Ah, America. Land of the free, home of the brave, and—if you happen to have a British accent and a penchant for telling all in a best-selling memoir—land of the very complicated visa application.
Enter Prince Harry, the Duke of Sussex, whose decision to swap royal duties for podcasting and chicken-raising in California has come with an unexpected side plot: a legal wrangle over whether he should, in fact, be here at all. You see, back in Spare, his warts-and-all tell-all tome, Harry regaled us with tales of youthful misadventures involving various mind-altering substances. A bit of tooting here, a spot of puffing there, some dabbling in hallucinogens—nothing particularly shocking, unless you consider the small print on U.S. immigration forms, which take a rather dim view of this sort of thing.
The Heritage Foundation, a conservative think tank with a fondness for strict border enforcement (and, apparently, a keen interest in the reading habits of exiled royals), took notice. They argued that if Harry was honest about his past drug use on his visa application, then how, pray tell, did he get in? And if he wasn’t honest, well—off to Heathrow with him, preferably in coach class with a layover in Reykjavik. They demanded to see his immigration records, presumably expecting them to reveal either an embarrassing clerical error or a level of preferential treatment usually reserved for diplomatic immunity and James Bond villains.
The U.S. Department of Homeland Security, in an uncharacteristic moment of discretion, refused to hand over the files. And so, the case went to court, where Judge Carl Nichols initially ruled that Harry’s privacy trumped public curiosity. But that was before Donald Trump waltzed back into the White House, whereupon the Heritage Foundation thought, “Ah-ha! New administration, new opportunities!” and pressed the issue once more.
Now, Judge Nichols has re-opened the matter, musing that perhaps some of the documents could be released—just the juicy bits, presumably, with the names redacted but enough details left intact to make for a compelling prime-time news special. Meanwhile, the question remains: does this make Prince Harry a potential target for deportation?
Well, current U.S. immigration enforcement efforts are, shall we say, enthusiastic. The Biden administration had already been engaged in record deportations, and with Trump back in office, the “zero tolerance” immigration stance is being turned up to eleven. That said, actual deportation priorities tend to focus on individuals with criminal records, undocumented migrants, and those deemed national security threats. Prince Harry, despite his confessions to dabbling with illicit substances, does not quite fit the profile of a cartel kingpin or a fugitive mastermind.
So, will they actually put him on a plane and send him packing? Highly unlikely. Will they make an example of him, dragging out this legal soap opera to prove a point? Now that—that is far more plausible.
And so, we wait. The court will eventually rule, the politicians will posture, and Prince Harry, one imagines, will continue tending to his chickens in Montecito while wondering whether he should have gone for a nice quiet life in Canada instead.
