A Consul Like No Other

The woman was having a routine conversation with Mexican Consul Luis Miguel Ortiz Haro about her need for an identification card when she broke down in tears.

Ignoring the commotion of his Santa Ana office -- the phones, the bustling aides, the dozens of people waiting to see him -- Ortiz Haro listened intently as she explained that she was anguished over an entirely different issue: She had paid $180 for a list of low-rent apartments, only to discover they didn’t exist.

This past week, Ortiz Haro found seven other victims of the scam and is getting the group an attorney. He is also trying to get authorities to look for an American baby believed kidnapped in Mexico, arrange for the release of a 12-year-old Mexican boy from Orange County juvenile hall and collect money for a 24-year-old woman whose 5-year-old son was killed by a car in La Habra.

It was, for the gregarious and affable Ortiz Haro, all in a week’s work as his government’s chief diplomat in Orange County -- a consul like no other.

His job is to deal with such parochial issues as issuing passports and attending official functions. But Ortiz Haro, say those who watch him at work, is more the passionate godfather than starchy bureaucrat -- a man more likely to lace his conversations with slang than legalese to break the ice with his mostly working-class visitors.

Sure, there are ordinary government issues to address, but every-day emergencies are receiving more urgent attention, even if they stray from his job description, Ortiz Haro says.

“I feel like I have to do these things. People don’t know how things work here. Too often, they are victims of scams,” he said.

His doggedness and commitment have made his office on Broadway a magnet for immigrants, many undocumented, who fear American authorities, distrust local police, don’t understand where to turn or feel embarrassed to seek help because they speak limited English. In a city where three-quarters of residents are Spanish-speaking, it’s a busy place.

Some visitors have come from Los Angeles because they say the larger city’s busy consulate has not been able to help them.

His colleagues in the Mexican foreign service have noticed. Ortiz Haro “has made us question our role,” said Fernando Gamboa, the Mexican consul in Oxnard. “He’s a breath of fresh air. There are manuals that tell us how to deal with the public.... They don’t speak to the way things really are. Ortiz Haro has made us think we need to change the manuals. He’s handling things in a very personal, direct way. It’s the way things should be. Too many consuls are very cold.”

Not long after she arrived in Orange County to try to overturn or reduce her son’s sentence to prison on a concealed weapons charge, Eloisa Arreguin turned to Ortiz Haro for help.

And she found the consul was everything others had said -- informal, charming and quickly willing to call people in high places to get things done.

Ortiz Haro arranged for her to receive legal advice, spent hours reviewing her son’s court case and, because the seamstress needed money, enlisted others to join him in purchasing tablecloths and clothes she had sewn.

The outpouring of help left Arreguin stunned.

“I didn’t think there was anything anyone could do for someone like me,” she told Ortiz Haro. “I overstayed my visa and I’m illegal.”

“Illegal, ni madres,” exclaimed the consul, using colloquial Spanish to say that no matter what the woman’s legal status, she deserved respect.

The 43-year-old Mexican politician, who had held an elected position in the Mexico City government, was appointed consul in September 2002, succeeding Miguel Angel Isidro, who had the post for four years.

Hearing of the assorted problems and challenges facing Mexican nationals in Orange County, Ortiz Haro a year ago created Miercoles Paisano -- roughly translated as Compatriot Wednesdays -- to hear problems from anyone who wanted to talk to him.

Since he began his open house, he has heard of problems both prosaic -- such as Mexicans who don’t know how to replace the birth certificates they left in Mexico -- and profound, including kidnapping and consumer fraud.

And he wades into issues that others in his position avoid.

“Most consuls go to events,” said Raquel Olamendi, his assistant. “They go to parties. They are boring. That’s why I work here. I really feel like we are doing something.”

He eschews business lunches in favor of visiting the jails, apartment complexes and border communities where immigrants seek his help. He also has increased the frequency of driving the consulate’s van into neighborhoods where he meets Mexicans at churches and schools. But most visit him on Wednesdays, when a line of 20 to 30 people wends from his second-story office, down the stairs and through the parking lot.

Ortiz Haro chats with visitors as if they were old friends, and because of his well-known informality, they come in their work clothes and job uniforms. Many cannot read and write proper Spanish.

Many talk about pending court cases or the plight of relatives in jail. Ortiz Haro, without passing judgment, helps them enlist lawyers, get access to court papers and find their way into jail visiting rooms.

No one in Mexico City demands Ortiz Haro open his office this way. He said he does so out of a feeling of personal obligation. He believes that with the large number of Mexicans in Orange County, he must become involved in the community instead of sitting on the sidelines and issuing passports and identification cards. “We’ve seen studies that show that most Mexican immigrants in Orange County have no more than a fifth-grade education,” said Ortiz Haro.

“I ask myself, ‘How can we turn these people away? How can they be expected to maneuver the system alone?’ ”

Last week, for instance, he sent queries to coroners in Mexico for information about a 2-year-old boy whose mother lives in Commerce. The boy was kidnapped during a visit to Mexico City by neighbors of relatives and is now missing.

Then he talked to the 12-year-old boy in juvenile hall. The youngster said he traveled alone from Mexico to visit Disneyland, and was beaten by relatives in Santa Ana who then turned him over to authorities after accusing him of molesting their daughter.

Ortiz Haro said he hopes to help arrange for the boy’s return to Mexico -- after taking him to Disneyland.

The consul offered financial assistance to Audelia Lopez, a 24-year-old La Habra resident whose 5-year-old son was killed by a car Feb. 28 while she was visiting her husband, who was jailed on drug charges the day before.

“Do not be ashamed to cry, Audelia,” Ortiz Haro said, handing the shaking young woman a box of tissues. “I would be feeling just like you do.”

He called Orange County Asst. Sheriff George Jaramillo to discuss how the husband could attend his son’s funeral. Hanging up, he told Lopez that her husband would likely be there. Then he helped get humanitarian visas for two grandmothers in Mexico who want to come to the funeral.

He also met with Maria Elena Guillen, who was not allowed to see her son at the Imperial County Jail because she lacked U.S.-issued identification.

While Guillen waited, Ortiz Haro called the consul in Calexico and learned the jail would accept a matricula consular, the Mexican government identification card. Then Ortiz Haro helped Guillen and her daughter obtain the card.

“It seems like a simple problem, but for us, it’s harder,” said Guillen, 64. “We don’t speak the language. We’re not from here and we don’t know where to turn. I’m sick and this could be my last chance to see my son ever.”

A 17-year-old boy also came to Ortiz Haro for help in obtaining a matricula consular. He didn’t have the required signature of a parent because his mother was in Mexico.

So Ortiz Haro reached for the phone. “Hi. This is the consul in Santa Ana, California. Would it be OK if I give your son a matricula? It would give him the ability to travel out of the country.”

The mother consented.

While the card was processed, Ortiz Haro asked the teen about his life. He had been working at carwashes and restaurants in the United States for two years and wanted to travel to Washington state, where a restaurant job awaits him.

As the teen moved toward the door, Ortiz Haro admonished him: “Hey, carnal [brother], watch yourself.”