is booming thanks to new industries moving into old abandoned mills, and there’s a growing Cambodian community there. So, in 1985, the Pech family packs up their one-bedroom apartment and moves to Lowell, Massachusetts. Pov immediately starts to get a reputation.

BORI: Out of the brothers, he was the one, the roughest one, you know? The old mindset.

GONZÁLEZ: Even though Lowell has more Cambodians than New York at the time, it’s not an easy place to be Southeast Asian. It’s only about 10 years after the Vietnam War. There's a lot of hatred and ignorance in America in general towards Southeast Asian immigrants. Pov describes getting made fun of by other kids at school for being Asian. Unlike the other Cambodian kids in the neighborhood, or even his own brothers, Pov fights back.

POV: A lot of the Cambodians, they didn’t want no problems and stuff. And I’m the one that end up stepping up and stuff. And I start having issue with them. And when they see that, they don't like it, so I guess they got me on the radar. So every time they see me, they always trying to like, jump me, and stuff like that. And I started get upset or mad. And I started, like, bringing weapons to school, you know, like, I'd be making all kinds of nunchucks and all that stuff. Just to protect myself, and what I need to do. And then I'm the one getting trouble, getting kicked out, and they don't get kicked out and stuff like that. Because I guess we don't have much power, whatever.

GONZÁLEZ: He gets expelled from middle school for bringing in weapons. When he starts at another school, his teachers realize that this kid can’t read. He can’t write. They try to hold him back a few times to help him make progress, but, at this point, Pov is totally disinterested in school. His mother tries to help by breaking up fights Pov would get into in the neighborhood, but she can’t communicate with her son’s teachers or figure out how to get him off the street.

BORI: She said that she went out to protect her son. She'll go and scream with a pot with a broom. You know, “That's my son. That's my son.”

GONZÁLEZ: Pov would go missing for days at a time, and his mother would scour the neighborhood looking for him. At a certain point, though, she gave up trying to control Pov. Outside of school, he’s getting into some serious trouble.

POV: I never graduate high school, and I get arrested for stealing car stereos, stealing cars. And I went in and out juvenile detention center, DYS.

GONZÁLEZ: When Pov is 15, he’s sent to a juvenile detention center in Lowell.

POV: I was upset, and I was scared. I remember I was scared of everything. They had like a school class, and I was crying. I was around, like, 14,15.

GONZÁLEZ: Pov describes having flashbacks to being in Cambodia. Nightmares about gunshots and screams that would keep him on edge. Even though he’s scared on the inside, on the outside, he’s tough. He starts to make friends with the other Cambodian kids locked up with him. A couple of them are from Providence. After he serves his short sentence, he’s released to a halfway house in Lowell under the state’s custody. Whenever he gets a chance, he sneaks down to Providence to hang out with his friends.

POV: And I met a girl. And when I met the girl, and she was with me and stuff like that. And she go to Central High School. So I used to walk her back and forth to go Central High School. And that's when it happened again. That situation.

GONZÁLEZ: That same situation that Pov seems to find himself in again and again. That situation that got him kicked out of school after school in Lowell. He claims that a group of students are harassing his girlfriend and other Southeast Asian students for being Asian. They’re throwing out racist slurs, laughing at their accents and names. They don’t realize who they’re messing with.

POV: So I step up and I try to tell them what's going on. So, what happened was they jumped me in that moment. They chased me, and when they chased me in that moment, and I went to grab like a you know, like a tree stick or something. And I came back, and then after that, the whole school start chasing me inside the school, and I went home. So, when I went home, I got, you know, upset. I got mad. And that day, I was going to come back. And then my girl’s like “No, no, no, no, no, don't go. Don't go.” But somehow it's like, my mind, it's just – I couldn't think of anything. And I can't even wait for the next day to go back.

GONZÁLEZ: Pov and his friend, Dyna, buy guns from a neighbor. Pov gets a .357 magnum, and Dyna gets a 32 caliber handgun. They sleep for a few hours before heading over to Central High School the next morning. It’s January 16th, 1990.

POV: What happened, when I walk over there, they all walk toward me. I think it was around lunchtime. And then I started to pull out the gun and I started shooting at the air. Then suddenly, they was running everywhere. When they run inside of the hallway stuff, I went in there, and I shot, and I guess I hit the wall, and ricochet and hit the girl in the shoulder.

GONZÁLEZ: The bullets hit one student in the back and another kid, a recent graduate visiting campus, in his leg. They are taken to the hospital.

POV: I guess after that, I fled. I ran. I had a gun in my hand, and I ran, and this guy was chasing after me, and I jump over the fence.

GONZÁLEZ: He and Dyna run behind a nearby housing project where they’re surrounded by police.

GONZÁLEZ: What was going through your mind when you're getting arrested?

POV: I was scared. I was scared and stuff.

GONZÁLEZ: They take Pov and Dyna to the police station and place them in an adult holding cell. Pov is 16 and Dyna is 17, but to the police, they look much older. Pov has sleeves of tattoos and a hardened attitude from years in and out of juvie. The police think he’s lying when he says he’s only 16.

POV: I told him my name and age and they didn't believe me. They say I lie. And I say, “No, that's my name, my age and I live in Lowell, Massachusetts. I'm on probation. I got a caseworker.”

