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As Border Crackdown Intensifies, A Tribe Is Caught in the Crossfire
Ofelia Rivas, a Tohono O'odham activist, is tracked by the Border Patrol whenever she visits Alir Jegk, near the border. The tribe is closing the border crossing behind her, one of its traditional paths to Mexico, at agents' request.
(John Pomfret -- The Washington Post)
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"The pressures have dramatically increased on the tribe over the last five years," said Robert A. Williams, a law professor at the University of Arizona who works as a judge in the tribe's courts. "The community is fairly well isolated, so they are very vulnerable to coyotes [immigrant smugglers] and drug runners. We've seen signs of gang activity coming from L.A. and Mexican gangs coming up."
Fifteen years ago, the nation, invoking its limited sovereignty, barred the Border Patrol from the reservation because its agents harassed the population, said Eileen M. Luna-Firebaugh, an expert on American Indian policy at the University of Arizona. But that policy changed after drug and immigrant smuggling skyrocketed, although the tribe was always more focused on narcotics, she said.
The tribe is home to the Shadow Wolves, a storied, largely Indian unit of U.S. Customs and Border Protection that uses ancient tracking techniques to chase down drug smugglers. But after the creation of the Department of Homeland Security, the Border Patrol has run the Shadow Wolves and has shifted their focus away from drugs and toward immigrant smuggling, prompting several senior officers to quit.
Nonetheless, under Juan-Saunders's leadership, which began in 2003, the tribal council has welcomed more federal law enforcement. It has allowed the Border Patrol to establish two permanent facilities on its land. It recently agreed to the construction of a 75-mile vehicle barrier, costing more than $1 million a mile, to replace the wobbly fence.
The tribe has complied with Border Patrol wishes to close one traditional gate connecting the American side of its land to the Mexican side. It has also recently consented to allow the National Guard to operate on the border, on the condition that the Guard repairs roads and "respects the people and the laws of this land," Juan-Saunders said.
Winning that respect, however, has not been easy. Tribal members are routinely harassed by federal agents, Juan-Saunders said. "They cross property without asking. They enter homes without knocking," she said.
In March, Juan-Saunders was driving her 8-year-old son in her Jeep, going 45 mph in a 55 zone, when she was ordered to pull over by a Border Patrol officer. She stopped by the side of the road, and the officer leapt out of his vehicle and pointed his gun at her. "Now I know what my constituents are experiencing," she said.
Juan-Saunders acknowledged having mixed feelings about ceding more of her nation's sovereignty to federal agencies. "But we are in dire straits here," she said.
Chuy Rodriguez, a spokesman for the Border Patrol in Tucson, said relations between the Border Patrol and the tribe are "getting better and better over time."
"There's a lot more dialogue with folks in positions of power," he said. He said that Border Patrol community relations officers make regular visits to the reservation and that his agency has established a process for complaints. Tribal representatives instruct Border Patrol agents about the tribe and its traditions.
"We can't go into anyone's property," he said. "We have to get someone from the Tohono O'odham police to come. However, if it's hot pursuit, it's a different story."
Back in Alir Jegk, Margaret Garcia, 68, and an older neighbor, Francisco Garcia, sum up the pressures facing the tribe.
Margaret Garcia, who lives in a two-room shack with, at last count, 19 cats and six dogs, said she awoke late one night to discover that Border Patrol agents, with shotguns and night-vision goggles, had established an observation post in her yard.
Francisco Garcia, on the other hand, used to live in Mexico. He was kicked out of his village by drug dealers, so he moved to the American side of the line. "I didn't want to die," he said.
"A long time ago there was no one but us," Margaret said. "It was peaceful. When the cactus was ripe, my daughters would go out with a stick to harvest the fruit. Now if we go out, the Border Patrol follows us. Everyone is a suspect."


