Undocumented Rigo Espinoza, 26, hangs out with his              family outside his trailer park home in west Phoenix.              Espinoza is here illegally but is petitioning for his              citizenship through his wife. His father, who is also              here illegally, works in agriculture in Florence and              is so afraid of being pulled over by police that he              rarely comes to see his two grandchildren.              Everybody is afraid, but they just got to get              along with their lives, he said. less                                      Undocumented Rigo Espinoza, 26, hangs out with his              family outside his trailer park home in west Phoenix.              Espinoza is here illegally but is petitioning for his              citizenship through his wife. His father, who is              ... more            Photo: Nick Oza, STR                                          
              Tucson LPO (Lead Police Officer) Jose Flores, during              his patrol at T1 South Tucson neighborhood which is              densely populated by Latinos.            
              Tucson LPO (Lead Police Officer) Jose Flores, during              his patrol at T1 South Tucson neighborhood which is              densely populated by Latinos.            
              Oscar Aguirre of Phoenix did not join the exodus of              immigrants after Arizona began its crackdown in 2010.            
              Oscar Aguirre of Phoenix did not join the exodus of              immigrants after Arizona began its crackdown in 2010.            
              Tucson Police Officer helps one of drug addict during              his patrol at T1 South Tucson neighborhood which is              densely populated by Latinos.            
              Tucson Police Officer helps one of drug addict during              his patrol at T1 South Tucson neighborhood which is              densely populated by Latinos.            
              Tucson Police Officers tries to helps one of drug              addict during his patrol at T1 South Tucson              neighborhood which is densely populated by Latinos.            
              Tucson Police Officers tries to helps one of drug              addict during his patrol at T1 South Tucson              neighborhood which is densely populated by Latinos.            
              Arizona immigration bill still reverberates; holds              clues for what's in store for Texas            
    PHOENIX - Friends and neighbors fled this city's mostly    Hispanic southern and western enclaves in droves after the    state Legislature approved a set of sweeping anti-immigrant    laws in 2010. But Oscar Aguirre wasn't one of them.  
    This has been his home for more than 20 years, ever since he    and his wife crossed the border illegally. He has two daughters    who were born and raised here. A mechanic, he has grown a    thriving business.  
    So, like many with deep roots in this city that is 40 percent    Hispanic, the couple chose instead to make their lives smaller.    They stopped calling the police or even accessing public health    care, for which their kids qualified. Every time they get in    the car they still view it as a game of Russian roulette.  
    "If I see the police, I take another route," said Aguirre, 43,    as he checked a friend's engine in a mobile home park last    week. "The truth is, if the police stop you, it's over. To    Mexico, you go."  
    Within two years of the legislation, which was almost    immediately embroiled in years of litigation, Arizona lost $490    million in tourism revenue as trade groups across the nation    canceled scheduled conventions in protest. Agricultural and    construction companies struggled to fill jobs.  
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    The Supreme Court ultimately blocked many of the law's    provisions but greenlighted its most controversial portion,    allowing police to inquire about immigration status, which is    similar to a provision in a Texas "sanctuary cities" bill    signed a week ago by Gov. Greg Abbott.  
    The controversial Texas law permits officers, even those on    college campuses, to question anyone they stop about their    status and threatens police chiefs with jail time if they don't    cooperate. After Arizona's bill in 2010, it is considered the    harshest anti-immigrant legislation passed by any state since    2012.  
    Top metropolitan law enforcement leaders in Texas, including    Houston Police Chief Art Acevedo and Harris County Sheriff Ed    Gonzalez, have said the bill would hammer community relations    if Hispanics fear that reporting crime could lead to    immigration checks. Since President Donald Trump's executive    orders on immigration, such police calls have already    plummeted. Last week the American Civil Liberties Union issued    a travel alert for the state, warning that Senate Bill 4 would    cause racial profiling and a violation of constitutional    rights.  
    200,000 left  
    Seven years in, Arizona's experience hints at what Texas, with    the nation's largest Hispanic population after California,    might expect. Supporters of Arizona's legislation say it has    worked, helping to reduce the number of immigrants illegally in    the state by 40 percent between 2007 and 2012, according to the    Pew Research Center, a think tank in Washington, D.C. More than    200,000 left. Since then, the population has stayed about the    same.  
