Shockingly inhumane: 20 y.o. recent quadriplegic deported

This is sickening.  A young man comes to America for a better life.  Like both sets of my grandparents.  Quelino Ojeda Jimenez does not have the correct “piece of paper” to make him a legal immigrant.  Our good old American Capitalism uses him for cheap labor.  Sends him to work on top of a roof.  Apparently does not give him safety equipment. 

He falls off backwards while doing his job.  Becomes a quadriplegic.  Unable to move, speak or breathe on his own.  After he is stabilized in the hospital, they deport him back to Mexico.  To a hospital “so resource-poor that it is reusing filters for the breathing machine needed to keep him alive.”  See photos.

This is a grotesque miscarriage of justice.  It is morally offensive

In America, workers give up their right to sue in exchange for being entitled to worker’s compensation.  This is a no-fault system.  In this case, the young man worked for a subcontractor.  So he could not sue the contractor.  But the general contractor was not his employer.  In Washington State the general contractor could be sued under a law known as Stute.

This case is causing an uproar.  Hopefully someone will be able to reverse this wrong.

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About Karen
Karen Koehler, partner at the nationally recognized law firm of SKW, blogs about all things related to spinal cord injuries...More
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On Another's Sorrow
Can I see another's woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another's grief,
And not seek for kind relief.

Can I see a falling tear.
And not feel my sorrows share,
Can a father see his child,
Weep, nor be with sorrow fill'd.

Can a mother sit and hear.
An infant groan an infant fear?
No no never can it be,
Never never can it be

And can he who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small
Hear the small bird's grief & care
Hear the woes that infants bear

And not sit beside the nest
Pouring pity in their breast.
And not sit the cradle near
Weeping tear on infant's tear.

And not sit both night & day.
Wiping all our tears away.
O! no never can it be.
Never, never can it be!

He doth give His joy to all:
He becomes an infant small,
He becomes a man of woe,
He doth feel the sorrow too.

Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy Maker is not by:
Think not thou canst weep a tear,
And thy Maker is not near.

O He gives to us His joy,
That our grief He may destroy:
Till our grief is fled and gone
He doth sit by us and moan.

— William Blake