GONZÁLEZ: Pov’s caseworker from the halfway house sees the news about the shooting and sees Pov’s mugshot. She immediately calls up the police station and tells them Pov is a minor under the state of Massachusetts’s custody. He and Dyna are then sent to the juvenile holding facility to await trial in family court.

But Pov’s case doesn’t make it there. In a rare move, the Attorney General sees his record, waives him out of family court and into the adult system, where he would be tried for assault with a dangerous weapon, possession of a firearm by an alien, conspiracy, and three counts of assault with intent to murder.

WJAR NEWS CLIP: The prosecutor outlined what the all-white jury would hear

DAVID: You’re going to hear about students panicking, fleeing in terror. Some running down that staircase I’ve just spoken about, some students jumping over the wall...

DAVID: My memory of both the bail hearing and the trial was that it was warm out.

GONZÁLEZ: Again, Attorney David Morowitz. In August 1991, the trial of Pov Pech begins in Providence Superior Court. Nestled in the back of the old courthouse, the smallest courtroom in the place is crammed with reporters.

DAVID: It was a very big deal. It was all over the news. It was a school shooting. Dozens of police responded to it. It was sensational.

GONZÁLEZ: The case is such a big deal that it attracts a high-powered defense attorney in the state of Rhode Island to take on Pov’s case. David Cicilline, our future Congressman, defends Pov against these allegations. But Morowitz thinks this is a cut-and-dry conviction. Police caught Pov at the scene. The two victims are alive and willing to testify. He even has two witnesses that place Pov at the scene with a gun. All Morowitz needs is a confession, but there’s a catch.

DAVID: He gave a statement. It was reduced to writing by the police. I'm pretty sure he signed it, he must have signed it. The judge excluded that statement, determined that Pov didn't understand his rights and couldn't knowingly waive his rights to remain silent. And therefore, the judge excluded it.

GONZÁLEZ: Pov is still illiterate. He speaks better Khmer than English, and there’s no translation available to him throughout the trial.

POV: You know, I was like 16 and a half and 17 and I didn't really understand or know what's going on. Because I believe in that when somebody is your lawyer, they represent for you, so they're gonna work for you and do for you. I put everything, my trust towards the lawyer, but I still don't know what's going on, what’s the rule, the law, about the court system. I don't know anything about that.

GONZÁLEZ: So, the trial continues without a statement from Pov. David Morowitz and David Cicilline go back and forth with remarks, witnesses, and evidence. Cicilline argues that Pov’s actions were caused by the horrors of childhood and the ceaseless racism he and his Cambodian friends experienced at school. Morowitz calls the shooting an act of terrorism.

DAVID: And it may have been true that the students at the school were calling him and his friends monkeys. It may have been true. Shame on those students. It just didn't apply. This was just a bad kid who did, he did something bad. Just that simple. And that was the extent of it. So I think we have to be hard on those that threaten the rest of the community and interfere with the kind of system and the kind of society we like to have. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That gets imposed upon when you get a bullet in your back for no reason at all. It's not a self defense case.

GONZÁLEZ: Halfway through the trial, Cicilline advises Pov to take a plea, and he signs the deal: 7 years in a maximum security prison. Pov just turned 18. He writes a letter from inside his holding cell to a friend that police intercept and share with David Morowitz.

MOROWITZ: I think he used a Spanish inmate to write it. Whatever it was, what sticks out in my mind most was a statement: “I just want to do my time fast, man.”

GONZÁLEZ: Pov just wants to go in, serve his sentence, and get back out. But it’s not going to happen that way. This will follow him for all of his life. And Pov remembers all of that as he looks out over the Mekong River where, nearly 30 years later, he’s celebrating his son’s birthday all by himself.

POV: He's seven. He turned seven on the 11th. I talked to him, but it's kind of hard. And I try to keep it strong, stay strong you know. He's like “Daddy, are you gonna get me a present?” And when he said that, it hit me, you know.

GONZÁLEZ: As a deported person, it’s uncertain if Pov will ever be allowed to enter the United States again. He’s not on good terms with his son’s mom, so it’s unlikely that she will bring their son to Cambodia to visit Pov any time soon. His only hope is that his son will be able to visit one day when he’s old enough to make the trip alone. For now, they talk on Facetime every day.

POV: I just don't want my son to go through what I go through, you know. I just want him, you know, to be somebody. To be something. I can’t do anything right now, I’m just happy that I’m still living, still breathing. And I can live another day to still talk to my son and my mom, you know?

GONZÁLEZ: In the next episode of Mosaic, we go to Lowell, Mass, where Pov Pech returns to live after he serves his time. He tries out the straight and narrow life, but his past sets him on a troubled path that, decades later, ends in deportation.

Mosaic is a production of The Public’s Radio. Edited by Sally Eisele. With production help from Aaron Selbig and James Baumgartner. Our theme music is by Bryn Bliska. Our interns are Angela Zhang and Michelle Liu. Torey Malatia is the general manager of The Public’s Radio. Special thanks to WJAR for supplying archival footage for this episode.I’m Ana González: thank you for listening. If you want to learn more about the stories in Mosaic, visit thepublicsradio.org/mosaic. And, as always, subscribe to Mosaic wherever you get your podcasts.

Support for this podcast comes from the Carnegie Corporation of New York, supporting innovations in education, democratic engagement, and the advancement of international peace and security at carnegie.org.