Looking the Other Way on Immigrants

"You have cities facilitating the violation of federal law and tying the hands of their police forces in terms of when they can or can't ask about legal status," said Steven A. Camarota, research director for the Center for Immigration Studies. "You're also talking about a group of people who often work off-the-books but are getting access to expensive city services. It's not fair to everyone else paying the bill."

Hightstown Mayor Robert Patten, who hails from the core German-Irish stock in this heavily Democratic town, sees things differently. The town square, once peppered with empty storefronts, is brimming with new Latin American restaurants and remittance centers. Last year, the town closed the streets for an Ecuadorian festival that brought together hundreds of residents.

"Most of us know this town would have a heck of a time trying to run itself these days without the immigrants," said Patten, a Republican. "They're working at the grocery stores, the fast-food places, they're opening businesses and keeping this town alive and young. We're just being practical by telling them, 'Look, we want you in our community, and we want you to feel like you belong.' "

Patten and his wife, Kathy, have taken Spanish classes and given their personal phone numbers to immigrants. The mayor helped secure the release of one Hightstown immigrant seized by immigration authorities in 2005 in a case of mistaken identity.

At a city-sponsored health fair at Hightstown High School last month, dozens of immigrants showed up for free medical checks by a local doctor, while a local police officer roamed the halls to engage residents. "¿Como esta?" Patten repeated in American-accented Spanish as he went through the crowd, receiving pats on the back, hugs and kisses.

"I feel I can get help in this town," said Sonia, a 34-year-old from Ecuador who, like all illegal immigrants interviewed here, declined to give a last name. After getting an HIV test, she was in line to take her infant son for a doctor's visit. "These are things I could never afford. I don't have health insurance, and I'm afraid to go to the county hospital. I don't know what kind of paperwork they ask for. I feel more comfortable here. No forms. No questions. You just have to come in."

As police have promised to refrain from asking about immigrants' legal status, authorities say communication between undocumented residents and local law enforcement officials has markedly improved. Although police here concede that they must cooperate with federal agents possessing outstanding warrants for illegal immigrants, they say they will arrest immigrants or report their undocumented status only if they are caught committing a criminal offense.

Maria, 23, who arrived in Hightstown from Ecuador two years ago, was persuaded by a bilingual volunteer police liaison to call police after $3,000 was stolen from her family's apartment last November. Most of the undocumented families here, whose status makes it difficult to open bank accounts, keep the money they earn -- from jobs in a local packaging factory -- at home, living in constant fear of robbery.

"We are so vulnerable because of our status that the idea of calling the police is still a little frightening," Maria said. "But we realize now that if we don't, there's no chance of justice. And if we do, they are going to at least try to help us -- not arrest us for being victims."