THE O.J. SIMPSON MURDER TRIAL : Sympathy for a Salvadoran : Housekeeper’s Reluctant Prominence Sparks Compatriots’ Interest in Case

Over homemade pupusas, fried yucca and other Central American delicacies, customers at the San Salvador restaurant were abuzz Thursday discussing the topic of the moment: the testimony of Rosa Lopez in the O.J. Simpson case.

“One has to feel for her,” said Teresa Ochoa, her two table mates nodding in agreement. “We’re all Latinos. Who knows when she’ll have peace again.”

For many Latino immigrants, particularly Salvadorans, the sudden emergence of one of their own in the Simpson trial has spurred interest in a quintessentially American drama that had previously prompted a collective shrug. The image of this humble housekeeper involuntarily propelled into the white-hot spotlight of the celebrity murder trial has caused an entire community to take belated notice.

“People here can relate to Rosa Lopez,” said Oscar Monroy, Salvadoran manager of El Quetzal bakery, specializing in sweet quesadillas and other Central American pastries. “Frankly, I wasn’t very interested in this case until she came along. Now I’m following it every day. People are talking about it.”

A well-known institution, the Latina maid, has crossed paths with a national obsession. The telenovela meets the U.S. celebrity soap opera. Increasingly, the Simpson case seems to have something for everyone.

On Thursday, as prosecutors grilled Lopez during a rigorous cross-examination, some fellow immigrants complained that Lopez was being treated like the accused.

“It seems they want to blame it all on her,” said Javier Estrada, who was selling umbrellas outside the courthouse where Simpson is being tried.

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Among some Latino immigrants, there was a certain sense of pride that this unassuming compatriot had catapulted from the anonymous drudgery of the immigrant service economy into tabloid notoriety, however ephemeral her fame and questionable her testimony. That the high-powered “trial of the century” has focused almost exclusively on a Central American maid for one week is an irony lost on few.

“Maybe people will finally recognize that we’re not all Mexicans,” said Manuel Rodriguez, a Salvadoran social worker who stopped by the offices of El Rescate in Los Angeles’ Pico-Union district, heart of the El Salvadoran exile community.

In the service agency’s waiting room, its walls shimmering with murals depicting the brutality of the Salvadoran civil war, Lopez’s testimony flashed on the television set.

Curiously, says Celia Grail, El Rescate’s executive director, the housekeeper’s involvement has served for many as a window into the often-baffling densities of U.S. law and culture. “A lot of immigrants don’t really understand the criminal justice system,” Grail said, “but this brings it a little closer.”

But in the Proposition 187 era, some Latinos also voiced concern that the attention focused on Lopez could bolster negative images of Latin American immigrants as an inarticulate servant class. “Some people fear that the Lopez issue could increase the stereotyped picture of Latinos,” said Jaime Ruiz, a reporter with Spanish-language KVEA-TV.

Among the many high-profile attorneys in the case, Ruiz noted, there are no Latino lawyers to present a countervailing image to Lopez.

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The Spanish-language media, seizing upon most every editor’s dream--a marketable local angle--have emphasized Lopez’s involvement since she emerged as a potential alibi witness for Simpson, the football legend now charged with murdering his ex-wife, Nicole Brown Simpson, and her friend Ronald Lyle Goldman. Back in El Salvador, news reports have also chronicled Lopez’s tortuous path into the limelight.

Many Salvadorans in Los Angeles, capital of the Central American exodus, quickly personalized the struggles of Lopez.

There was empathy when Lopez, one of 10 children, testified about having to leave school after the fourth grade and work because her peasant parents could not afford to pay for books and supplies. She spoke of coming to the United States 25 years ago and leaving two children behind--only to lose them in the civil war, an experience all too familiar to many here.

The reluctant witness’s defenders also sympathized with Lopez’s apparent nervousness and confusion, regarded suspiciously by the prosecution and professional court-watchers.

“The poor woman is scared stiff,” said Maria Miranda, a housekeeper from El Salvador who was watching TV testimony at the San Salvador restaurant. “I understand why she’s afraid. She fears for her family and doesn’t want to lose her work.”

Some wondered whether Lopez acted too impulsively in telling attorneys about the supposed presence of Simpson’s Ford Bronco on that now-infamous June evening. Several compared her to a chatty aunt or grandmother--staples of the telenovela genre--whose ill-considered comments have enmeshed her in a legal web far more intricate than she ever could have imagined.

“Its her responsibility to speak up about what she saw, but she shouldn’t have come forward unless she was absolutely certain,” said Teresa Ramirez, an immigrant from Mexico, where televised soaps are a national fixation.

Yet, despite prosecution attempts to cast Lopez as a liar, fellow immigrants generally seemed inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“This poor woman,” said the baker Monroy. “She doesn’t even know what she’s mixed up in.”