Immigration crackdown: He played Jesus on Good Friday. Ten days later, he was deported.

Yahoo

14-05-2025

On Good Friday, Roman soldiers arrested Baltazar and hung him to a cross when he played Jesus in the crucifixion reenactment at St. Peter Catholic Church in Jupiter.
On the Tuesday after Easter, Immigration and Customs Enforcement arrested the 33-year-old diabetic man and 11 of his coworkers in the shade of Trump National Golf Club, at Alternate A1A and Donald Ross Road, as they rode in a truck to work.
On the Monday after that, the U.S. government deported him and his co-workers to their native Guatemala as part of Operation Tidal Wave, the immigration crackdown that saw more than 1,100 immigrants detained across Florida.
'It was humiliating,' Baltazar said by cellphone on May 3 from the Central American country. 'They treated me like I was a criminal. My only crime was going out to work for the people of this country."
The Palm Beach Post is withholding Baltazar's last name because he has other family members living without documentation in South Florida and he fears they also will be arrested and deported.
Baltazar was undocumented and had lived in the Jupiter area for 10 years without legal status to work and even to be in the U.S.
The Trump and DeSantis administrations on May 1 in Miramar declared Operation Tidal Wave a success. They said the federal-state effort, made possible by the 287(g) agreements between Florida and U.S. law-enforcement agencies, targeted "criminals," specifically violent ones.
Trump administration officials acknowledged that about one-third of those arrested — 400 people — did not have criminal backgrounds. Baltazar appears to be one of them. A search of Florida court records found no criminal offenses for him.
Being in the U.S. without authorization is a civil violation, according to federal law. Tidal Wave leaders, however, said the absence of legal status made people like Baltazar eligible for deportation.
"I stand by what we've said since Day One, since Jan. 20: If you are in this country illegally, you are a criminal," said Madison Sheahan, ICE's deputy director. "We have zero tolerance for criminal aliens in this country."
Baltazar said he told immigration officials he never had issues with the law, that he had worked in construction while in the U.S. and that he was a youth leader at St. Peter's.
'None of that matters now. You are going back to Guatemala,' Baltazar said an immigration officer told him just before he was deported.
He and the 11 other men likely won't be the last ones. Florida officials say Operation Tidal Wave will be the new normal nationwide.
Through June, the federal government will engage in "strikingly similar" operations in cities across the U.S., Larry Keefe, executive director of the State Board of Immigration Enforcement, said May 12.
Immigration crackdown: Good Friday devotion at Gardens cathedral becomes plea for fairness
Baltazar was widely known among Hispanics in Jupiter, and his arrest sent a chill through the community.
The Rev. Donald Finney, the longtime pastor at St. Peter's, said he was shocked and saddened to hear Baltazar was deported only days after he had seen him at the Good Friday service.
Finney described Baltazar as a polite man who volunteered his time and his talents to the church.
"This is the ideal person that you could ever ask for," Finney said. "He was a young man filled with faith, working to create a better life and helping others."
Hugo De Leon, who manages the Latinos en Jupiter Facebook group, said his group receives several videos weekly showing Border Patrol agents detaining people like Baltazar, who he knew before his arrest.
Even though Tidal Wave has ended, De Leon said the fear of arrests persists, with people convinced ICE is patrolling Hispanic neighborhoods and targeting vehicles carrying landscaping and construction workers.
"We've never seen something like this before,' said DeLeon in Spanish. "Our people are in panic."
The panic follows assurances from Palm Beach County Sheriff Ric Bradshaw to Hispanic groups that his department — the county's largest law-enforcement agency — would not participate in mass immigration sweeps but would pursue "targeted deportations" of undocumented people with criminal records.
Federal officials do not always inform local agencies when they are making arrests in their jurisdictions and often take immigrants to federal detention centers instead of county jails.
Baltazar said he grew up in a family of agricultural workers. At 23, he left for the United States, but his objective cut against the political narratives of the past decade.
His goal was not to create havoc or even a permanent life in America. He found work in construction and began saving his wages to buy land near his village to build his family a house and to return to it one day.
Baltazar said he crossed the U.S. southern border in 2015 and reunited with family members in Palm Beach County. Back then, he only knew about growing and picking fruits and vegetables, but his coworkers taught him to pour cement, lay flooring and remodel bathrooms and kitchens. Also from Guatemala, they became like brothers to him.
But Baltazar said he found a sense of belonging in the Hispanic ministry at St. Peter's.
At first, he attended Sunday Mass. Then he joined catechism classes, where he read the Bible and learned to pray. He became a youth leader and volunteered at events like the crucifixion reenactment.
This year, Baltazar was skeptical of playing Jesus, as he had in 2024. He felt the story of a one-time immigrant being persecuted hit too close to home, but playing Jesus was the best way to serve his church family. Baltazar said he felt God cheering for him as he recited the dialogue and prayers at the crucifix.
"Jesus called on me and was also preparing me for what would come,' Baltazar said.
More: Immigration, housing issues aired as PEACE social justice meeting brings 1,000 to Jupiter
