Spanish Radio Tunes In to Immigration Quandaries

"We're never giving advice to people that are undocumented about how to skirt the law," Alcazar said. "But the perception is that just because you're doing an immigration show, you're doing that."

Park, who pays for his airtime and says most of his clients were once listeners, said he considers his show a community service for immigrants trying to find their way in the United States. It's something he can relate to. When Park was 7, his father, a minister, moved the family to Bolivia from Korea. When he was 18, the family relocated to Los Angeles. Park, fluent in Spanish by then but knowing not a word of English, flipped burgers and performed other service jobs. To learn English, he listened to radio news. Four years later, he began college at the University of Southern California.

"They make so many mistakes -- fatal mistakes," he said of his clients and listeners. "When I'm able to resolve their issues, there's something about that. There's a tickle in your heart."

Jorge Rivera, 30, a listener, made an appointment with Park last year when his application for permanent residency -- sponsored by his wife, a U.S. citizen -- remained pending despite a three-year wait. "They lost my papers up and down," the Sterling flooring contractor, speaking in Spanish, said of the federal immigration system.

With Park's help, Rivera's case was approved in six months. Now armed with a green card, Rivera -- still a regular listener -- will return to El Salvador for the first time in 13 years to celebrate the Easter holidays with family.

Park makes no secret that he makes a living from his work. Park's listeners all are familiar with the tales of his hungry piggy bank. Jokes are part of his on-air shtick -- and something that helps lighten a frightening topic, he said.

On a recent Saturday morning, Park sat in La Campeona's small studio, housed on the second floor of a squat commercial building, upstairs from a Western Union depot, a Mexican video shop and a Salvadoran restaurant.

When a man named Romeo called, Park inquired about Juliet's whereabouts. ("That's what I want to know!" Romeo responded.) During another call, Park asked if Milton Garcia, a Honduran, had a PT or PA visa. Deejay Isaias Flores explained.

"PT means por tierra ," or "by land," said Flores, 23, with a grin. "PA means por agua ," or by water, he said.

Park's casual and blunt style has brought him a loyal following of listeners, many of whom call more than once. The show also has brought him a dash of celebrity. On a recent day, Park said, he was speaking on his cellphone at a Manassas Baja Fresh restaurant when the cashier, hearing the lawyer's voice, pointed at him and said, "Park."

Between the laughs, Park turns serious, denouncing proposed legislation that would punish illegal immigrants and urging listeners to protest -- and to bring a U.S. flag if they do.

"That's the most American thing to do, to show up and demonstrate in a peaceful way," he said.

After the recent show, Park headed to his sparsely decorated office in the Alexandria section of Fairfax County. Cayetano Medina, 64, was there, waiting for a consultation. Each Saturday for the past three years, he said, he has listened to Park's show. Now he needed help himself.

Medina sat down, setting a black baseball cap, a Bible studies workbook and a brown paper sack holding neat copies of his immigration documents on a chair next to him. In a voice clouded with concern, Medina, of Woodbridge, told Park in Spanish that he had just returned from a four-month stay in his native El Salvador, where he went to bury his wife. Would his absence jeopardize his pending citizenship application?

"I don't have anyone to help me," Medina said.

"Nothing will happen," Park said, shaking his head and explaining that Medina was in the clear because he was gone less than six months. His fears assuaged, Medina rose to leave.