Immigration enforcement breaking up Delaware families

Jose Santillan was on his way to his tire shop when a team of men descended on him feet from his Stanton-area home last month.

The men had sprung out of a car and van and asked for his identification before patting him down and handcuffing him. Confused and horrified, his wife, who has been with him for 32 years, stood near their front door and asked, "Why?" 

"Because he's not allowed to be here," she was told.

Santillan is now in a Philadelphia jail, awaiting a September court hearing. 

And like that, the family became an example of where the enforcement of immigration laws intersect with economic, security and humanitarian issues. It gets more complicated when undocumented immigrants, such as Santillan, have families.

Efforts by President Donald Trump's administration to deter crossings along the Mexico-U.S. border resulted in more than 2,000 child migrants separated from their parents or guardians. 

Trump, who has said illegal immigrants are responsible for bringing gangs, drugs and killers into the country, ended its family separation policy in June following widespread protests. 

U.S. District Judge Dana Sabraw, who ordered the administration to reunite all the families, held a hearing Aug. 3 in which he criticized the government's effort to reunite families, calling it "unacceptable."

More than 1,400 have been reunited under Sabraw's order, but more than 700 children remain separated because their parents were either deported or the government raised concerns about their parents, according to USA Today.

The breaking up of families is not just along the border. It's also happening in Delaware, according to Maria Matos, president and CEO of the Latin American Community Center in Wilmington, where about 30 people were detained by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents in June during a raid at an apartment complex near New Castle. The raid left many in the community, especially children, traumatized and unwilling to leave their homes. 

"They don't know if when they come home, their parents are going to be there," said Matos. "They don't know if the next telephone call is going to be from the mom or the dad telling them 'I'm not coming home for dinner. I got deported.'

"It's a crisis situation."

Some undocumented immigrants who have been in the country for years have children who were born in the U.S. About 4 million illegal immigrant adults lived with their minor or adult U.S.-born children, according to 2014 estimates by Pew Research Center.

Recent data shows that immigration court cases now involve more long-time undocumented residents, according to Syracuse University's TRAC Immigration database, which monitors enforcement activities by the federal government.

For example, in March, court records showed that 10 percent of immigrants in new cases brought by the Department of Homeland Security had just arrived in this country, while 43 percent arrived two or more years ago, the report said.

From May 2013 to February 2017, more than 75 percent of all court cases involved those who had only recently arrived, according to the report. 

"During this period the Obama Administration had prioritized recent illegal entrants to the country," the report states. "Faced with a growing court backlog and not enough judges to hear and decide new cases, [federal Department of Homeland Security] believed this focus would serve as a more effective deterrent. Concentrating limited resources in this manner naturally increased the odds that recent illegal entrants and over-stayers would be promptly deported.

"The plot shows that President Trump's change in enforcement priorities quickly resulted in a sharp uptick in long-term residents brought before the court."

Matos said separating families creates unintended consequences. For example, when separating U.S.-born children from parents who financially supported them, the child must then be cared for by the government.

"This government is cutting off their nose to spite their face," she said. 

Father Carlos Ochoa, an assistant pastor at Holy Angels Church near Newark and coordinator of the Catholic Diocese of Wilmington Hispanic Ministry, said the separation can also create anger and resentment among children losing their parents. 

"They see what's done with their parents and they feel rejected," Ochoa said. "And sometimes they have an anger or an attitude toward other communities because of what is occurring with their families."

Children are also growing fearful, which at times has become collective, that they will arrive home and not find their parents. 

Santillan's family acknowledges Jose entered the United States illegally 16 years ago, but they also point to the good he created in the time since arriving in Delaware.

This includes opening a business that employs tax-paying workers, starting an Alcoholics Anonymous program in Claymont and instilling the importance of an education in his four children – one of whom is close to finishing her education degree. 

"They don't see the good things, they only focus on the bad things," Santillan's oldest daughter, Andrea Santillan, said about how some portray illegal immigrants as nothing more than rapists and murderers.  

While there are bad people who are in this country undocumented, Santillan said most came to America because they sought opportunities not offered to them in their native lands and they are willing to work hard to make it here. 

"We came here illegally," said his daughter, who has since become a legal resident. "Yes, I do understand that. But it was not because we wanted to. It's because we didn't have any other option. We had to do this because our country didn't provide the basics of life." 

"We're just asking them for another chance to be part of this great nation," she said. "We're not a bad people. We are hard workers. We didn't do anything bad."

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Discretion in prosecution

In an era where immigration has risen to the top of the national dialogue, Santillan's illegal status casts shadows over any positives he may have accomplished.

Royce Bernstein Murray, policy director at the American Immigration Council, said deportations were ramped up under former President Barack Obama. But in the latter part of that administration, it was made clear they were prioritizing people with a criminal history or who had arrived very recently. 

"So you were not seeing a lot of individuals getting picked up, detained and deported if they had been here a while and had not had a criminal history or not presented some sort of public safety threat," she said. 

Now, any interaction with ICE likely will result in someone getting arrested if they don't have valid status, she said. And if a person has an old removal order, they are prioritized under this administration because they are easier to deport.

"They can just re-execute the old order," Murray said. 

David C. Weiss, U.S. Attorney for the District of Delaware, said that in assessing these types of cases, federal prosecutors look at circumstances such as how many times an individual has been in and out of the country, his or her criminal history and if there is a risk to public safety. 

"Those kind of things are the factors we're going to consider in determining whether a prosecution ... is appropriate," Weiss said. "We went through that process here and we determined it was appropriate to proceed." 

