Faces of immigration: Border agent describes 15 years of change
BY CINDY CARCAMO
THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
February 23, 2011

U.S. Border Patrol Agent Michael Jimenez has seen a lot in his 15 years guarding the 60-mile border dividing the U.S. and Mexico south of San Diego.

He's come across a five-months-pregnant woman trekking hard through dangerous terrain, leaving her male counterparts in the dust. He's detained the same group twice in the same week and at the same spot. And there were the Mexican nationals who attached blankets to the back of their shoes in an attempt to erase the footprints behind them.

Some have begged him to let them go. Others have wrestled him to the ground. One man even threatened him and brandished a knife.

On a mountaintop not too far from Smuggler's Gulch, Jimenez looked over Imperial Beach on Border Field State Park and the multilevel mansions on the Mexican side and talked to reporters on a border tour. A storm moved in and the wind whipped around as he described how the area has morphed dramatically since he became an agent in 1996.

That's when he escaped the confines of his prior office life in accounting and banking for a career that put his athletic and Spanish-language skills to use along with his love for the outdoors. A long-time mid-distance runner, Jimenez became the lead runner in his U.S. Border Patrol graduating class, finishing 1.5 miles at 8 minutes and 14 seconds.

That will and endurance has helped Jimenez adapt to the skirmishes along the border where smugglers and their human cargo battle it out with U.S. agents on a daily basis. Each side has become increasingly creative in an attempt to get a leg up on what some compare to a demilitarized zone out of a Cold War movie.

"This is as reinforced as it gets," Jimenez said as he drove along the fortified border looking for signs of foot traffic.

A black line crossed over his badge – a sign of mourning for a fallen comrade. This time it was an Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent who was killed in Mexico City. Not long ago, however, it was Border Patrol Agent Robert Wimer Rosas Jr. who was killed while on patrol in Campo in the summer of 2009.

Despite all he's seen, Jimenez, one of 2,600 agents in the San Diego sector, said he enjoys his work and feels like he's made an honest difference in protecting his nation's border.

Some have questioned his passion.

"How do you do this job?" some critics have asked him. "You're ruining someone's dreams."

He said it can be harsh to hear.

"Someone can have that opinion," he said. "I take pride in the work I do protecting my country. At the same time I do recognize if someone is in need. I think I make a difference."

While he said he's helped keep out people who may pose serious threats to the U.S., he also feels good about coming to the rescue of those who become stuck crossing the dangerous terrain that can change from brushy desert to snowy mountains in a matter of miles.

Death isn't an unusual fate to those who cross. The memory of a 20-something couple still haunts him to this day, he said.

It was some time after 2000, Jimenez said, and he was guarding a woman in a hospital. She'd ended up on life support after the car she was in had overturned and crashed. She was a passenger attempting to cross illegally into the country. Jimenez, who is fluent in Spanish, helped translate for the husband, a Mexican national who was in the same vehicle but unharmed.

"They were coming to this country, you could say, for a better life, and she was injured in this accident," Jimenez said.

Medical officials asked Jimenez to tell the husband about her dire condition.

"I told him he could say goodbye before they unhooked the equipment," Jimenez recalled. "They did and almost immediately the blood drained from her face and she became very white. It was moving to see him see the loss of his wife. They were young. You don't expect to die coming into the country. He was holding on to her hand. To see a young man losing his wife, suffering and crying?"

BORDER CHANGES

The border can be a game of cat-and-mouse.

Surveillance cameras hover above Vietnam War-era mats that were once used as helicopter landing pads in Vietnam. The rusty castoffs now serve as a primary fence that stretches about 46 miles. It's supposed to stop vehicular traffic from coming into the country, Jimenez explained.

Just north of that are 14 miles of secondary fencing that towers 12 feet high between both countries. Box-like patches freckle the fence – scars left behind by eager people sawing or axing their way into the U.S. illegally. Magnetic sensors dot the area, tipping off agents to movement that can sometimes be just a lone coyote or dog.

The imposing secondary fence that snakes its way into the Pacific Ocean wasn't always there. Before the additional layers of infrastructure, personnel and enhanced technology erected during Operation Gatekeeper in the mid-1990s, the border was chaotic, Jimenez said. Outnumbered and underfunded and without the secondary fencing that now exists, Jimenez said the agency had to contend with "banzai runs," where dozens of people would stampede north, ending up in the southbound lanes of Interstate 5.

It was easy for some of them to assimilate into the dense and urban San Diego population.

"It was common to apprehend a thousand people in a day," Jimenez said.

The San Diego sector became the most active smuggling corridor along the nation's border, Jimenez said. People would even play soccer along the border waiting for nightfall to come so they could illegally sneak into the United States.

Agents were assaulted with rocks and worse, Jimenez said. He pointed across the international line to what he described as a dangerous Mexican neighborhood, called Colonia Libertad, just on the other side of the border.

Graffiti-scrawled apartments and homes – some covered with black tarps – used to be a staging ground for smugglers, Jimenez explained.

White smoke wafted from what was likely burning garbage piles as dog and children howled in chorus in time with several crowing roosters.

"It's never quiet here," Jimenez said.

Coordination between Mexican and U.S. officials have somewhat transformed the neighborhood from the nuisance it once was.

CREATIVE SMUGGLING TECHNIQUES

Crossing the border illegally has become increasingly difficult, dangerous and costly. The tightened security has forced people east into the harsh Arizona desert, into underground tunnels or to small boats on the ocean.

Some have become quite creative.

On a particularly windy day about eight years ago, Jimenez recalled, one of the U.S. Border Patrol agents saw a large trash bag that seemed to be blown by the wind near a canal between the US and Mexico border. But something seemed off, Jimenez said the agent told him. The agent then saw what looked like the outline of a person's knee. Soon he discovered that it was a man inside a bag who had tried to roll himself into the United States, making it seem as though the wind was blowing the bag.

On another occasion, Jimenez, who's been assigned tracking foot traffic duties in the past, said he's seen people on their fingertips and toes to get across the border in an attempt to leave as little trace as possible.

He said his Latino surname on his uniform and his looks has added a particular dynamic to his job.

Latinos crossing illegally will tell speak with him in Spanish.

"You're a Mexican ... a paisano. Come on. Let me go," they'll ask him. "Give me a chance."

Jimenez said he doesn't take the comments personally.

"I make it clear that I'm doing my job," he said. "I'm enforcing the law."

Jimenez said he's never let anyone go. He said you never know who it is that you're dealing with. That person may seem harmless but could be a drug runner, murderer or someone who might kill a border agent next time.

"You always have to have your guard up," he said.

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