Brownsville’s Bad Lie

Landowners are pursuing a separate legal battle. Though the federal government owns vast stretches of land along the border in other states, it must contend with hundreds of private landowners in Texas. It can rely on eminent domain, a legal doctrine that allows the government to seize land for public use after negotiating a fair price. But that hasn't stopped a small group of defiant landowners from trying to block the Feds from gaining access to their property or condemning it. In March, attorney Peter Schey of the L.A.-basedCenter for Human Rights and Constitutional Law filed a proposed class-action lawsuit on behalf of aggrieved landowners, including the Benavidezes. For its part, the government filed a wave of lawsuits, most of them successful, starting last winter to gain access to the holdouts' land to conduct surveys. In May, it plans to begin filing a new wave of litigation aimed at seizing the land of owners (for a fee) who have balked at selling.

The battle over the wall began in 2006, when Congress authorized the construction of 700 miles of barrier along the border. DHS has pledged to build 370 miles of pedestrian fence by the end of the year, including more than 60 miles in the Lower Rio Grande Valley, which is home to Brownsville. Reaching as high as 18 feet and laid out in unconnected segments of one to 13 miles, the fence will mostly follow the path of the levees, which are sometimes a mile or more inland. That will place the fence disconcertingly close to some landowners, like Orlando Lambert—a neighbor of the Benavidezes—whose front door is only about 20 feet from the levees. Greg Giddens, executive director of the Secure Border Initiative at Customs and Border Protection, says existing fencing in the San Diego and Yuma, Ariz., areas, combined with beefed-up personnel and surveillance technology, has helped stem illegal immigration. Nevertheless, he says, "we recognize that there is no impermeable barrier that can be built that ingenious people can't figure out a way to get over."

Though Brownsville has become the biggest flashpoint in the fence debate, its Border Patrol sector (which includes McAllen up the river) is hardly the most-trafficked area for illegal immigrants. It ranks a distant third in border apprehensions, with about 35,000 from October 2007 to March 2008 (the most recent figures available). Still, at a time when overall border apprehensions are dropping, they've slightly increased in the Brownsville area. That's why some have been vocal in their support. "I think it'll be a good idea," says Joe Metz, a farmer who raises sugar cane, cattle and citrus trees on 1,100 riverfront acres west of McAllen. Many nights, undocumented immigrants stream across his property, hiding out amid the sugar cane. Even worse, Metz says he often sees drug smugglers ferrying bales of dope across the river in rubber rafts and loading them onto vehicles that venture onto his fields. "They'll stare at you and dare you to pick up your cell phone and call for help," he says. A border wall would help fend them off, in his view. "I'd like to see them toss 50-pound bales over an 18-foot wall."

But, opponents say, other legitimate business interests could be harmed by the fence. Farmers worry about losing access to irrigation water. Local business owners fret that Mexican nationals, many of whom cross over legally to go shopping, may decide to stay home. And consider the predicament of Bob Lucio, who poured his life savings into a deal to run the Fort Brown Memorial Golf Course at the University of Texas at Brownsville. The fence would leave all 18 holes on the Mexican side of the barrier. Already, some wary golfers are declining to renew their annual memberships. Lucio says he hasn't gotten a straight answer from the federal government about how golfers will access the course. "It's shameful the way they're handling this," he says. Giddens replies that DHS will seek to resolve situations like Lucio's "on a case-by-case basis," and that options might include an electronic gate that could be opened remotely.

As evidence that they're collaborating with locals, the Feds point to a deal they struck in February with nearby Hidalgo County, home to McAllen. Though political leaders there also opposed the fence, they concluded that they were powerless to stop it. So J. D. Salinas, the county judge (an executive position in Texas), says he sought "to kill two birds with one stone"—combine the wall with the levee system, which has dangerously deteriorated and which the Feds agreed to help pay to restore. The compromise spares many private landowners from the intrusion of a wall; environmental groups, however, insist that the ecological effects remain severe, since a sheer cement wall offers animals fewer portals. Now, Cameron County, home to Brownsville, is considering a similar agreement.

Many Brownsville residents don't want to compromise, however. Elizabeth Garcia, a longtime activist, is the quintessential border resident. Born across the Rio Grande in Brownsville's sister city, Matamoros, she has family on both sides and crosses almost daily. "We have coexisted for so many years together," she says. "La frontera [the border] is both sides of the river, not one side or the other." Since the fence was announced, she's helped galvanize opposition to it and has cobbled together a coalition of civic and faith groups. Now, she and some peers are considering civil disobedience. "We're willing to put ourselves at risk," she says. If DHS begins construction of the fence as scheduled in June, there's little doubt that passions will remain as inflamed as ever.

© 2008