Santillan was convicted of three domestic incidents, all misdemeanors, in the early 2000s – before he was deported in 2007. 

While family separation is a factor in this case, Weiss said it is not much different than any other criminal case where a person is taken away from their loved ones. 

"These are the unfortunate consequences of these prosecutions, when you prosecute somebody, and ultimately if disposition is one which calls for incarceration, there is separation," he said. 

"This is different from the border, but the prospect of separation from family is certainly present here as it would be in most of the cases we prosecute," Weiss said. 

"It's not something you do reflexively," he said. "It's something that requires thought and deliberation. And our office carefully considers these cases, as we do all the others."

Murray said there is always discretion on how the law is applied, meaning that officials are always looking to find the right balance.

"When someone has built a life here, there isn't much to gain from deporting them," Murray said. "Rather you end up with a fractured family that is less likely to thrive and integrate and succeed."

Coming to America

Santillan was 30 when immigration officials said he originally entered the United States.

They said the Mexico City native illegally entered the country near Nogales, Arizona. He settled in the Claymont area, sleeping in an auto shop he worked in, according to stories he's told his children. His family suspects he came to Delaware because he had a friend here. 

Soon, Santillan brought his wife and two daughters to Delaware.

Although he worked hard to support his family, which grew by two more children after arriving in Delaware, Santillan battled alcoholism. This caused problems at home, leading to domestic charges in the mid-2000s. 

Santillan was convicted of misdemeanor charges and served his probation, according to court records. 

Then, in September 2007, Santillan was deported to Mexico.

His absence created a financial burden on his family, causing his wife to work more to support their four children. Andrea worked as a waitress and at a cleaning service and cared for her younger siblings while she attended college and finished up her business management degree. 

"Thank God we succeeded," she said about that experience. 

About three months later, Santillan re-entered the United States – a crime that would haunt him and his family years later as federal officials became more aggressive with its immigration laws. 

While being in the U.S. without legal status is not necessarily grounds for removal, returning to the country after being deported is a criminal matter. 

Under federal law, the maximum penalty for re-entry after deportation is a fine and imprisonment of up to 2 years, according to Greco Neyland, a New York criminal defense law firm. 

But if a person was removed because of a felony conviction or found guilty of three or more misdemeanors, the penalty can be up to 10 years in prison as well as a fine.

Another opportunity 

After Santillan's return, his family noticed a change.

"I have another opportunity and I'm not going to lose that," Andrea Santillan remembers her dad saying. "That's when he started to get more involved in our church."

In about 2013, Santillan became active in the Alcoholics Anonymous program at different Delaware churches, even encouraging other Hispanics battling an addiction to participate in the programs. 

"In the five years that I've known him, he's a man who has lifted himself personally and as a family man," said Ochoa, of the Wilmington's Diocese Hispanic Ministry. "And that example has also helped others. And not just at Holy Angels parish."

Santillan is a good example of a person who turned his life around for the better, Ochoa said.

"In the five years I've been here and have known him, his mission has been to help others and to show others that one can get out of depths they have placed themselves in," he said. 

Santillan's daughter said she saw other changes in her father following his deportation.

"When he got deported, I think he realized the harm that he made to us," she said.

He'd been selling tires at the farmers market, but now aspired to have his own business.

"All the time he was looking to go further," she said. "Then one day he told me, 'Can you help me open this shop?'"

It was a three-bay garage in the New Castle area.

Andrea Santillan remembers telling her dad the place was pretty big. 

"Yeah, but I want it," he told her. "I know we can do better with it."

With her help, he opened in 2015.

"Since then he's been working in his own company, hiring three persons," she said. "He's getting big. He's doing work he likes to do, which is tires and mechanics. I can't ask for more. He's doing a great job. 

"That's why it's very sad that now my dad is not here anymore – again," she said. 

Unlike the first time her father was deported, Andrea Santillan said the entire family is aware of the situation. 

"When he was deported in 2007, I was the oldest," she said. "My little ones [siblings] ... they were little. They did not understand what was happening. 

"But now, they're teenagers. They know and they're scared."

Her youngest brother and sister constantly worry what will become of them and their family. They wonder if they will remain in the country they were born in or have to move to a foreign nation. They worry that they might have to leave their school and friends. 

"All they know is this place – Delaware," Andrea Santillan said. 

Andrea Santillan's mother said she's unsure what's coming next. Does this mean she will return to Mexico if he is deported? She wonders about her children's future, who were born in the states. 

She also worries about her husband's alcoholism and if he might relapse if he's unable to stay in America. 

"I don't want that life for my children," she said.  

Jose Santillan's detention brings to life other stories his family has been hearing.

Families have told The News Journal they are on constant alert since Trump began his rhetoric on illegal immigration. In some cases, families hardly set foot outside of their homes other than to go to work or to the store. 

In one case, a woman was asked by her 9-year-old daughter to not take her to school anymore for fear the mother might be detained by ICE.

“What’s going to happen to me when you’re not here,” the woman recalled her daughter asking her.

"Since the beginning of this year, I have heard a lot of families being separated," Andrea Santillan said.

Because of that, she told her mother they needed a plan B. She remembers her dad telling her not to worry about it. 

"Nothing is going to happen," she said he told her.

But Andrea Santillan kept hearing stories, including one about a pregnant woman's husband being taken away, leaving the woman and children to fend for themselves. 

"And now it's our turn," Andrea Santillan said. "Now it's my family."

Contact Esteban Parra at (302) 324-2299, eparra@delawareonline.com or Twitter @eparra3.