By Keith Rosenblum

NOGALES, AZ -- The visitor to Mexico was returning through to the US through the main pedestrian gate at the port of entry and was carrying 2 satchels. One was his and he declared it. The other, containing baby clothes, belonged to a niece.

It was noon on a workday in August. Department of Homeland Security (DHS) agent Parada: "Do these belong to you?"

The American: "The pack is mine; the satchel is my niece's. You are welcome to inspect it. I will take responsibility for it."

Agent Parada: "You can't bring that in if it belongs to someone else. That's policy."

The American: "Can you show me the policy? Or bring me a supervisor to explain this to me?"

In a twist, the niece's satchel had been left several nights before at DHS itself. The vehicle belonging to her had been inspected and, afterward, agents forgot to put it back in.

Agent Parada: "I'm telling you, you cannot bring in someone else's belongings; that's the law."

The American: "I'm telling you, I've been doing this for 30 years and, unless you can cite the statue, or have a supervisor explain this to me, I'm making clear that this satchel is coming back into the U.S. with me."

This pedestrian crossing is filled with Mexicans. A single line is open and the wait varies from 10 minutes to an hour. It is unusual for anyone to make a fuss. Mexicans themselves never do so, because their visas can be revoked for no reason. It would be foolhardy.

But Americans who watch our civil rights diminish every day, at borders, airports and checkpoints understand that it's not about a bunch of kids' clothes or diapers or a niece's satchel whose contents, in sum, are worth about $2. It's about laws. That's what makes this country great, remember?

So the returning American is ordered to a waiting room and now he is joined by DHS agent Ramirez.

The tone is condescending, the questioning accusatory. "What makes you think you can bring another's property into the US," he asks. "Don't you know it's against the law?"

The American: "It has never been. I have offered the satchel for inspection. What I asked for was access to a copy of the rules that prohibits it or a conversation with a supervisor who will explain this to me."

The questioning continues. The American offers that the information Agent Ramirez obtains will be exactly the same, whether the tone is condescending and accusatory or pleasant. The tone changes.

Agent Ramirez is irate, for the American has asked that his pack, abandoned outside the interrogation area, be moved so that it is in his line of sight. Being in a stuffy 10-foot-square, windowless room makes a man suspicious.

Twenty minutes elapse, the checks are conducted, and the American is told that he is free to go - with his bag and the niece's satchel. But, obstinate man that he is, the American still wants to know about the law. What were the agents basing their actions upon? Agent Ramirez is annoyed. "I'm working on a big cocaine case," he says. "I don't have time to go search through regulations and email you. If you have an issue, you can bring it up with our public affairs people."

Brain Levin, the DHS public affairs person, is imprecise when queried, even though he is available and incisive when he has stories that reflect DHS accomplishments.

In an email, he explains that he is not at liberty "to respond regarding your interaction with the officers last week as I do not have specifics of what took place," even though he has been given a detailed accounting. It is clear to a guy with 30 years in reporting when a public information officer just isn't excited about pursuing his own.

He invites me to resolve my "concerns" here, where, I am exhilarated to learn, there are "several options for those that wish to file a complaint or ask questions such as yours."

I've never been prouder of my tax dollar usage. Until you understand where this lack of accountability leads.