Activist's impact empowers both sides

Two days after federal officials ushered Elvira Arellano back to Mexico, deporting the illegal immigrant-turned-activist who holed up in a Chicago church for more than a year, the conversation she sparked continues with both sides as highly charged as ever.

The furor shows no signs of quieting. Nor does Arellano's role in it.

From her new outpost in Tijuana, Arellano -- arguably the nation's best-known undocumented immigrant -- incited activists of all ideological camps to action Monday as she's done for more than a year. She pledged to continue battling for immigration reform from afar.

Such sway could be the greatest legacy of Arellano's struggle and sanctuary for supporters and critics alike.

"Her sanctuary inspired people. Her arrest may mobilize people," said professor Amalia Pallares of the University of Illinois at Chicago, who studied Arellano's case.

Such momentum, ultimately, will be judged by whether legislative change results. Arellano's impact on that score may take time to gauge.

"To have a focal point, a face, a name, something that becomes a rallying cry, that's effective," said political science professor Kent Redfield of the University of Illinois at Springfield. "You've got to have organization, but you also have to make progress."

Wearing buttons that showed Arellano and her U.S.-born son, some four dozen immigrant advocates gathered Monday outside the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement office in Chicago's Loop to urge federal reform.

They called for a massive mobilization in Washington, D.C., next month, billing it as a "day without immigrants." Arellano planned to join a Sept. 12 vigil on the National Mall. With her gone, supporters said others now will pray and fast in her place.

"What Elvira Arellano did was say, 'OK, I'm going to put a human face on it all. I'm not going to be another anonymous person facing deportation,'æ" said Joshua Hoyt of the Illinois Coalition for Immigrant and Refugee Rights.

But such risks drew criticism from proponents of stricter immigration enforcement who lauded Arellano's arrest and deportation hours later. Her much-publicized standoff with federal immigration authorities -- Time magazine named Arellano one of the most influential people in 2006 -- also stirred her staunchest opponents to mobilize.

"In a perverse way, she has helped the cause of Americans' insistence on the rule of law by her utterly flouting such," said Ken Arnold of Gurnee.

Planning continues for Saturday's forum on immigration enforcement in Crystal Lake. Hosted by the Illinois Minuteman Project, the seminar will feature an Ohio sheriff whose deportation efforts have drawn attention nationwide. Counter protests are planned. Police officials pledge to guard "the safety and rights" of all.

The event marks McHenry County's first debate over illegal immigration. Arellano's name surely will be invoked, organization co-founder Rosanna Pulido said.

"This is just the beginning," Pulido said of Arellano's impact. "This is chapter two in the book. It is going to go on and on and on."

Arellano, a 32-year-old mother from Michoacan, came to the U.S. illegally a decade ago. Hired with the help of a fake Social Security card, she cleaned planes at O'Hare International Airport. In 2002, Arellano was snared in a security bust at U.S. airports and pleaded guilty to using fraudulent documents. With that felony on her record, she faced deportation.

A string of political reprieves ensued, when Arellano emerged as an activist for immigrant rights. She met then-Mexican President Vicente Fox and Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich.

But by 9 a.m. on Tuesday, Aug. 15, 2006, Arellano's time had run out. She was ordered to report to the Office of Homeland Security. She never showed. Arellano instead entered Adalberto United Methodist Church in the Puerto Rican neighborhood of Humboldt Park.

The step inside from the busy stretch of Division Street was her last in public until Thursday night. Arellano then slipped away to Los Angeles for a Saturday rally.

Just after 2 p.m. Sunday, federal immigration officials apprehended her. Eight hours later, they shepherded her to a crossing at San Ysidro, Calif. Mexican officials awaited her on the southern side of the border to "ensure her safe repatriation," agency spokeswoman Gail Montenegro said.

Arellano left her 8-year-old son, Saul, with her companions and caretakers when she was arrested. She calmed him down and blessed him, said Emma Lozano, Saul's guardian and head of the Centro Sin Fronteras immigrant rights group.

Immigration officers detained Arellano outside a Los Angeles church rather than during her yearlong sanctuary inside of the storefront church on Chicago's West Side because of safety concerns, Montenegro said.

Arellano joins the growing ranks of deported immigrants nationwide.

Federal officials deported 5,056 undocumented immigrants during the past nine months from Illinois, Wisconsin, Indiana, Kansas, Kentucky and Missouri, records show.

A reported 7,100 deportations occurred between October 2005 and September 2006, the fiscal year tracked by the federal government. Some 6,600 undocumented immigrants were returned home from October 2004 to September 2005.

"They've been steadily increasing," Montenegro said.

The Bush administration spelled out plans last week to crack down on undocumented immigrants and companies who knowingly hire them. The security push came after comprehensive reform languished in Congress.

Such emphasis on enforcement, epitomized by Arellano's deportation, heightened concern among many immigrant communities across Chicago and the suburbs. Ultimately, that, too, may be part of Arellano's legacy.

"Only time will tell us if what she did was the right time or the right move," Eddy Batres of Schaumburg said. "Only time will say."