http://www.dfw.com/mld/startelegram/new ... 043974.htm

Posted on Sat, Jul. 15, 2006

For some border agents, the hunt is to save

LYNN BREZOSKY
Associated Press

FALFURRIAS, Texas - Border Patrol agent J. Kicklighter admits to being an adrenaline junkie, which may be what it takes for the often grueling requirements of rescuing lost illegal immigrants from some of the most inhospitable terrain in the nation.

As one of the Border Patrol's Search, Trauma and Rescue team, known as Borstar, he is part of an elite force that can track someone with a faxed image of a shoe tread, or find a 911 caller by juxtapositions of windmills and mesquite trees mapped in his head.

"It's not checkers," he said, "it's chess."

The Border Patrol now regularly releases tallies on rescues, which it defines as "any incident where lack of intervention by the Border Patrol would result in death or serious bodily injury."

So far this year there have been more than 400 in the Rio Grande Valley sector alone, compared with 159 all of last year.

Immigrant advocates find irony in the concept of Border Patrol agents as saviors - especially, they say, when the agency's intensified apprehensions have led migrants to take increasingly deadly routes.

"They're knowingly pushing the flow of undocumented immigrants into danger," said Nathan Selzer of the Valley Movement for Human Rights. "It seems a little disingenuous to say, 'Look at all the ones we save.'"

By 1998, apprehended immigrants were increasingly telling agents about the ones who had been left behind, deep in the brush or far back in the desert. Civilian rescue teams were not equipped for such rescues, so Borstar was born. Today there are 194 agents, including two women.

Less than half the candidates make it through the five-week training regimen, which includes desert marches, rappelling with body baskets, sleep deprivation and medical training. But agents say the training reflects what the job takes.

"There's really nobody else to do it, when you think about it," agent Isaac David said. "Someone's missing in the desert, in the brush, who you going to call? There's really nobody to look for the people. Some sheriff might drive out and say, 'Well, I shined my light at the brush, but nobody came out.'"

In May, the body of a 3-year-old boy was found based on a faxed image of his mother's shoe print.

Unable to keep up with the rest of their group of illegal immigrants, the two had been left behind in the Arizona desert. The mother went for help and got picked up by the Border Patrol, who told Borstar agents of the missing child and faxed them the image. Borstar tracked the print by flashlight for seven hours before finding the boy, who had died.

Borstar agents are, however, part of the Border Patrol, and when they are not rescuing immigrants they are hunting them.

On a recent June day, agents Kicklighter and Alex Garcia got a report of a "drop off" of about 15 immigrants, meaning a group had been spotted running from a vehicle into the brush.

Kicklighter tracked them in his Humvee, which is loaded for rescue. A "stokes basket," a sort of portable stretcher, takes up most of the back. A pack is stuffed with medical equipment, including oxygen tanks and IV bags. Another pack carries gear that can be used to set up a pulley system to haul victims in the stokes basket from mountainous or craggy areas. There is a jug full of ice water.

Patrolling most of deep South Texas takes cooperation from ranch owners. Most do, sometimes grudgingly. Kicklighter takes notice of a new sign at one of the gates: "U.S. Border Patrol do not enter without permission."

In pursuit at another ranch, agents wonder if they can somehow sneak the Humvee past the ranch house. The rancher is prickly about damage to his caliche road.

As he drives into the ranch, Kicklighter scans the ground for "signs," mainly footprints. When he spots fresh ones, they lead to a section of fence with dirt from so many sneakers that he enters the coordinates into his global positioning system.

He and Garcia, who is working with a search dog, decide that the group is in the miles of brush between two fence lines. Garcia drives out of the ranch and onto the highway, re-entering on the road near the southern fence to patrol the five-mile distance on foot in 100-degree weather.

When Garcia finally emerges from the brush, his fatigues are soaked through with sweat and his voice is raspy. Kicklighter sticks a clammy and nauseated Garcia with an IV to treat heat exhaustion.

Immigration experts see a direct correlation between crackdowns in urban areas and a rise in immigrant deaths in the Southwest's deserts, mountains and ranch scrub.

"They've basically transferred flows away from California and El Paso into Arizona, New Mexico, and the more remote parts of the Rio Grande Valley," said Doug Massey, a Princeton University sociologist. "You actually decrease the chance of doing apprehensions, but you also increase the rate of mortality."

Mario Villarreal, assistant chief for the Border Patrol's Rio Grande Valley sector, said blame for the deaths should fall on the "coyotes" - the smugglers who can earn thousands of dollars for each immigrant.

"Many of the people that we encounter have fallen into distress because the smuggler has abandoned the group," he said. "The people when they're on the trek in many cases are not prepared, they don't have enough water, are not wearing the right clothing, not wearing the right shoes. ... The responsibility really falls in the hands of these callous smugglers who really have a total disregard for human life."

On another day, David and agent Joe Puebla join other agents tracking a new group of illegal immigrants, which apparently has split up.

There is a flash of color in the brush and then a man and two women step out.

One woman is 18, and says she is traveling alone, from Honduras. The man, 28, and other woman, 26, are from Guatemala. They plead wearily to be let go, saying they are only a day's walk to Houston.

"No," David says with emphasis. "The coyotes lie. Houston is four to five hours - by car."

Both women cry, one tries to pick the burrs covering the thin socks she has pulled over her pants. The man looks listless.

"When did you eat last?" David asks. "Are you thirsty?"

They say it has been two days without food, and they are thirsty.

"Don't cry, don't cry," David says. "You are lucky. This week already six people have died."

Back in the Humvee, David admits that there is sometimes a small voice that says, 'Let them go.'

"Anybody could feel sorry for another person, say, 'What kind of harm is this person going to do?'" he said. "But the reality of it is, even if we said, 'Go right ahead,' where are they going to go? They're lost."