San Diego’s Clergy Offer Solace to Immigrants—and a Shield Against ICE

WITHA Dto him— Sitting in his office on the second floor in Church of Our Lady of Guadalupe In San Diego's Barrio Logan neighborhood, Father Scott Santarosa explained the moral imperative to personally chronicle what ICE is doing to families across the United States. As a framed poster of slain Salvadoran priest Oscar Romero hung above his desk, he told me, “Someone needs to bear witness to the dignity of people in this incredibly dark moment and dark place.”

Santarosa is the American version of a liberation theologian. He highlights the stories of missing migrants in the country, just as Romero read aloud on the radio the names of victims of El Salvador's dirty war. At the start of Trump 2.0's War on Immigrants, San Diego Bishop Michael Pham found that ICE was less likely to engage in mass arrests of immigrants in the presence of clergy. So he decided that the clergy would come to the courthouse every day while it was in session, and he put Santarosa in charge of a project known as FAITH—Faithful accompaniment in trust and hope.

Santaros' father accepted the task. Completed training San Diego Organization ProjectHe and hundreds of volunteers are heading to the federal courthouse to console immigrants summoned to register. By complying with government demands, these immigrants risk being caught by masked ICE agents. However, if they fail to register, their immigration cases are automatically canceled and they are at even greater risk of deportation.

Santarosa is a tall, lean man with a tough-as-nails face beneath a kind smile. He and his volunteers accompany migrants from the elevator to the courtroom, hoping their presence will reduce the likelihood of migrants being detained during the process. They observe ICE “check-in” in a second-floor office adorned with a banner with the stars and stripes and the words, “With honor and integrity, we will defend the American people, our homeland, and our values,” and they appear at the Intensive Surveillance Appearance Program (ISAP) site. ISAP is an ICE program that provides leg monitors to migrants who are not immediately detained. They also hold mass pickets outside the courthouse downtown. Santarosa has no illusions: he knows that his actions alone will not clog the deportation machine, but he believes that small gestures can add up to moral strength. “You are David rising against Goliath,” he admitted. “But you're the David who didn't go to the gym. The odds are stacked against you. It's kind of crazy. But that's the story of our faith; we're called to do crazy things.”

Inside the Edward J. Schwartz Federal Building, teams of volunteers work in two- and three-hour shifts. FAITH volunteers simply offer moral comfort: hugs, tissues to wipe away tears, and promises to contact the families of those about to be detained in the temporary ICE detention center in the building's basement. Next to them are Resisting arrest volunteers who photograph and record interactions with ICE agents and immigrants. The group is compiling a database of information it hopes will one day be used to hold Trump agencies legally accountable for removing immigrants from their communities and expediting deportation proceedings.

Stephanie Guth has spent much of the last six months organizing volunteer shifts. She told me that “part of bearing witness is sharing the story with others.” These volunteers have endured much heartbreak over the past few months, and many of them now feel something of a religious imperative to inform the wider community of what they see. “People are stripped of their dignity in this process,” said Patricio Gaffi, one of the volunteers. “I felt called to come and let people know that they are not alone. It's about lifting the veil of secrecy and letting the light shine on the darkness that's going on. What's happening in this federal courthouse is like another country.”

In many cities, residents have formed rapid response networks to fight back against ICE, but perhaps no other U.S. city has mobilized the faith community on such a large scale and as effectively as San Diego. “People come to do this,” Santarosa said. “Little old ladies do this—show up with their rosary beads. Bishop Pham believes that no matter what happens to immigrants, people will be able to say, 'The Church stood by me.' The Church must support people when they go against all odds, against injustice, when they are seen as expendable to be deported.”

However, the work is emotionally draining, and volunteers often have to conduct interviews outside the courthouse afterwards to decompress. “The worst thing is seeing families torn apart,” explained Nancy Francis, 66, who has been at the courthouse with Detention Resistance for much of the past eight months. “Seeing people separated and families crying and clinging to their loved ones.”

Since FAITH and deportation resistance volunteers began appearing in the courtroom, and in response to lawsuits against ICE's practice of kidnapping people in courtroom hallways, the agency's tactics have changed. Today, fewer masked agents roam the hallways with folders containing photographs of immigrants they hope to nab. More arrests are made at private ICE offices during mandatory immigration “check-ins.” This can hardly be considered a complete victory, but VERA volunteers believe that they have managed to reduce the total number of people captured and deported.

Moreover, at the urging of immigrant rights advocates, the city Vista And San Diego And San Diego County have enacted or are in the process of enacting ordinances prohibiting ICE from accessing city or county-owned facilities such as schools, recreation centers, social service sites, libraries, etc., without a warrant. The measures also prohibit these local governments from doing business with companies that contract with ICE to help them manage their detention and deportation mechanisms.

For a county once considered conservative, San Diego's immigration policies have changed surprisingly quickly in the Trump era. The more federal agents and agencies abuse the demonization of immigrants, the more residents fight back. And the more these residents resist, the more they form new political alliances aimed at protecting the community from Trump's far-right agenda. “Something was discovered among the San Diego public,” Santarosa said. “Because what is happening is unfair.”