TIJUANA,
Mexico — A long, grueling journey gave way to what could be a long,
uncertain asylum process Sunday as a caravan of immigrants finally
reached the border between the United States and Mexico, setting up a
dramatic moment and a test of President Trump’s anti-immigrant politics.
More
than 150 migrants, part of a caravan that once numbered about 1,200 and
headed north in March from Mexico’s border with Guatemala, were
prepared to seek asylum from United States immigration officials.
But
in what was likely to be one of many curves on the road, the migrants
were told Sunday afternoon that the immigration officials could not
process their claims, and they would have to spend the night on the
Mexican side of the border.
It
was only the latest twist in an immigration drama that has played out
in relative obscurity in recent years. Usually during the Easter season,
immigrants have headed north together as a form of protection against
the kidnappers, muggers and rapists who stalk the migrant trail, and to
draw attention to their plight. But this year it has become a volatile
flash point in the immigration debate ignited by Mr. Trump.
For the migrants, the moment was a fraught, deeply personal one.
Mario
Quintanillo, 30, and Cecilia Sarai Carillo, 23, who are from El
Salvador, were among four couples who wed at the beach in Tijuana on
Sunday morning, in the company of their 2-year-old daughter, Daryeline
Ariana.
They planned to apply for asylum at the American border, but knew there
was a good chance that they would be split up during the process —
possibly for months.
“But
I’m going with the feeling that it’s going to be worth the effort,”
said Mr. Quintanillo. He said his family were fleeing a gang that had
attacked him and killed a close relative. “In the name of God,
everything is possible,” he said.
Overlaying
the personal struggles was a dense tangle of politics and policy — the
ill will between Mr. Trump and Mexico that began the day he announced
his candidacy; the acrimony between Mr. Trump and Gov. Jerry Brown of
California over immigration; the politics of sanctuary cities; and the
political logjam in Congress over funding Mr. Trump’s proposed border
wall.
It
all plays out in the context of Mr. Trump’s goal of making immigration a
galvanizing issue in the midterm elections with Republicans worried
about losing control of the House and perhaps the Senate.
Heather
Cronk, co-director of Showing Up for Racial Justice, one of several
American advocacy groups that have been helping the caravan and its
participants, traveled to Tijuana to support the migrants in the final
stretch.
“For
us, this is all about who we are as a country,” she said. She added:
“This is an existential moment. This is a spiritual moment. I want it to
be true that when we say, ‘Liberty and justice for all,’ we mean it.”
It is a debate Mr. Trump apparently relishes.
With
the migrants on the doorstep of the United States, Mr. Trump, in a
tweet last week, ratcheted up his rhetoric, vowing “not to let these
large Caravans of people into our Country.”
Mr.
Trump repeatedly came back to immigration issues at a rally in Michigan
on Saturday night, saying at one point: “If we don’t get border
security, we’ll close down the country,” apparently referring to a
government shutdown when a funding deadline is reached in September.
Other administration officials have also been vocal.
Attorney General Jeff Sessions called the caravan “a deliberate attempt to undermine our laws and overwhelm our system.”
Joined by supporters and dozens of members of the news media, the
migrants gathered in a park on the Pacific Ocean about 10 a.m. local
time and then later on a pedestrian plaza in front of a community center
in downtown Tijuana. Scores of supporters, some of whom had walked from
as far as Los Angeles, rallied Sunday morning just north of the fence
separating the United States from Mexico on the American side of the
oceanfront park.
What
was supposed to be the final act of the caravan began about 3:30 p.m.,
when more than 150 of the participants, accompanied by relatives,
supporters and the press, marched several blocks to a border crossing in
Tijuana called El Chaparral. As they walked, they chanted and waved
Honduran flags.
To
qualify for asylum, applicants must prove they have been persecuted or
fear persecution based on their race, religion, nationality, political
beliefs or membership in a particular group.
People
who request protection at a United States entry point must be referred
to an asylum officer for a screening, known as a credible-fear
interview. If the officer finds that an applicant has a chance of
proving fear of persecution, the person must then present his or her
case before a judge. More than three quarters of applicants pass that
initial review.
“We’re
only sending people who we think will pass the credible-fear
interview,” said Nicole Ramos, a volunteer immigration lawyer helping
the caravan.
But
Customs and Border Protection, whose officers are stationed at ports of
entry, announced late Sunday that it had exhausted its capacity to
handle people traveling without documents.
Still,
caravan organizers escorted some 50 participants along the long,
elevated pedestrian walkway at El Chaparral that leads from Tijuana to
the entrance to the United States in San Diego. At the gate leading into
the American immigration checkpoint, American border authorities
reaffirmed that they would not be able to process any more
asylum-seekers on Sunday.
Alex
Mensing, project coordinator for Pueblo Sin Fronteras, a transnational
group that organized the caravan, told reporters gathered at El
Chaparral that the migrants would remain at the gate, overnight if
necessary, until border officials once again had the capacity to process
them.
“We
wish that the United States government were capable of accepting more
than a few hundred asylum seekers at any given time, since we can
certainly pick up more than a 1,000 people in an ICE raid on any given
day,” he said, referring to Immigration and Customs Enforcement, an arm
of the Homeland Security Department.
Meanwhile,
the rest of the asylum seekers, their relatives and supporters laid out
blankets on a plaza outside the entrance to El Chaparral and prepared
for a long, chilly night.
When
they get a chance to make their case, migrant families that request
asylum at the port of entry are likely to be placed on buses to Texas,
where they will remain in detention centers for mothers and children.
Adult men are likely to be detained in any number of facilities across
the country that hold undocumented immigrants.
It
is in these facilities that the migrants would be screened by United
States immigration officials over the next several days. If they pass
the credible-fear interview, the migrants will be allowed to make their
case for asylum before an immigration judge, a process that unfolds over
several months or longer.
Migrants,
typically fitted with ankle monitors, often are allowed to travel to
the interior of the country, where they stay with relatives or friends
while their cases run their course.
Mr.
Trump, however, has denounced that practice because some migrants have
skipped their court hearings; he dismissed it as “catch and release.” In
recent months, migrant advocates say, the Trump administration has kept
many migrants seeking asylum in detention.
For
all the high political stakes, the human stakes for the individual
migrants planning to seek asylum Sunday were at least as high.
Byron
Claros, a Salvadoran immigrant, joined the caravan with his 18-year-old
brother, Luis Alexander Rodriguez, and their stepfather, Andres
Rodríguez.
Mr.
Claros and Mr. Rodriguez planned to petition for asylum Sunday
afternoon; their stepfather, after consultation with volunteer lawyers
in Tijuana, decided that his case for sanctuary was not strong enough
and that he would remain behind in Mexico.
“The
hour I’ve waited for my entire life has finally arrived,” Mr. Claros
said early Sunday afternoon as he, hundreds of migrants, scores of their
supporters, reporters and cameramen gathered in and in front of a
community center and cafe in the downtown district of Tijuana, blocks
from the border crossing.
Mr. Rodriguez said he was nervous, “because the United States can support our rights but can also deny us our rights.”
Still, he said, there was only one way to push: north.
“We’ve fought too much to get here,” he said. “And we’re here.”
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