Blindspot in America gives a provocative depiction of some of the realities immigrants face in the United States—racism and discrimination—but also their hopes and faith in a country that promises freedom and opportunity to all.
Kamao is the son of a prominent Ghanaian academic and incumbent minister of health and is devoted to all that America symbolizes. After immigrating to the United States in pursuit of higher education and the American Dream, he becomes unwittingly entangled with American politics when he meets Lindsey McAdams, the daughter of an influential, anti-immigration senator. As the couple’s feelings grow, so too does the senator’s animosity toward Kamao. Despite support from fellow immigrants Lazo, Ayefumi, and Dania—who follow American Dreams of their own—Kamao soon finds himself drawn into intrigues hidden from the American public that make him question himself and his adopted country. When Kamao is implicated in a murder, Lindsey’s loyalties are tested, Dania must decide if she is willing to risk her own future and security for the sake of justice, and Kamao discovers how far he’ll go to fulfill his American Dream.
Excerpt
Kamao had been waiting for his trial in Virginia’s maximum-security prison Red Onion State for months now. The thick wall, the tiny window secured by four iron bars that let sunlight into his cell were all real. The bruises on his knuckles were a brutal reminder of the reality that surrounded him. At 4:00 p.m., two armed guards accompanied him to the small yard outside his cell, where he enjoyed the fading daylight of late February. He glanced into the void, attempting to hear the voice of his parents and friends telling him to be brave and not to lose hope. He thought about his parents; how were they handling his situation? They were denied a visa to the United States to be present at his trial. His father’s status as a government official didn’t help.
“This is a national security matter. We cannot allow a foreign country to meddle in a case that concerns the safety and the integrity of the United States,” a spokesperson from Homeland Security told reporters, answering the question about their visa denial.
At 5:30 p.m., a female kitchen helper brought his dinner to the secluded area of the facility. All his food and personal items were inspected by the guards on duty before they delivered them to him.
“All clear! I will take it from here.” The guard took the tray, opened the small window in the door, and placed the plate on the hard wood under the window. “Time to eat.”
“I am not hungry,” a voice replied from the back of the room. Kamao was sitting on the floor, his back to the wall, his knees bent, and his arms crossed.
“Look, man,” the guard said, “you need to eat. None of us knows what is going to happen to you in a few months, but we all know what will happen if you don’t eat.” He waited for a few minutes and continued, “Come on, man, just try to eat something, all right?”
The prisoner got up, walked to the window, and took the plate.
“Thank you, Sam,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” Sam replied. He looked at the poor guy from the window. Kamao looked pale. He had lost a lot of weight. His sadness was muting into despair. Would he ever be found innocent?
“Your lawyers will be here on Monday; you don’t want them to see you like this, do you?” Sam asked. “It would look like you’re giving up the fight. And if you’re giving up on yourself, how can you expect them to fight for you?” Every time Sam saw Kamao like this, he tried to cheer him up without exposing himself as showing compassion to the prisoner, which could result in his losing his job.
Sam was born in Louisiana to a Haitian father that immigrated to the Unit- ed States. His mother was from New Orleans. He was the only guard who never tried to give the prisoner a hard time. The others were usually rude to him, throwing his food on the floor for him to pick up the pieces and eat “like the pig that you are.” One of the guards, Mitch Garvin, from Alabama, lost his job after he made that comment and was heard by one of the supervisors.
Kamao sat on his bed and ate his food: some mashed potatoes and gravy, with two pieces of fried chicken thigh. Within a few months, he had be- come the most covered individual in the news across the country. CBS, CNN, ABC, even newspapers like the New York Times and Washington Post all had a story to tell about the case. For several weeks following his arrest, there had been demonstrations in many cities, some in support of his innocence and others calling for the application of the most severe sentence against the most infamous prisoner in the nation.
“It is time for your visit,” Sam said outside Kamao’s cell. The prisoner got up, put his hands together, and stretched them out to be handcuffed. The guard opened the door and led Kamao to the visitation area where he usually met his attorneys.
“You don’t look too well. Are you sick, Kamao?” Mr. Vivaldi asked.
“I am OK,” Kamao replied in a desperate voice. “I just can’t sleep well.”
“I understand that,” Mr. Vivaldi said, “but you need to eat and get as much sleep as you can. If you keep losing weight like this, you will get sick, and that can’t happen; you need to be strong for the trial.”
Mr. Vivaldi was accompanied by two other attorneys who were also rep- resenting the suspect. Many civil rights activists and the suspect’s supporters were delighted when the prominent attorney who had won the nation’s admiration by successfully defending some high-profile suspects agreed to represent Kamao. One of the cases he won involved the internationally renowned heavyweight boxing champion Tommy Johnson. Tommy Johnson was accused of raping and murdering Nathalie Stevens, a nineteen-year-old prostitute, in a hotel room in Las Vegas. Clark Vivaldi won the case, to the surprise of many.
Money was not an issue in Kamao’s case; he could afford the services of the most expensive lawyers in the country. After his arrest, nationwide fundraising for his defense went on for months. Besides Mr. Vivaldi, a dozen other criminal defense attorneys came forward to represent the suspect, each with different expertise.
“The jury has been selected, and the trial is set to open on April 11, which is a month and a half from today. Do you have any questions for me?”
“No, sir,” Kamao replied.
“OK then! Try to get some sleep, and please eat as much as you can; you need the strength,” Mr. Vivaldi added. He pushed his chair back, gathered his folders, and said, “I will let you know if there is anything new, and remember: don’t talk to anyone about your case when I am not around.”
“Understood, sir,” Kamao replied.
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