The Bermudez Triangle

Dora says people have the wrong idea about her husband.

He returned to the document preparation business and opened Centro de Ayuda, which today has four locations, three in the Valley and one in Casa Grande. He insists that he didn't set out to become a leader or an organizer of the undocumented.

"I did not want to take a leadership role," he says. "It's difficult to take a leadership role when you have baggage."

But the attitude toward immigrants was changing nationwide, especially in Arizona.

Bermudez says that by the early 2000s, he was hearing more and more cases of abuse. He decided to organize a nonprofit arm of his business to help the undocumented fight for legal rights.

"Inmigrantes Sin Fronteras was born out of the need to organize the undocumented, he says. "I began my recruitment by saying you are the problem, you need to be part of the solution."

It was a good time to set up shop.

In 2004, in spite of vehement opposition from the Hispanic community, Arizona passed Proposition 200, which requires proof of citizenship to vote and receive certain social services. In 2005, the Minutemen grabbed national attention with their stakeout at the border. Soon after, Congress considered legislation to make anyone who rendered aid to a person crossing the border a felon. This legislation, the Border Protection, Anti Terrorism and Illegal Immigration Control Act of 2005, or the Sensenbrenner Bill, was a tipping point for many who had already been working with the undocumented.

To Bermudez's credit, Inmigrantes Sin Fronteras was one of the first groups to demonstrate visible political action. In May 2005, he purchased the airtime for his radio show and began broadcasting his pro-immigrant, yet conservative, message. That same month, the group held its first public action, a weeklong work stoppage.

His message has always been one of compromise. He often says he hates welfare — "I don't like freebies" is his mantra.

But he contradicts himself. After all, he's asking for rights for people who are in the country illegally. He says it's not a handout he wants, it's a solution to the problem of what he calls a very broken immigration system.

"I am different because I don't ask people to claim rights they don't deserve. I ask people to take responsibility for their actions, to become a part of the solution," he says. "Show why we are here. It's not because we want to defy the laws of the United States. We are here illegally because you don't give us an option. There is no way to knock at the door and say, 'I want to come in, will you give me permission?' There is no way to come here legally."

Abel Ledezma, a telephone repairman, was one of Bermudez's earliest followers, going back to the first labor strike. Still, he has little faith that any of the group's actions have made a difference.

"At the end, after doing everything, I thought it was more like therapy," he says.

In fact, Ledezma has recently decided to move to New Mexico because his wife is undocumented.

"I'm documented but my status doesn't allow her to get legalized," he says. "We're trying to go to a safe place and hide for a couple years. It's better than being worried every day."

It's this fear and frustration that led to the first major public action by the undocumented in 2006.

On March 24, 2006, more than 20,000 people marched to Senator Jon Kyl's office to deliver a letter protesting the pending Sensenbrenner Bill.

Bermudez thought the march was a bad idea. He didn't want his group to be a part of it.

"It was not well planned," he sniffs.

Roberto Reveles, the recently retired president of the group Somos America (We Are America), a coalition that formed after the march to Kyl's office, says the march was the beginning of the movement.

"It was the first major expression of an organized movement that could bring people to stop and listen to what was happening to the undocumented community," he says. "That was very significant. Here was a group of people who felt so intimidated and harassed that they had to respond publicly. It was really spontaneous."

After the march, Bermudez issued a public statement apologizing to the mayor and citizens of Phoenix. Though he made the statement on behalf of himself, other activists like Reveles feel it made the whole community look weak.

"I considered that [the march] was very uncalled for and I apologized to the mayor and the city of Phoenix," says Bermudez. "I, as a person, said I apologize to the mayor and the people of Phoenix if we caused any hardship. I was not representing my organization. I thought it was irresponsible that we took over a street."