Emigration
Growing up in the tiny eastern European country of Flavonia, all young Yuri had ever dreamed of was to one day visit the United States, and he would, in his own words, do anything to make that dream a reality. On a particularly cold, bleak Flavonian night, under the influence of cheap Flavonian alcohol, Yuri stowed away in the wheel well of a New York City-bound jet. After a frigid, mentally-draining eighteen hours, Yuri emerged from the belly of the plane onto the tarmac at JFK, where he was immediately spotted and apprehended by Homeland Security. In a desperate attempt to escape the grip of a particularly strong security guard, Yuri flailed his arms violently, hitting a nearby baggage handler in the face. As the handler fell backwards, he split his head open on the concrete, dying instantly.
Yuri spent the next six months in a holding cell, awaiting trial, wanting nothing more than to return home to the comfort and safety of tiny Flavonia. When his trial finally came and the jury handed down their verdict - involuntary manslaughter with a fairly lengthy sentence – and the bailiff led Yuri away, the judge had parting words for the young Flavonian: “Welcome to America.”
