This is Pastor Max Villatoro, his wife Gloria, and their four kids. Gloria is a legal resident and all four children are American citizens. Max, a native of Honduras, is not. And because of a desperate (and common) mistake he made soon after arriving illegally in this country many years ago, he sits tonight in a jail cell awaiting imminent return to Honduras--a place where he has no one and nothing to return to, far from his family, his church, and the community he greatly enriched.
I know this is is an all-too common story, that there are many millions of families who have been torn apart or are under threat of being capriciously separated at any time. But it would be difficult to find a clearer example of the brokenness and depravity of our immigration system than the story of this pastor, who has dedicated his life to serving man and God, being wrenched from his loving family and church.
For that reason, I hope you all will help us publicize and fight Max's deportation. It seems to me that even the rightiest of right wingers would be touched by the story of this man of God being cast out so cruelly. And if even a crack of light shines in the darkness, well, it's worth it.
A bit of background over the jump (I refuse to name the orange thing).
I don't know Max and his family well, or really much at all as a not-so-frequent church attendee. But I have thought about them all of the time since attending a service with my parents one Sunday early this fall and hearing him speak. Max, pastor of the Iglesia Menonita Torre Fuerte (the sister church based at my parent's First Mennonite Church in Iowa City), stood at the lectern and humbly, in halting English, described his difficult early life in Honduras: a place where an avocado or two constituted a meal, and there was no opportunity for education or even a job to support himself and his family. In desperation, he crossed the border illegally, like so many before him, in search of a better life. He quickly learned, from fellow immigrants, that life here wouldn't be much better unless he could somehow procure a Social Security number for employment purposes. This is the mistake Max made: he listened to them and was (relatively) promptly caught.
Years went by after the arrest, and Max married a citizen, had children and began his ministry at First Mennonite Church. He made a life here and set about helping the lives of others. He became a positive force in the community and a catalyst for positivity in the lives of others.
Then, years later, the government started deportation proceedings against him. On the day I heard him speak, he had just lost his final appeal. It seemed the die was cast and it was probably just a matter of time. We all rushed out to the lobby to sign last hope petitions. I spoke to Max briefly, thanked him for telling his story, and asked him what he had done in terms of media. As a former reporter, I knew he had a powerful story, one with some potential for reaching even the hardest of anti-immigration hearts, and I offered to call some of my few (and dwindling) contacts in DC to pitch the story. I sensed a bit of nervousness and reluctance, and backed off. I was new to the community and I really wasn't part of the church...
Obama's executive order--now stayed--gave some hope. And then, a few days ago, in the early morning hours before his children were even awake, Max was picked up.
Here is how the community responded:
http://www.kwwl.com/...
http://www.kcrg.com/...
For some reason these wouldn't embed, undoubtedly my lame tech skills. Please watch.
And here is a good AP write-up on the situation:
DES MOINES, Iowa (AP) — The wife of a longtime Iowa City pastor facing deportation to Honduras said Friday she is "devastated with this situation" but encouraged by the outpouring of support, including that of more than 100 people who rallied for his release this week outside the jail where he's being held.
Max Villatoro, 41, was arrested by immigration officials when he left his house for work Tuesday after more than 16 years of legal complications and two denied appeals to stop his removal from the country, culminating in his now imminent deportation. But Villatoro's wife, Gloria Villatoro, 33, and others in the Iowa City community say the man has turned his life around since his initial charge in 1998, and they're fighting to keep him here.
Max Villatoro is a pastor at First Mennonite Church who has lived in Iowa since he left his northern Honduran town in 1995 and arrived in the U.S. without legal permission. Deportation would separate him from his wife, a native of Mexico who was brought here when she was 8, and his four children, ages 7 through 15 and all U.S. citizens.
The rest is
here
Please, please tweet and Facebook this story to encourage national media to cover it. Max's A# is 094-338-085. Call ICE in Omaha at 402-536-4918, Cedar Rapids 319-286-4671 or U.S. Atty Kevin Techau at 319-363-6333 (option#9) with the message that Max belongs with his family, his congregation and community and should not be a priority for ICE (nor should any non-violent resident with such strong ties--four kids and a ministry!) Max may well be eligible for DAPA and his family should be kept together until such time that can be ruled on.
Again, I know that this is a story that occurs many times daily and is a national disgrace. But Max's story is special and making it big could help many other families.
Thanks, Kossacks. Please help me (us) make the difference for this family, that could easily become the face of what Obama's immigration order really means.