Exercise in Futility? : Immigration: Border Patrol raids on migrant encampments have resumed, but many laborers are now legal residents under the amnesty program and those that are deported soon return. Still, nearby residents want makeshift camps eliminated.

Shortly after 4 p.m, the telltale green-and-white vehicles began converging on the encampment, kicking up dust over McGonigle Canyon and prompting residents to scoot up the hillsides, dart into shacks or, alternately, sit back and watch the unfolding spectacle. The unexpected arrival cut short a practice soccer match and provoked cries of “Migra!” “Migra!” from the brush.

But most residents, such as Jorge Rolando Ocampo, simply searched their wallets for the all-important U.S. immigration card and assumed the role of interested spectators as the green-uniformed agents chased others through the brush, yelling “Halt!” in Spanish.

“It doesn’t bother me,” said Ocampo, 22, a Mexican citizen who is a legal U.S. resident thanks to the 1986 amnesty program for agricultural laborers. He observed the action from his hillside dwelling, which has a fine view below to the camp’s soccer field, a meandering creek, the stands of eucalyptus and rows of handcrafted dwellings. “One feels sorry for one’s friends who don’t have documents, but they’ll be back tomorrow.”

In the migrant camps of northern San Diego County, the word has gone out: La Migra is back.

In July, the U.S. Border Patrol resumed its controversial raids on the scores of area squatter settlements that house thousands of migrant laborers and their families.

U.S. authorities say the sweeps, occasionally conducted in concert with deputy sheriffs and police officers from neighboring cities, are an important component of overall enforcement efforts.

“My job is to arrest illegal aliens, and that’s why I’m here,” said James B. Wagoner, the supervisory Border Patrol agent who led the raid last week at the McGonigle Canyon site in the Rancho Penasquitos area, home to one of the county’s largest migrant settlements. “I like a lot of these people, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to arrest them,” Wagoner said as he surveyed the operation from a high point alongside the stream that bisects the encampment.

Immigrant rights groups say the raids accomplish little other than to disrupt camp life, particularly since most squatters now appear to be legal residents under the amnesty program. Together, the raid at the Rancho Penasquitos camp and another at a nearby camp netted only 34 arrests of illegal immigrants--fewer than one arrest for each of the 36 agents involved in the operation, which also involved 18 Border Patrol vehicles from the agency’s office in El Cajon.

“For pragmatic reasons, it just doesn’t seem like the best use of Border Patrol resources,” said Claudia Smith, regional counsel with California Rural Legal Aid, an advocacy group for migrant laborers. “It takes ‘em two days flat, and the people apprehended are back from the raids. They’re not accomplishing a lot.”

The raids, once a regular part of the enforcement pattern in the area, had been more or less on hold for several years as the Border Patrol concentrated on other priorities. In recent times, agents normally based in North County have routinely been assigned to “line” duty at the actual border strip.

In the meantime, other factors intervened to reduce the frequency of the operations. The amnesty program, particularly its provisions assisting agricultural laborers, has helped Ocampo and many other camp dwellers obtain legal U.S. residence status, leaving border agents with no reason to arrest them. Earlier this year, agents deliberately stayed out of the camps for months in an effort to assist federal census takers, who were attempting, with mixed success, to include homeless people and squatters in their counts.

However, authorities say the hiring of new agents--Border Patrol active staffing is up by 65 officers this year in the San Diego area--has allowed supervisors to assign more personnel to the border zone, meaning there is less need to borrow agents normally posted to northern San Diego County. Gustavo de la Vina, the chief Border Patrol agent in San Diego, has decided to put additional emphasis on squatter encampments, whose existence can be among the most divisive and volatile issues in local communities.

“We realize there has been a buildup of illegal aliens in the camps, and we don’t want them to think there is any safe haven,” said De la Vina, who is in his first year on the job. “We’re putting the pressure on. . . . We get a lot of complaints from residents up there.”

Indeed, the presence of the encampments, often situated near high-priced housing developments, has long angered property owners and lawmakers, who say local authorities are virtually helpless to do anything about the squatters. Though authorities have taken action that resulted in the razing and bulldozing of many camps, the migrant laborers, unable to afford area rents, typically have relocated to other crude sites in the brush. (Migrant advocates say communities have ignored more conciliatory alternatives, such as seeking funds to build low-cost housing or providing portable bathrooms.)

