Boy wages fight for mother - Critics charge immigrant's son being exploited

Boy wages fight for mother - Critics charge immigrant's son being exploited
By Oscar Avila, Tribune staff reporter. The Associated Press contributed to this report
Copyright © 2006, Chicago Tribune
Published November 15, 2006



Saul Arellano sounded like any sleepy 7-year-old clinging to a comfortable, warm bed as the first rays of sun poked through: "I want to sleep. I'm tired," he called to his mother, dragging out the last word.

Even as Saul blinked to wakefulness, family friends were bundling him up Sunday to head to the airport for a flight to Mexico City, where Saul would be the small frontman in yet another attempt to help his mother, activist Elvira Arellano, avoid deportation for entering the country illegally.

On Tuesday, those adults took Saul to meet with Mexican lawmakers. Swayed by his plea, they passed a resolution urging the U.S. government to suspend deportation for Arellano and other parents of children who are U.S. citizens. The resolution carries no legal weight, but supporters hope it will build sympathy.

For Saul, the trip has at times been too much. Flashbulbs exploded as he entered the Mexican congressional chambers. Saul scurried into another room and hid under a table.

Since Aug. 15, when she took refuge in a Humboldt Park church, Arellano has enlisted every possible ally--ministers, politicians, radio hosts.

Now she is increasingly turning to a wide-eyed boy whom she sent to Mexico with two suits, a freshly printed passport and his wrestler action figures.

In recent weeks, Saul has fronted a "children's rally" at the White House, in which he unsuccessfully tried to hand-deliver a letter to President Bush. He and an adult traveling with him were interviewed on "The Cristina Show," a popular Spanish TV talk show taped in California.

Because his mother is unwilling to leave the church, fearing arrest, Saul carries their story as he travels with one or more of the activists who have become family friends.

Arellano has gotten used to those who accuse her of arrogance for breaking the law and then asking the U.S. government for a break.

But her voice rises when she talks about criticism that she is exploiting her son. "It's wrong for another person to try to be in my shoes," Arellano said. "These are people on the periphery who don't understand the truth about our lives."

Though Arellano's case has attracted global attention and Saul's situation is like few others, experts say the children of immigrants are often forced to grow up too fast.

For the estimated 3.1 million U.S. citizen children of undocumented immigrants, "the talk"--that first difficult discussion about the ways of the world--is often about how federal agents might someday come for Mom or Dad.

Those children often translate on shopping trips and in doctor's offices. They read letters about themselves sent to their parents from school.

In that sense, they are like Saul, who used his perfect English recently to guide his mother through a TV interview.

His appearance as a media regular comes at a critical time for his mother.

Arellano said she is hopeful that a leadership change in Congress might help her obtain a "private bill," legislation that would give her a legal extension to remain in the United States. The Republican-led House Judiciary Committee had refused to advance bills introduced on her behalf by Democrats.

But Arellano recognizes some risk in Saul's travels, for her child and herself.

She said one of her biggest fears is that immigration agents will take advantage of Saul's absences to arrest her. She speculated that they are more reluctant to enter the church if he is there because they fear a public-relations backlash.

But Arellano said Saul's trips are worth the risk because he can make her case in a personal way. "What I lived, he lived," Arellano said.

Carola Suarez-Orozco, who heads the applied psychology department at New York University and researches the adaptation of immigrant youths, said Saul's activity at his young age "borders on the worrisome."

These experiences could make Saul a stronger adult, she said, but they might also upset the parent-child dynamic.

"He may one day become this wonderful attorney or fabulous advocate, but this is young to be assuming that kind of role," Suarez-Orozco said. "It is born of desperation, no doubt. The normal balance is that your parents protect you, not the other way around."

Some have been more pointed in their criticism of Saul's role.

A writer for the Coalition Against Illegal Immigration blog wrote: "To shove him in front of cameras to make a case for his mother's crimes is, in my opinion, now at the top of the list of crimes this woman has committed."

Arellano stressed that Saul has maintained his grades, and that he has missed only three days of school for his lobbying. A tutor traveled with Saul to Mexico to ensure that he kept up with his schoolwork.

As a single mother, Arellano has an unusually close bond with her son. They often converse in intense, hushed tones. But they also trade jokes and verbal jabs like playmates.

Arellano said Saul welcomes her bearhugs, but not around cameras, because people will think he's her boyfriend.

While family friends said their love is genuine, Saul's public appearances walk a fine line between sentiment and stagecraft. Saul conceded he didn't know whom he would meet with in Mexico. When he went to D.C., he carried a letter bearing his name that was unusually eloquent for a 7-year-old.

After Saul gave his mother a farewell embrace in the church before leaving for Mexico, activist Emma Lozano realized that the television cameras on the sidewalk had missed the scene. Lozano matter-of-factly called out to Arellano: "Elvira, please come to the door to hug Saulito again, for the newspapers."

Supporters say children like Saul naturally have come to the forefront because these legal battles are ultimately about them. "These actions by Saulito keep the faces out there of the ultimate victims, who are the children," said Chicago immigration attorney Rosalba Pina, a friend of the Arellanos.

Arellano said she spoke briefly with Saul by phone Tuesday afternoon. He told her that everything went well, but that he couldn't talk because Mexican congressmen wanted to meet him. Saul's biggest concern was that their puppy, Daisy, was OK.

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oavila@tribune.com