The first time I met Tui Masina, he was seated at a conference table surrounded by his doctor, his psychiatrist and his drug counselor. He kept his head bowed the entire time, his lips tightly pursed.

I'd been hired by Freedom Recovery Services, a drug rehabilitation company, to teach Tui how to read and write, part of a larger effort to prepare him to get a job.

Tui's case history read like a modern immigration tragedy: He had never been to school, either in Samoa, where he was born, or Hawai'i, where he arrived as a teenager in the 1970s. Illiterate, he got by with the help of his longtime girlfriend, who filled out job applications, read the mail and did everything else that required reading or writing.

Things fell apart when Tui's girlfriend died of a brain embolism. That was the same year Tui lost both of his parents. Depression, which he had likely suffered his entire adult life, became unbearable and he self-medicated with blackout drinking and occasional drug use. His arrest on a felony drug charge led to two years in jail — and likely saved his life.

I remember two things from our first encounter: the sound of Tui's massive hands slowly wringing beneath the table, and his barely audible answer to the psychiatrist's question: "What makes you sad now?"

"The reading," Tui said.

The right combination of antidepressants did wonders for Tui's emotional state — when we met again for our first lesson, he greeted me like a long-lost friend — but "the reading" was something we'd have to figure out between us.

We met every week for several months, methodically working our way from letters to everyday words to simple sentences. Between lessons, Tui would take his notebook to the park near his uncle's house and study.

"My name is Tui Masina," he'd write. "I live in Kalihi. I am 43 years old. I like to read."

There was a sense of urgency in everything Tui did then. It shamed him that he didn't have a paycheck to contribute to his uncle's household. It bothered him that his health coverage was provided through MedQUEST.

For all of his disadvantages, for all of his missteps, he was a man, after all. Man enough to seek help, and man enough not to allow it to become a crutch.

The folks at KleenCo recognized what kind of man Tui was. You could see it that long morning two months ago when he filled out the application form by himself and looked the owner straight in the eye. Told he had the job, Tui pumped his fist Tiger Woods style then turned and gave me a hug that still has my ribs smarting.

Happy ending, right? I wish.

Last month, officers from the Immigration and Naturalization Service grabbed Tui at his home and took him to a federal detention center to await a deportation hearing — a result of his old conviction.

Tui's parole officer says the case could go either way. If the presiding judge considers any of what Tui has accomplished this past year, it shouldn't be a tough decision: Tui deserves to stay.

And we deserve to have him.

Reach Michael Tsai at mtsai@honoluluadvertiser.com.