“The Border Patrol should have been making these raids all along,” said Marjorie Gaines, an Encinitas City Council member who has been a vocal critic of the camps.

Since the raids resumed in July, the Border Patrol has frequently teamed up with local police and sheriff’s deputies--a policy that has also sparked debate.

In July, the Border Patrol and sheriff’s deputies conducted joint sweeps of camps in the Encinitas area, arresting several dozen illegal migrants, most of whom were sent back to Mexico. Subsequently, said Emmanuel Steenbakker, who heads the Border Patrol’s North County operations, agents have conducted raids in concert with police and sheriff’s deputies in the Oceanside, Carlsbad, Vista, San Marcos and Valley Center areas.

From a law-enforcement viewpoint, authorities say, the joint operations are practical and effective: Police can cite or interrogate suspects about state or local violations such as trespassing, while Border Patrol agents can inquire about residence status.

However, advocates for the immigrants contend that such joint operations have an insidious side effect: Illegal immigrants, frightened of being deported, may hesitate to approach police in the future to report crimes.

“Why should they trust the police or sheriff’s deputies after they see them working with the Border Patrol?” asked Smith of California Rural Legal Aid.

Both sides agree on one thing: The raids seldom keep detained camp dwellers away for more than a few days. Most illegal aliens arrested in the San Diego area are Mexican citizens who simply sign a form and are then sent by bus back to Tijuana. Many quickly reenter the United States via the border canyons, soon rejoining their companions.

But, Border Patrol officials say, the raids also allow officials to survey camp populations, keeping track of the proportion of legal and illegal residents. And the raids serve to mollify citizen complaints, officials acknowledge.

“There’s a lot of frustration out in the county about this issue,” said Steenbakker. “People don’t know where to turn.”

The well-known camp targeted last week is in the McGonigle Canyon area of Rancho Penasquitos, near Black Mountain Road, within the San Diego city limits. Situated near a number of farm nurseries, it is one of the area’s largest migrant enclaves, housing more than 300 people during the peak seasons of spring and summer. In the fall and winter, many camp residents return to Mexico and Central America, leaving the population closer to 100.

Late last year, a fast-moving fire destroyed much of the camp. But residents have rebuilt and expanded the homestead with the assistance of several area church groups. Neither the owner nor the city has attempted lately to evict the squatters, recognizing that they probably would merely move to another isolated canyon area.

The camp, like others in the county, is a singular kind of microsociety. Settlement areas within the site are rather strictly delineated based on national and geographic origin. Thus, residents of Mexico’s Guerrero state reside in two specific areas, depending on their home regions in Guerrero. Natives of the states of Oaxaca and Mexico have their own zones within the camp, as do the settlers from Guatemala. Relatives and former neighbors live side by side, re-creating the security of their homeland on foreign soil.

Shortly before last week’s raid, life at the camp proceeded at a typically languid, midday pace. Men cooked over fires and repaired their dwellings, chatted with each other in makeshift front yards and watched a practice soccer game in an adjoining patch of dirt.

“Those of us from Guerrero are playing a game with the Guatemalans later,” explained Apolinar Brito, a 22-year-old who was busy fashioning a wooden goal post, hammering a nail into the makeshift crossbar with a flat stone.

Without warning, Border Patrol vehicles soon began to converge from all sides, kicking up dust and sending some residents scattering. Within minutes, agents had alighted from their vehicles and, in effect, sealed the camp. They began checking residents’ documents and rounding up those who were in the country illegally. Agents went through the camps, checking beneath the brush and inside the many residences crafted of scrap wood, plastic and other materials.

Brito, lacking papers, left the soccer game and headed for the hills. But players with legal U.S. residence papers continued honing their skills.

“It’s their (the Border Patrol’s) work; we know they have to do it,” said Emilio de la Cruz, a 35-year-old from the central state of Mexico, shortly after the operation had ended. He, like others, expressed little enmity toward the agents.

Before entering the Border Patrol vans, those apprehended flipped keys and other valuables to companions, legal U.S. residents, who remained behind. One man, an amnesty recipient, gave dollars to those who had been arrested, enough to allow them to buy food and shelter during their short time away. Some detainees shouted the names of Tijuana hotels where they would likely spend the night, hoping for company. Other messages were exchanged.

“They’ll be back tomorrow,” said Emilio de la Cruz, now attempting to make alternate dinner plans.