Corrupt Cops Cash In on Fake Visa Scam

Written by Elijah Bennett.

Federal prosecutors have leveled serious accusations against several law enforcement figures in central Louisiana, alleging their involvement in a sophisticated operation that exploited immigration policies for personal gain.

At the center of this case are five individuals, including three who served as police chiefs in small communities. The charges stem from a grand jury indictment issued earlier this month in Shreveport, outlining a web of deceit that spanned nearly ten years, from late 2015 through mid-2025.

Authorities claim the defendants fabricated police reports to portray undocumented individuals as victims of nonexistent crimes, specifically armed robberies, enabling these people to apply for special visas intended for genuine crime victims. This manipulation not only undermined the integrity of the immigration system but also involved bribery and the misuse of official positions.

The accused include Chad Doyle, the current chief of police in Oakdale; Glynn Dixon, who holds the same role in Forest Hill; and Tebo Onishea, a former chief in Glenmora. Joining them are Michael Slaney, known locally as “Freck,” serving as a marshal in Oakdale’s Ward 5 office, and Chandrakant Patel, often called “Lala,” a businessman operating in Oakdale. Patel is portrayed as a key facilitator, allegedly collecting payments from those seeking the fraudulent documents and distributing bribes to the officers.

Investigators describe a straightforward yet effective process: individuals desiring to remain in the United States would approach Patel or intermediaries, paying substantial sums—often thousands of dollars—for his services. Patel would then coordinate with the law enforcement defendants, offering them cash incentives, typically around $5,000 per falsified report, to create and certify bogus incident records.

These reports were crucial because they supported applications for U-visas, a form of immigration relief designed to protect vulnerable people while aiding criminal investigations. In reality, no robberies occurred, and the supposed victims had no involvement in any probes. The scheme’s scale is notable, with hundreds of names linked to these phony certifications, many of which led to approved visas.

Federal agents, including those from the FBI and ICE, conducted searches at multiple sites, including police departments and a Subway restaurant owned by Patel. At least two of the chiefs were in custody by the time of the announcement, reflecting the swift action following the indictment.

The 62-count indictment covers a range of offenses: conspiracy to commit visa fraud, actual visa fraud, bribery, mail fraud through the sending of false documents via postal services, and money laundering to conceal the proceeds. Each defendant faces varying counts, with potential prison terms ranging from five to twenty years per charge if convicted, plus hefty fines up to $250,000 per count.

This case emerged after authorities noticed an anomalous spike in reported armed robberies involving out-of-state individuals in these quiet rural areas, prompting deeper scrutiny. U.S. Attorney Alexander C. Van Hook, speaking at a press conference in Lafayette, emphasized that the robberies “never took place,” highlighting the blatant fabrication at play.

While the allegations are grave, officials were quick to note that the indictments do not imply widespread corruption within the affected departments. The Louisiana Attorney General’s office assisted in the investigation, providing support for court-authorized activities.

Understanding the U-Visa Program and Its Vulnerabilities

The U-visa program, established by Congress in 2000 as part of the Victims of Trafficking and Violence Protection Act, serves a dual purpose in the American immigration framework.

It offers temporary legal status to noncitizens who have endured significant mental or physical abuse as victims of specific crimes, provided they assist law enforcement in investigating or prosecuting those offenses. Qualifying crimes include serious felonies like domestic violence, sexual assault, human trafficking, and armed robbery—the latter being the fabricated offense in this Louisiana case.

To obtain a U-visa, applicants must secure certification from a law enforcement agency, typically via Form I-918B, confirming their victim status and helpfulness. This certification is pivotal, as it validates the claim to U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS). Successful applicants receive work authorization, protection from deportation, and a potential path to permanent residency after three years, and eventually citizenship.

However, the program operates under strict limits. Congress caps principal U-visas at 10,000 per fiscal year, excluding derivatives like family members. This restriction has created a massive backlog, with wait times stretching up to a decade or more for many applicants. For instance, data from the Department of Homeland Security shows that in the fiscal year ending September 30, 2022, approximately 10,000 principal visas were issued, but pending applications numbered in the hundreds of thousands.

Recent statistics reveal the program’s scale and challenges. USCIS reports indicate that nearly 10 percent of approved principal petitioners required waivers for prior issues like fraud or misrepresentation, underscoring ongoing integrity concerns. Moreover, an audit by the Office of Inspector General (OIG) in 2021 flagged significant deficiencies in USCIS’s management, including failures to cross-reference signatures against authorized databases and inadequate tracking of fraud referrals.