    "Enforcement does work and even the threat of enforcement makes    a difference," said the bill's Republican sponsor, former state    Sen. Russell Pearce, who became Arizona's first legislator to    be removed from office in a 2011 recall election shortly after    the passage of what's known as SB 1070. "As long as you got the    bird feeder out, the birds are going to come and eat. You gotta    take the bird feeder down."  
    Many of Trump's supporters see it the same way at a time when    the issue has arguably never been more rancorous. But business    leaders in Arizona warn that such a reduction came at a cost.  
    "No one stops to think that, when you eject people from an    economy, you're not going to feel it," said Todd Landfried,    executive director of Arizona Employers for Immigration Reform.    "It's a dramatic impact. People aren't buying food, clothes,    gas. They're not going to baseball games or buying soccer    uniforms, they're not going out and socializing. Business    owners have to cut back and lay people off. It's a snowball    effect."  
    Some economists have found that the exodus reduced Arizona's    gross domestic product by roughly 2 percent a year. Proponents    of the law say that loss was bolstered by savings in education,    medical care and the costs of incarceration. A 2004 study by    the Federation for American Immigration Reform, a Washington,    D.C., group seeking to reduce immigration, argued those    services cost the state more than $1 billion annually.  
    But Landfried called that a red herring, noting that all of    Arizona's residents, no matter their legal status, contribute    to property taxes paying for education, whether they own homes    or rent. Immigrants illegally in the state don't qualify for    any public benefits, although their American children do.  
    The overall impact to the state's convention and tourism    industry alone was $752 million in completed and potential    cancellations and booking declines, Landfried testified to the    U.S. Senate judiciary committee in 2012. That involved more    than 4,200 lost jobs.  
    Industry leaders said they lost money when they couldn't    complete jobs because they didn't have enough workers.  
    "Immigrant labor left the state. It was a ghost town," said    Sheridan Bailey, president of Ironco Enterprises, a steel    fabrication company in Arizona. "We had about 40 steel    fabricators when (SB) 1070 came around, and now we have about    eight."  
    Bailey helped found the employer immigration group more than a    decade ago, years before Arizona's legislation, because he    couldn't find the labor that he needed.  
    Today he said that problem is exacerbated. Though his business    is currently in a lull, he's paying overtime to complete    contracts. To prepare for several projects later this year,    he's thinking about outsourcing to Tijuana, Mexico.  
    "It's very difficult to get steel fitters and welders," Bailey    said. "There's just not enough to go around."  
    Perception problem  
    Some executives say that even the perception of the law as    anti-Hispanic casts a shadow that they are still struggling to    overcome. The city of Oakland, Calif., declined Phoenix Mayor    Greg Stanton's invitation to a Governing Magazine summit this    month, reportedly citing an ongoing travel ban due to the 2010    legislation. Stanton's office, meanwhile, has been working to    improve relations with the state's largest trading partner of    Mexico, recently opening a second office there.  
    "This was a complete disaster for our state from an image    perspective and from an economic perspective," said Lisa Urias,    the president of a large advertising agency and a member of the    boards of the Greater Phoenix Leadership Council and the    Arizona Hispanic Chamber of Commerce. "There is still lingering    damage that is there, and we are still a state that feels very    raw about this issue."  
    Proponents, led by Pearce, the bill sponsor, say that the law    reduced crime, helping Phoenix achieve the lowest crime rate in    30 years by 2012.  
    Criminologists say the state's crime was already falling, on    par with national trends, and that there is little correlation.    Nationally a strong body of research shows that immigrants tend    to be incarcerated at about half the rate of those born in the    United States.  
    Supporters of the legislation, however, argue that anyone here    illegally is committing a crime simply by being here in    violation of the law in the first place and should be    immediately removed.  
    Big city police chiefs believe that requiring state law    enforcement ask about a federal civil infraction hampers their    ability to locate witnesses for serious felonies such as    homicide and rape. A 2013 University of Chicago study found    that Hispanics, regardless of their immigration status, were    half as likely to report crimes if they suspected police would    ask about their citizenship.  
    The Phoenix Police Department declined an interview request    about the law's impact.  
