Protesters disrupt Texas Legislature, as lawmakers scuffle and threaten gun violence
Hundreds of protesters opposing Texas’ tough new anti-"sanctuary cities” law launched a raucous demonstration from the public gallery in the Texas House on Monday, briefly halting work and prompting lawmakers on the floor below to scuffle — and even threaten gun violence — as tense divides over hardline immigration policies boiled over.
Demonstrators wearing red T-shirts reading “Lucha,” or “Fight,” quietly filled hundreds of gallery seats as proceedings began. After about 40 minutes, they began to cheer, drowning out the lawmakers below. Protesters also blew whistles and chanted: “Here to stay!” and “Hey, hey, ho, ho, SB4 has got to go,” referring to the bill that Republican Gov. Greg Abbott signed into law this month.
Some waved banners reading: “See you in court!” Texas’ new law is reminiscent of a 2010 Arizona “show your papers” measure that allowed police to inquire about a person’s immigration status during routine interactions such as traffic stops. It was eventually struck down in court.
Under SB4, Texas police chiefs and sheriffs are required — under the threat of jail and removal from office — to comply with federal requests to hold criminal suspects for possible deportation.
Police officers also have the option to ask the immigration status of anyone they stop. The bill was viewed as a crackdown on Austin and other “sanctuary cities,” a term that has no legal meaning but describes parts of the country where police are not tasked with helping enforce federal immigration law.
The Texas House leadership stopped the session and asked state troopers to clear the gallery. The demonstration continued for about 20 minutes as officers led people out of the chamber peacefully in small groups. There were no reports of arrests.
A legislative session that began in January concluded Monday, and the day was supposed to be reserved for group photos and goodbyes. Lawmakers are constitutionally barred from approving most legislation on the last day.
But even after the protest ended, tensions remained high. State Rep. Ramon Romero, a Democrat from Fort Worth, said he was standing with fellow Democratic Rep. Cesar Blanco of El Paso when Republican colleague Matt Rinaldi came over and said: “This is BS. That’s why I called ICE.”
Rinaldi, of Irving in suburban Dallas, and Blanco then began shouting at each other. A scuffle nearly ensued before other lawmakers separated the two.
Later, a group of Democratic lawmakers held a news conference to accuse Rinaldi of threatening to “put a bullet in the head” of someone on the House floor during a second near scuffle. They said the comment was made in the direction of Democratic Rep. Poncho Nevarez, from the border town of Eagle Pass.
Rinaldi left the House floor and was unavailable for comment, but he told the Dallas Morning News that he was only objecting to the Democrats seemingly riling up the protesters. Rinaldi’s website says he has a license to carry a concealed handgun.
Monday’s protest was organized by activists who canvassed over Memorial Day weekend in Austin. They informed anxious immigrants about the rights they retain despite the law and urged grassroots resistance against it.
Abril Gallardo rode 15 hours in a van to Austin to urge fellow Latinos to fight back.
“Fear motivated me to get involved,” said Gallardo, a 26-year-old Mexican native who entered the U.S. illegally at age 12.
Texas cities and immigrant rights’ groups have challenged the legality of the law, hopeful for a legal victory like the one in Arizona, but that could take months to have any effect.
But even as some vowed to fight, others have begun fleeing the state. Their ranks are still too small to quantify, but a larger exodus — similar to what occurred in Arizona — could have a profound effect on the Texas economy. The state has more than 1 million immigrants in the country illegally, according to the Migration Policy Institute.
Some are abandoning Texas for more liberal states, where they feel safer — even if it means relinquishing lives they’ve spent years building.
Jose, a 43-year-old Mexican living in the U.S. illegally since 2001, and his wife, Holly, left Austin for Seattle in January in anticipation of Texas’ immigration crackdown. That meant parting with Jose’s grown son, their community of friends and their beloved home of eight years.
“I felt like we ripped our roots up and threw ourselves across the country,” said Holly, a 40-year-old Kentucky native who wanted to protect her husband.
Holly said as soon as Donald Trump was elected president, she and her husband began preparing to move. They expected Texas would “follow Trump’s agenda trying to force local law enforcement to do immigration’s job.” And when they heard Texas had approved a crackdown on “sanctuary cities,” she said, they “finalized the decision.”
“I was living in constant fear in Texas,” said Holly, who works as an immigration paralegal and has been married to Jose for 11 years. “Now I know my husband is safe, and I don’t have to worry every day about whether he’s going to come home.”
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