FAMILY UNITED IN FIGHT FOR FUTURE
Lawsuit will cite religion in bid to stop father’s deportation
Over the weekend, the weight of the last few months came crashing down on Karen Rodriguez.
She closed the door to her bedroom and burst into tears.
“I am broken. I am broken,” Karen cried as she sat on the floor, with her head to the ground.
She didn’t feel like “the leader of the house” anymore, as her father typically called his eldest daughter.
His deportation was fast approaching, and she was feeling more helpless each day.
But Monday morning, she arrived at the Houston office of a prestigious national law firm ready for a fight.
She was eager to sign her name to a federal lawsuit against the U.S. government, one that would challenge the effort to deport Juan Rodriguez on religious grounds.
She stood in front of a notary with about 10 lawyers and paralegals looking on, as she and her mother became the plaintiffs, “individually and on behalf” of her two minor sisters.
Days earlier, Celia Rodriguez had worried about her three daughters becoming too exposed by the publicity surrounding her husband’s case.
She thought people might be unkind to them, yell ugly things, make a bad situation worse.
But Karen felt empowered now, as she hadn’t before.
She later took her turn before the microphones at a news conference, acting and sounding nothing like an 18-year-old.
The lawyers were still working on the details for the lawsuit last Friday afternoon.
Former Texas Supreme Court Justice David Medina, Juan Vasquez and David Calvillo, part-
ners at the Chamberlain Hrdlicka law firm, had volunteered to help the Rodriguez family with the support of the Hispanic Bar Association.
Vasquez, who is also an accountant, sat at the head of a long, granite table in a conference room in a black suit and red striped tie. Calvillo sat to his left, without his jacket and wearing suspenders. The men spoke softly to each other before sharing details of their strategy.
Like their new clients, they are Christians and family men. Vasquez has four children; Calvillo has eight.
They were struck, Vasquez said, by the Rodriguezes’ faith, by Juan’s role as the spiritual leader and by the Bibles scattered around their house open to select pages.
It became clear, he said, that the Rodriguezes epitomized those whom the Religious Freedom Restoration Act was designed to protect.
The law, passed by a Republican Congress in 1993, says the “government shall not substantially burden a person’s exercise of religion even if the burden results from a rule of general applicability.”
It was most notably applied in Burwell vs. Hobby Lobby, where the chain successfully claimed before the U.S. Supreme Court that it could not be forced by the Affordable Care Act to provide birth control to its employees because it would violate the employer’s religious beliefs. That decision was handed down in 2014.
Vasquez and the other lawyers expect to face strong counterarguments, from the U.S. Attorney
General’s office, from Homeland Security and from Immigration and Customs Enforcement.
But Calvillo said it’s clear that the religious law should apply, and Medina feels they have “a very strong case.”
The Rodriguezes are Adventist Christians, and “their religion says, we have to stay together, because we are a reflection of the holy family,” Calvillo said.
If Juan were deported, the family could not live their faith, he said.
His wife and children — all American citizens — would be forced to follow him to El Salvador,
creating “a religious, de facto deportation,” Calvillo said.
The lawsuit also will claim that the family is being denied due process as defined under the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution.
The Rodriguezes should not be forced into “a war zone” in El Salvador through “an arbitrary and capricious change in the exercise of judgment at the federal level,” Calvillo said.
Juan Rodriguez had been checking in with immigration officials for years and was allowed to stay in the country under prosecutorial discretion. But in February, he was informed that the rules had changed under President Donald Trump and that he would be deported on June 29. Vasquez said the recent lack of consistency in ICE rules, even from city to city, should be investigated.
In a separate legal action, Juan’s attorney, Raed Gonzalez, has begun the process to reopen a petition for asylum.
At the news conference Monday in front of the federal courthouse, the family’s lawyers discussed their hope that Juan will be allowed to stay in the country as the lawsuit makes its way through the judicial system. They had electronically filed the motions at the office.
Calvillo wore a tie covered in crosses, a gift from his mother when he became a lawyer.
Medina found it “very interesting” that Tuesday marks the 50th anniversary of the date when Muhammad Ali was convicted in Houston — at the same courthouse — for refusing to be drafted into the military during the Vietnam War.
Ali cited “his sincere religious beliefs,” Medina said, and he won his appeal before the U.S. Supreme Court.
“We are making a similar argument,” Medina said.
The Rodriguezes were surrounded not only by lawyers, but by supporters from FIEL Houston, an immigrants’ organization, and clergymen, including Joseph Fiorenza, the archbishop emeritus of Galveston-Houston.
Their pastor, Lázaro Sánchez, spoke about the family’s moral and religious qualities.
When it was time for Karen to take the podium, Vasquez offered her simple advice: “Speak from your heart.”
She was encouraged and strengthened, she said, by all the help the family had received.
And she asked for more support — for people to stand with her family in front of ICE headquarters in Houston at 9 a.m. June 29.
Later, her father couldn’t get over how well his daughter had handled everything. She seemed so mature; so intelligent, he said.
The day before, on Father’s Day, she said he was her hero.
But on Monday, he said, she was his.