The OIG review examined samples of approved applications and found instances where forged or unauthorized certifications slipped through, leading to unwarranted approvals. It also noted that USCIS did not systematically monitor fraud case outcomes, leaving gaps in understanding the extent of abuse. These findings prompted warnings from USCIS about the program’s susceptibility to exploitation, echoing broader worries in immigration policy circles.

Experts point out that the backlog exacerbates vulnerabilities, as desperate applicants may seek shortcuts, including paying for fraudulent help. In relatable terms, imagine a system meant to shield a battered spouse who reports abuse, but instead, it becomes a loophole for those willing to game the rules—much like how tax credits for genuine hardships can attract scammers if oversight lapses.

Broader data on U-visa demographics shows a diverse applicant pool, with many from Latin American countries, and crimes like domestic violence topping the list. Yet, the program’s intent—to encourage reporting and enhance community safety—can falter when fraud erodes trust. Law enforcement leaders stress that legitimate U-visas are invaluable, as they secure witness cooperation in cases where fear of deportation might otherwise silence victims.

In this Louisiana incident, the alleged abuse directly contradicts the program’s goals. Van Hook remarked that U-visas “serve a valuable purpose,” but this scheme represents a clear perversion, where officials meant to uphold justice instead profited from falsehoods.

To address such risks, proposals include increasing the annual cap, bolstering verification processes, and enhancing inter-agency data sharing. Until reforms take hold, cases like this highlight the delicate balance between humanitarian aid and system security.

Local Context and Broader Immigration Implications

The small towns implicated—Oakdale, Forest Hill, and Glenmora—lie in central Louisiana, a region not typically associated with border issues, yet it hosts a significant immigration infrastructure.

Louisiana ranks second only to Texas in the number of immigrant detainees, with nine ICE detention facilities holding nearly 7,000 people as of recent counts. Facilities like the South Louisiana ICE Processing Center in Basile and the Central Louisiana ICE Processing Center in Jena are nearby, often housing individuals from various nationalities awaiting deportation or asylum decisions.

These centers, operated by private companies such as GEO Group, have faced scrutiny for conditions, including reports of inadequate medical care, overcrowding, and abuse. A 2024 report detailed “rampant abuse” in Louisiana’s facilities, noting their remote locations complicate access to legal aid and family support. For example, detainees at the Pine Prairie ICE Processing Center have described prolonged isolation and substandard hygiene, issues that human rights groups continue to monitor.

In this environment, opportunities for visa fraud may arise more readily. Many detainees or recently released individuals seek pathways to stay, creating demand for services like U-visas. The proximity of these towns to detention hubs could explain why the scheme flourished here, as networks between local businesses, law enforcement, and immigrant communities intersect.

Consider a typical scenario: a person released from detention might hear through word-of-mouth about ways to secure status. If legitimate options are backlogged, unscrupulous operators step in. This Louisiana case isn’t isolated; similar fraud has surfaced elsewhere, such as in South Carolina, where individuals were convicted in 2019 for conspiring to obtain U-visas through fake claims.

Another example involves false domestic violence accusations motivated by U-visa eligibility, leading to wrongful arrests and highlighting how fraud can harm innocent parties. In Texas, attorneys have noted rising cases where alleged victims fabricate stories for immigration benefits, complicating criminal defense and eroding program credibility.

Federal probes, like those initiated by congressional leaders in 2016, have examined U-visa exploitation through bribes and falsified reports, urging tighter controls. The OIG’s 2022 findings reinforced this, identifying approved applications with suspicious elements that weren’t flagged.

The implications extend beyond Louisiana. Fraudulent U-visas strain resources, delay genuine victims, and fuel debates on immigration reform. For communities, it undermines faith in local police, especially in areas reliant on immigrant labor in agriculture or services. Economically, central Louisiana’s towns, with populations under 5,000 each, depend on stability, and scandals like this can deter investment or heighten tensions.

Professionally speaking, as someone covering justice and policy, I’ve seen how such schemes reflect systemic gaps. Strengthening audits and training for certifying agencies could mitigate risks, ensuring the program aids those it was designed for—real victims contributing to safer streets.

On a national scale, with over 200,000 U-visa applications pending, addressing the cap and backlog is urgent. Advocates argue for expansion to 40,000 annually, while critics worry about further abuse without safeguards. This balance is key to maintaining the program’s humanitarian core.

Our Take

This indictment exposes a troubling intersection of local authority and immigration vulnerabilities, underscoring the need for rigorous oversight to preserve the U-visa program’s integrity. While the scheme’s scale alarms, it also presents an opportunity to fortify protections for authentic victims, ensuring that law enforcement’s role remains one of genuine support rather than exploitation.