The Modesto Bee
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Posted on Mon, Dec. 10, 2007
Citizenship was in sight, until she cast her first vote
By ANTONIO OLIVO
CHICAGO TRIBUNE
last updated: December 10, 2007 04:34:12 AM

BLOOMINGTON, Ill. -- Beth Keathley was so close to becoming a permanent U.S. resident that she already could feel its benefits showering over her: a Social Security number, a cheery new house, an official state identification card. Citizenship would not be far behind.

On the day the Filipino immigrant took part in her first U.S. election last fall, she proudly sported an "I voted" lapel pin on her uniform when she showed up for her cleaning shift at a hospital.

But Keathley, who has lived in the United States on a marriage visa since 2003, was not a citizen when she voted. When she told an immigration officer about it, she was charged with breaking the law.

She lost her job.

It could derail her citizenship and, unless a judge rules in her favor, she eventually could be deported -- uprooting a family that includes the couple's 9-month-old daughter, Sheina.

Keathley's crime -- one that trips up hundreds of immigrants each year -- took place at the Department of Motor Vehicles office in Bloomington, where a clerk invited her to register to vote, as part of the "Motor Voter" program.

Immigration laws prohibit noncitizens from registering to vote. But Keathley says the clerk saw her Filipino passport as part of the application for a state identification card. She figured if a state employee offered her the opportunity to register, it must be OK.

The state says its employees are prohibited by federal law from seeking confirmation of citizenship before registering people to vote.

And federal officials say the question on the registration form that asks applicants to affirm that they are citizens is clear enough.

Intentional voter fraud is a real problem, they say, and they have to enforce the laws.

'Easier to register'

There are no records kept to accurately reflect the size of the problem. But immigration attorneys around the country have seen a steady increase in recent years of deportation cases and declined citizenship because of illegal voting, said Carlina Tapia-Ruano, a Chicago attorney who is the immediate past president of the Washington-based American Immigration Lawyers Association.

Before the National Voter Registration Act of 1993, also known as the Motor Voter law, registration took place before a sworn election official, usually inside an election board office building or voting precinct -- places hard to find for even native-born citizens.

Today, in addition to voter registration materials being available at the DMV and other public agencies, "you can literally be registered while walking down the street," Tapia-Ruano said, referring to election season volunteers with clipboards of mail-in forms meant to boost voter turnout.

"You didn't see these cases as much before because it was harder; people had to take more steps," she said. "Now, it's easier to register to vote. But the downside is people are getting innocently trapped in this situation."

By the time a flood of political pamphlets came in the mail last year, Keathley was settling into her new life in Bloomington -- a town of big-box retail stores and wood-paneled homes.

It was a far cry from the mostly rural Philippine island of Mindanao where she had worked as a machine operator for a microchip manufacturing company that paid her the equivalent of $4 per day. Her impressions of the United States came from urban TV dramas.

"I said: 'Oh, I thought there were no trees in America,' " Keathley recalled, after arriving in Bloomington with her husband, John. "And the snow. It caught me by surprise."

Form shows she checked a box

Before long, Keathley was handling the household bills and shopping for a house with John, a customer service agent at a home improvement store. Keathley, who was issued a work permit, found a $9-per-hour cleaning job at a hospital, earning a stack of glowing performance reviews that she keeps stored in a box.

Then she went to get her ID card and ended up registering to vote. The form shows that she checked a box indicating that she was a citizen; she says she does not remember doing it.

"The person who helped me, he was kind of old and he just hurry, hurry up me," Keathley said. "I just say 'Yes.' I don't know. I just got here. I don't really understand what he mean. I thought they must know what they are doing."

Under federal anti-discrimination law, state workers aren't allowed to confirm an applicant's citizenship before processing a voter registration form, said Beth Kaufman, spokeswoman for the Illinois secretary of state's office.

"Our job is to ask whether you want to register to vote and, if the person says 'yes,' we give them a sheet to sign from the Board of Elections that says: 'Are you a citizen of the United States?' and you check that box 'yes' or 'no,' and you sign it," Kaufman said. "We are not allowed to ask anything else."

Some immigrants, confused, leave the question unanswered and still receive voter registration cards, Tapia-Ruano said.

Others knowingly engage in voter fraud, in some cases participating in multiple elections, said Marilu Cabrera, a Chicago spokeswoman for U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, which handles citizenship applications.

"It's very important to understand that, if you have a green card, you are not eligible to vote," Cabrera said, adding that her agency comes across such problems after every election and reviews them on a case-by-case basis. "More often than not, we'll deny the (citizenship) case, but they're not put into (deportation) proceedings.

"If someone shows a clear intent to lie and commit fraud, then, absolutely, they'll be put into proceedings," Cabrera said.

The Keathleys say intent has been ignored in their case.

Their attorney, Richard Hanus, contends that federal immigration law doesn't consider the possibility that such actions are a mistake. He hoped to convince a judge that Beth Keathley is of good moral character.

"We're talking about a family unit with a child and a woman with no previous criminal behavior whatsoever who has followed immigration laws to the tee," Hanus said. "What took place is, at worst, an innocent mistake and not an act that was done in any malicious way."

'You're in trouble now'

Keathley said she got the first hint of trouble at work.

In her sixth month of pregnancy, Keathley had arrived at the hospital after voting -- she says she can't recall for who or what.

A co-worker, also from the Philippines, who knew of her immigrant status noticed Keathley's "I voted" pin and said: "Oh, Beth, you're in trouble now."

Keathley rushed home that night to inform her husband. Both shrugged off their doubts and prepared for her citizenship interview.

Inside a federal immigration office in downtown Chicago, Keathley said, a government official chuckled in disbelief when Keathley told the agent she had voted. The official ended the interview.

"She said, 'You don't realize it looks like you're trying to steal our citizenship?' " Keathley recalled. "I'm not trying to steal."

She cried during most of the three-hour trip home, she said.

Immigration authorities refuse to comment on the specifics of Keathley's case.

It will be reviewed by a federal judge next year. While in legal limbo, Keathley has been forced to quit working and lost her medical insurance.

John Keathley said the experience has hardened his views on immigration, making him resent those who are here illegally.

"Here we jumped through all the hoops ... and we get slammed," he said. "We've done everything the right way."

Beth Keathley lies awake at night filled with remorse.

"I think about how this affects us financially and how we have a baby. I'm losing my job and we don't have enough to eat," she confided, during a moment when her husband is out of the room. "John says: 'Just don't think about it.' I don't know. I want this life."

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