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"Even the gentleman who was supposed to decorate the stage didn't show up because he was afraid he was going to be pulled over and taken," Ramirez said.
Church deacon Santino Bernasconi said some children had to be smuggled into the ceremony.
"People from the community who are citizens went and got them," Bernasconi said. "The children came in the car as if they were the kids of the driver."
Bernasconi also recalled the MCSO helicopter overhead. It hovered over the plaza, breaking off about 30 minutes before the ceremony began at 7 p.m. With TV journalists at the edge of the plaza filming and sheriff's deputies patrolling nearby, Ramirez said, people felt threatened.
"You could feel the tension," said Ramirez. "Instead of being a very spiritual ceremony, everybody was just looking over their shoulders wondering if the [deputies] were going to show up [at the church]. They did cruise around as the ceremony was going on. You could see them just going around the plaza. I did notice that parents, instead of concentrating on the service, kept looking around as the cars went by.
"I felt disappointed for the [children who] didn't come," said Ramirez of those not confirmed. "They were all looking forward to it. It was sad, kind of heartbreaking. And those were good kids, too. They were all into it and looking forward to doing their confirmation. They were excited and happy. They were getting ready to do one of the biggest sacraments in life, and they couldn't do it."
Both Ramirez and Bernasconi said the children would be able to receive confirmation at another church. Nearly a month later, Bernasconi remained indignant about the MCSO's actions.
"It was a reign of terror!" he said of the sheriff's two-day sweep. "Our people, going through this, have a better idea of what the Jews went through in Nazi Germany."
Ramirez, too, remained incensed by the MCSO's intrusion.
"I felt like it was basically a publicity stunt for Arpaio," Ramirez said. "He really didn't have to do that. Especially here in this little town. To come into a town like this where it's normally quiet and everybody knows everybody . . . This is an Andy Griffith, Mayberry sort of town."
Like almost everyone in Guadalupe, Ramirez has a relative who was stopped by the MCSO during the dragnet — her daughter. Ramirez's daughter was pulled over by a deputy who told her that her license-plate light wasn't bright enough. He ended up giving the grown woman, an American citizen, a stern warning.
"Now, how ridiculous was that?" asked Ramirez. "My daughter kept saying, 'This is so unreal!'"
Bishop Olmsted's take on the sheriff's raid was rather meek.
"He feels the whole situation is sad," said diocese spokesman Jim Dwyer. "He's very consistent in terms of the dignity of life, and that's all life. He believes in the dignity of all human beings. And he's always made a point of that whenever asked about the situation with respect to immigration."
Deacon Bernasconi was more passionate. He insisted that he didn't buy the MCSO's line that the aggressive two-day dragnet was about immigration enforcement.
"If that were so important, why hasn't Arpaio been doing that for two years now?" he wondered. "Why all of a sudden, and in such a noisy way, with elections in November?"
Even before Arpaio's April 3 debacle, there was a move by Santino and Socorro Bernasconi, among others, to replace the MCSO as Guadalupe's law enforcement agency.
Santino Bernasconi said the effort began as far back as October 2007 and was driven by the community's increasing dissatisfaction with the job the MCSO was doing in Guadalupe. Options were studied, including Guadalupe's developing its own police force, contracting with another law enforcement agency, or negotiating better service from the MCSO. The work of what's now referred to as the Guadalupe Public Safety Committee proceeded slowly until April 3.
Mayor Jimenez's public confrontation with the sheriff on that night became a watershed moment for the town. And like a man who only knows how to double-down on a bet, Arpaio followed up on his April 3 threat to put the town on notice. The sheriff informed Jimenez in an April 18 letter that he was giving Guadalupe 180 days' written notice to "study and research the law enforcement needs of the community and explore other law enforcement alternatives."
But the Board of Supervisors must approve any such rescinding of the MCSO's contract with the town, and, so far, no item to do so has been placed on the supervisors' agenda, said board spokeswoman Deanne Poulos.
"I'll never give up hope that fences can be mended [between the MCSO and Guadalupe]," said Lieutenant Shepherd. "I think the door's always going to be open to them."
As touching as this sentiment might seem, it's unlikely that these proverbial fences will be repaired, because town officials are unwilling to crawl back into Arpaio's good graces. Such a concession would entail having to do exactly what Arpaio orders and refraining from criticizing him ever again, something town officials seem loath to guarantee.
Also, considering Arpaio's penchant for personalizing issues, the town would no doubt have to remove its rebellious mayor to placate the sheriff.