Church shelters Liliana one year
Both sides seem to be in limbo
By Tom Kisken (Contact)
Saturday, August 23, 2008

Juan Carlo / Star staff Liliana and her son Pablito have spent a year living in sanctuary, in a home owned by the United Church of Christ in Simi Valley. She's part of a national New Sanctuary Movement, which is trying to protect illegal immigrants from deportation and separation from their families.





Liliana remains.

A year ago today, the illegal immigrant moved into a small home owned by the United Church of Christ in Simi Valley. She came with her then 5-month-old son Pablito for sanctuary against the threat of being deported to Mexico.

Lawyers are trying to find a way for her to return to her previous home in Oxnard but don't know when something will happen.

People who once protested at the church call federal authorities and demand Liliana's deportation as well as investigations into the church. Immigration officials avoid saying they won't make an arrest on church property, instead declaring they take action at "appropriate times in appropriate places."

The limbo continues, and no one knows how long it will last, including Liliana.

"I don't have any idea," she said through a translator Friday at a sanctuary home decorated with pictures of the Virgin Mary. "I live day by day. I ask God to bring a solution."

Her presence and the church's efforts draw praise from some advocates of immigration reform, anger from people who want the government to enforce its laws and calculated disinterest from others.

"We're just kind of ignoring it at this point. It's not really an issue," said Simi Valley Mayor Paul Miller, who was once at the center of a controversy that drew national attention.

Miller led the city's efforts to bill the church for the security provided at a Sunday morning protest last September against Liliana and illegal immigration. Then he and other city leaders tried to persuade Department of Homeland Security to move quickly on Liliana's case.

Neither effort worked.

"The city has no control over it," he said. "Going into this thing we felt we weren't going to get any results."

Voluntary imprisonment

Liliana, who is 30, conceals her last name, instead using Santuario — Spanish for sanctuary. She comes from Michoacan and was caught trying to cross the border 10 years ago after her request for a student visa was rejected.

She tried to cross the border in a different place, made it and ended up in Oxnard. Her husband is a naturalized citizen. Their three children were born in the United States.

She sought sanctuary in May 2007 after armed immigration agents came to arrest her at her Oxnard home, then gave a short reprieve so she could find someone to care for her children. As part of a national project called the New Sanctuary Movement, she went to the home of a Catholic deacon in Sierra Madre, then to an Episcopal church in Long Beach and finally to Simi Valley.

She lives directly behind the church in a three-bedroom home that was once a parsonage. The only time she leaves is to go to the church.

The doors of the house stay locked. Groceries are delivered. Church members or other supporters stay with her constantly, just in case immigration agents come.

An English tutor visits her three times a week. She cooks, cleans and takes care of her children, who are there nearly every day. Once a week, Catholics deliver Holy Communion.

She said she doesn't feel trapped. She thinks her experiences are making a difference.

"Maybe you can't really see it," she said, "but me being here will remind people to change the law."

To many people, Liliana is the face of an invasion that has brought 12 million illegal immigrants into the country, taking away jobs and opportunities, committing crimes and asking for immigration amnesty.

They say her continuing presence at the church provides the definitive X-ray of a shattered immigration system.

"I think it says that our government is not wanting to enforce our own laws," said Chelene Nightingale, spokeswoman for the Save Our State group that helped organize Sunday protests at the church. "It sends a very clear message that America is in a crisis situation and people aren't paying attention."

Nobody cared'

Liliana's presence pushed a quiet city known for its lack of crime and conservative politics into the middle of the immigration tug of war.

That first protest rally held outside the church brought about 120 angry people from throughout Southern California. They hollered ugly insults at each other from across a driveway, those protesting illegal immigration on one side and counter-protesters supporting Liliana on the other.

A protest held the next month brought about 40 people, and eventually the number dwindled to five people who stood outside the church every Sunday. They no longer brought bullhorns but still had American flags and signs that tweaked the Spanish slogan "Si se puede" into "Deportation, yes we can."

Lupe Moreno, a clerical worker for the County of Orange, missed only two weekends over 11 months. She drove 90 minutes or more every Sunday because of what she saw as the arrogance of people willfully breaking the law.

The protesters asked Simi Valley police to arrest Liliana. They wrote to Congress and other government officials.

"It's just like nobody cared," Moreno said.

She and others stopped coming after one final rally billed as the protesters' first anniversary. Moreno cited her family and the need to go to her own church on Sunday. Nightingale said the cost of gas was an issue for others.

"We're not through with that church," Nightingale said. "We still call ICE. We still call the IRS. We still hope there's an investigation."

In it for the long haul

Liliana lives with her son Pablito, who is now 17 months old. Her other children, ages 6 and 8, live with her parents in Oxnard but spend the night in the sanctuary house several times a week. Her husband, Gerardo, who works two jobs, is there every night.

Pablito was baptized as a Catholic at the church. Liliana's daughter Susy was an angel in the church's holiday pageant. Liliana was Mary.

Church members say they're providing sanctuary to keep the family together. They scoff at the notion that Liliana's life would be better if she was deported to a country where she has no family.

"As a mother, I would rather be confined to a home and not be able to go to the store and other places versus being completely isolated from my children," said church member Jeanie Mortensen. "I don't think there's a big, huge decision."

The congregation votes every three months on whether to keep providing sanctuary, with the next vote due in November. Church officials say one member has left the church because of concerns about security. Other congregants say they're living out their faith.

"We went into this for the long haul," Mortensen said. "If we profess to have certain values and are afraid to live by those values because we fear the consequences, then we're not really being true to our values."

Fewer illegal immigrants

The New Sanctuary Movement is sheltering 14 people across the country, including seven in California. Supporters say it keeps families together, puts a face on the immigration battle and raises the pressure for reform. Opponents say the movement has achieved little.

They say immigration raids and enforcement have grown steadily over the past year. The Center for Immigration Studies, which advocates tougher enforcement, claims the number of illegal immigrants has decreased by about 1.3 million people over the past year.

"I think that should probably tell you where the nation is going," said Bryan Griffith, the center's spokesman. "Currently, it's veering toward enforcement."

Illegal immigrants are leaving, but the lack of jobs is the primary reason, said Frank D. Bean, director for the Center for Research on Immigration at UC Irvine. He said the chances of reform will increase with the presidential election, but the struggling economy remains a roadblock.

Bean compared the sanctuary movement to the Minutemen who patrol the border looking for illegal immigrants. Neither group is going to change national policy, but both influence the way people think about immigration.

"They're kind of mirror images of each other," he said.

Liliana's lawyers are using the Freedom of Information Act to try to procure her immigration records. They say she may qualify for legal status on the basis of her marriage. They say they're trying to find a way she can return to Oxnard until her case is resolved.

They don't know how long that process will last. Niels Frenzen, an immigration law expert at University of Southern California not involved in the case, said 12 months feels long only to people not used to the process.

"A year is nothing for immigration law," he said.



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