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El Paso, Texas — The end of Title 42 has come to an end without an immediate immigration influx, contrary to expectations by local and federal officials. More than a day after the lifting of pandemic-era laws, it was still unclear what, if only temporarily, awaited many migrants and the border towns where they live.
Border Patrol agents arrested a total of more than 6,200 illegal immigrants across the border on Friday, the first day Title 42 was lifted, two Homeland Security officials told NBC News on Saturday. That figure was fewer than the 11,000 arrested on Tuesday and Wednesday and the 10,000 arrested on Thursday.
The mayor of El Paso said Friday that “we didn’t see any big numbers” compared to last week.
Several immigrants still in El Paso said the reason for the decline in crossings may be due to rumors that spread quickly online and a whispering network in Juarez, Mexico, saying when they should cross the title. Said it was before the end of 42. They said they were worried that their best chance to come to the United States would soon expire.
“There was a lot of talk that it would be very difficult to enter the US after Title 42,” said Rosa, 30, who was traveling from Venezuela.
Rosa, her husband and their three young children had recently arrived at a rescue mission shelter that was home to about 220 migrants as of Thursday night. The family had turned themselves in at the immigration office about a week ago to seek asylum.
As she spoke, Rosa’s sons, aged 6 and 9, played around a circular table where dozens of immigrants had gathered to eat dinner together. The brothers rushed to find the piano, and experimental music and laughter filled the air. In a nearby room, a two-year-old daughter was asleep under the watchful eye of her father.
Rosa asked not to give her full name out of fear of immigration retaliation, but she and other immigrants were subject to punishment under Title 8, which was enforced before Title 42 of the U.S. law and is now being re-enforced. said he was very afraid of the possibility of in its non-existence.
Under Title 8, those who repeatedly attempt to enter the United States illegally may face penalties, including a five-year immigration ban and criminal prosecution. Article 42 suspended these penalties, leading to an increase in people repeatedly crossing the border after being deported.
“By the time ‘Title 42’ is over, it’s going to be over, so I was terrified of not being able to show up,” she said.
Juan José Rivera, 25, a Colombian immigrant who lives in an area outside the Sacred Heart Church, said the fear of deportation and punishment “has motivated many to turn themselves in.”
“Unfortunately many of us were still turned down. But thank God we were legally allowed to come,” said a bright turquoise string. Rivera said she was wearing sneakers and carrying a clear plastic bag containing immigration documents.
Around the church the morning after Title 42 ended, immigrants turned themselves in to authorities earlier in the week, ate donuts handed out by their fellow immigrants, and lined up along the walls to use the portable toilets. We talked about fate.
“In Juárez, there were a lot of tweets saying that after May 11 we would be deported,” said Elanie Mavarez, a 20-year-old Venezuelan who was staying at an opportunity shelter for the homeless. Told. “A lot of people were scared because it cost a lot of money to get here.”
As many as 3,300 migrants have been outside the center and local churches in recent days. The numbers have all but disappeared as hundreds turned up for processing this week ahead of the end of Title 42, following calls from authorities who handed out leaflets in areas where migrants were camping.
El Paso County’s Center for Immigrant Assistance Services processed about 528 immigrants on Friday, 28 of whom are in need of shelter in the city, county spokeswoman Laura Gallegos told NBC News on Saturday. . On Thursday, 715 migrants were processed there, 115 of them sent to shelters, she added. The center has expanded operations since Friday and can now handle 800 people a day, up from 650, said Irene Valenzuela, executive director of the El Paso County Department of Community Services.
Still, some NGOs in the city said their facilities were at or near capacity on Friday. There were probably about 750 to 900 people in the city’s wider shelter system, including schools, hotel rooms and NGO-run facilities, overnight. This number also includes migrants and locals in need of shelter.
“Should I turn myself in or not?”
Fleeing political instability and extreme poverty in Venezuela, Mavarez had to scavenge for food and rely on leftover oatmeal from her four-year-old daughter.
“It’s a terrible situation,” said Mavarez, who wore a large white T-shirt emblazoned with the silhouette of Texas and the words “Hi everyone.” Around her, she would go through boxes of clothing donated by other immigrants to see if it would fit.
Mavarez said his daughter was waiting in Colombia with her grandmother because it was too dangerous to go through the jungle to the United States. She said that on the way she almost drowned in the river and she nearly died three times.
“I wondered if I should turn myself in or not,” she said of her decision to face the end of Title 42. “But I was forced to do it because I was scared.”
Multiple migrants also said others had crossed the border and remained in Mexico trying to secure reservations through CBP One. CBP One is an online application that federal officials are urging immigrants to use for official reservations at ports of entry.
Many people said they had trouble getting the application to work, and immigration officials have since expanded the functionality of the app.
Tony David Mujica Misetto, 26, a Venezuelan rescue mission participant, said he and his family were able to apply for an appointment through CBP One about six weeks ago after a difficult process. He was at the shelter with his wife Rozzi Lopez Martinez, 24, and his son Emmanuel, 3.
“We did it with faith. Mujica Misset, who wore it, said. His wife hugged her smiling son, who was holding onto a small green toy truck.
Mujica Misset said he was “craved” for the app to work because as a father of a young child he didn’t want to cross illegally after being threatened by robberies and cartels.
He said large groups of migrants have gathered in the Juárez square and have repeatedly attempted to use the app.
“The people who worked the hardest always got the bookings,” he said.
While Mujica Misetto and her family await their appointments, some surrendered migrants are desperately searching for their loved ones after being separated during the process.
Two Venezuelan brothers outside the Sacred Heart faced the same affliction while waiting to hear from their wives.
Geliensen Renial Castro Marin, 22, said: “I heard yesterday that a significant percentage of people are being deported, so I’m very worried. I haven’t spoken to her, and I haven’t heard anything about her. I haven’t,” he said.
Castro Marin said she was still hopeful after being told that her fellow Venezuelan had been released earlier that morning and had only been contacted by her husband.
His younger brother, Davier Pulido Peñaranda, 28, was separated from his wife and three-year-old twin daughters.
“I’m very worried,” he said, adding that his sister-in-law was sent back to Juarez overnight. “We did the right thing and turned ourselves in.”
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