    But Tucson Police Chief Chris Magnus, who took office nearly    two years ago, said his department has struggled to battle the    perception that police are doubling as immigration agents.  
    "There's no possible way that crime can go down," he said.    "What you're really talking about is a dynamic that discourages    a large segment of the population from reporting crime and    working with police to solve crimes or even serve as witnesses    to crimes."  
    Walking a fine line  
    What Arizona's legislation has done, Magnus said, is greatly    complicate the jobs of officers who are required under the law    to ask about immigration status but not permitted to racially    profile or hold someone for longer than is constitutionally    permissible - all amounting to a delicate balance in the    day-to-day task of policing.  
    When the high court's justices allowed the state to implement    the provision in 2012, they raised the prospect that it could    invite racial profiling. Law enforcement agencies here have    since struggled with training their police officers on how and    when to ask about immigration status.  
    "The nuances of this law is so confusing that it took us a very    long time," said Tucson's Assistant Police Chief Ramon Batista,    who previously oversaw the patrol division. "You have to be    very, very careful in how you apply this."  
    A recent ride-along with Tucson Police Officer Jose Flores    hinted at the complexities. Working in the city's predominately    Hispanic south side about an hour from the border, Flores was    called to check on a woman wandering in and out of a major    road. She appeared to be on drugs or suffering a mental    imbalance, didn't have any identification, and couldn't provide    her name.  
    The officers called the mental health unit. But had the woman    carried a form of identification and if it was not issued by    the U.S. government, Flores said that he would have had to    alert his supervisors, who could contact Border Patrol and see    if they were interested in detaining her for further    questioning.  
    Last year, Arizona's attorney general agreed with advocacy    groups on a narrow set of guidelines for how and when police    should ask about immigration status. Tucson police chief of    staff and former legal adviser, Michael Silva, said as a    result, the department went from requiring officers to check    status every time they issue someone with a criminal citation    to a more nuanced version that takes into account a host of    factors. The number of immigration checks went down from more    than a thousand a month to less than a dozen, he said.  
    But the law allows each police department, indeed each officer,    to interpret it as they see fit, said Carlos Garcia, executive    director of the state immigrant advocacy group Puente Arizona.  
    "The overall problem is that because of a lack of structure or    mechanism on how to implement it, you end up giving officers    the personal discretion on whether they want to pursue    deportation or not," he said. "It's basically a lottery for our    community."  
    A 'tipping point'  
    It's unclear how this will play out in Texas, where no    advisories have yet been issued on implementing the new law and    where officers aren't required to ask about immigration status    but are permitted to do so, giving them great latitude.    Acevedo, Houston's police chief, has suggested it would be    problematic.  
    "We cannot prohibit officers from doing what they want to do in    regard to immigration enforcement, which means that a small    percent of our officers who decide to become (immigration)    agents and want to stop a jaywalker and they start asking for    their papers, I as a chief can't do anything to explain to that    officer, 'Hey, we've got calls for service backed up,'" he said    at a news conference last month.  
    Immigrant advocates in Arizona say the state law was also    greatly softened by deportation priorities set under the latter    part of President Barack Obama's administration, which focused    on removing violent offenders and recent arrivals. Under Trump,    who has said anyone here illegally is a focus for deportation,    that could change dramatically.  
    The legislation has had a surprisingly bright impact, however,    said Ian Danley, executive director of One Arizona, an advocacy    coalition. It has helped them register a quarter of a million    new Latino voters since 2010, and elect 24 Latinos to the state    Legislature and three to the Phoenix City Council.  
    Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio, seen as the face of    anti-immigrant tactics for his use of aggressive workplace    raids and what some called over-the-top publicity antics, lost    his election last November and is facing a federal trial for    defying a judge's order to stop immigration patrols.  
    Alejandra Gomez, executive director of the Arizona Center for    Empowerment, an advocacy group, called the legislation a    "tipping point," suggesting the same might come for Texas.  
    Urias, of the advertising agency, said the state's business    groups have defeated dozens of anti-immigrant bills since 2010.  
    "In Arizona we have learned our lesson," she said.  
Original post:
Arizona immigration bill still reverberates; holds clues for what's in store for Texas - Houston Chronicle