Baltazar expected Trump's second presidency would be different than his first. His family and friends said he shouldn't worry. He didn't have problems with the law, he was hard-working and he had become part of the community.
Baltazar's anxiety grew, however. He saw videos of Border Patrol pulling over vehicles like the one he rode in to work and detaining those inside. Still, he never thought he would be next.
On April 22, the day he was arrested, he said he had an uneasy feeling as he waited for the work van.
"I didn't want to go to work that day, but the need to make money won,' Baltazar said.
The work van made its way through northern Palm Beach County and onto Hood Road in Palm Beach Gardens. Baltazar said the driver turned north onto Alternate A1A and headed toward Jupiter. Then he saw three vehicles tailing them.
'That's ICE,' he recalled his manager whispering.
Baltazar told everyone not to panic. He had attended 'know your rights' sessions and learned they could remain silent and not disclose their names or immigration statuses if they didn't let officers open the doors.
The driver, however, got nervous, Baltazar said. Minutes later, ICE agents opened the doors and removed the men from the truck near the main entrance of Trump National, one of three private golf clubs the president owns in South Florida.
Baltazar said ICE agents didn't ask for their names or legal statuses. He said they handcuffed them and had them kneel and line up at the side of the road before taking them to a detention facility in Stuart.
'Targeted deportations': Sheriff says PBSO's immigration focus is on felons, not schools, workplaces
Once in Stuart, Baltazar said he told officers he was undocumented and diabetic and that his blood-sugar levels were already low and that he needed to eat something or he might pass out.
'Here, in this country, you don't have a right,' he said the officer told him. A female police officer brought him medication and a box of Goldfish crackers.
The next day, April 23, the group went to Krome Detention Center in Miami, where they spent two days. Baltazar said they were not allowed to make phone calls.
On April 25, Baltazar said the group was driven to North Florida and flown to El Paso, Texas, where they stayed for three nights at the Mexican border.
There, Baltazar was allowed to make his only call. Baltazar told his brother he was in Texas and that he was denied a phone call to a lawyer and would likely be deported.
His brother answered they had been trying to find him all week and that his employer had tried to post bail for the workers but couldn't find where they were detained. The employer did not return calls seeking comment.
On April 28, a military plane took off with Baltazar and his 11 coworkers. He said it did so without having him sign a deportation order, which usually marks the start of the removal process and allows for court hearings.
The plane first stopped in El Salvador, home of the CECOT prison, which frightened Baltazar. It took off again and landed in Guatemala, where the government had a bus to take the men home.
"Ever since they detain us, we stayed together," Baltazar said. They gathered before getting on the bus and "we gave each other the last hug as brothers.'
Jupiter's population since 2000 has grown by nearly 50%, to about 61,000, and its Hispanic population has grown with it. About 18% of the town identifies as Hispanic, according to the 2020 census, a total that does not count undocumented people like Baltazar.
Jupiter is home to the El Sol Community Resource Center, which since 2006 has helped people like Baltazar and their families make a life for themselves in the U.S.
Jill Hanson, a Jupiter attorney, is El Sol's co-founder and past president. She said the DeSantis administration used Tidal Wave not to go after dangerous criminals but rather to deport the most vulnerable undocumented immigrants, the day laborers who make up a large part of Florida's workforce.
These are people who are ready to work when employers, from roofers to builders to landscapers, need help on particular days. Roundups of day laborers also have been reported in other U.S. cities.
"It's affecting more than just their business," said Hanson, who knew of Baltazar before his deportation. "It's affecting the people who have been here living in the shadows, but never with this fear that if you're a worker and you aren't doing anything wrong, you could be deported."
Finney came to St. Peter's in 2003, three years before El Sol was founded. He said he has seen Jupiter grow into a diverse, inclusive place with the effort of churches, hospital, educational center and nonprofits.
Now immigrant families are living in fear, Finney said. Parents tell him they are scared of going to work, dropping off their kids at and coming to church services.
"So many groups in Jupiter have been instrumental in creating kind of a safe environment for the immigrant community here in Jupiter," Finney said. "Now, the crackdown and deportations seem to have really hurt the efforts that everyone has worked on for the last 20 years."
Baltazar was happy to see his family after 10 years, but he came back to an unfinished house. The bare foundations are laid, but it doesn't have water or electricity and it's not connected to sewers.
For now, Baltazar will go back to working the fields, the only job available in his village. He said what he left behind in Jupiter will haunt him.
'I shed tears and cried because I felt like I left a family and life in Jupiter,' Baltazar said. 'I was being responsible, but I didn't do everything I wanted to do.'
Valentina Palm covers Royal Palm Beach, Wellington, Greenacres and Palm Springs for The Palm Beach Post. Email her at [e-mail]. Support local journalism: Subscribe today.
This article originally appeared on Palm Beach Post: Florida immigrant went from playing Christ on cross to being deported