Migrants plot next move as tensions in tijuana heighten

Reporting from Tijuana — For thousands of Central Americans packed into a sports complex in Tijuana that’s crowded with tents and smells strongly of sewage, the journey has only gotten

harder. After a clash at the border Sunday, United States authorities closed the San Ysidro Port of Entry for more than four hours and said 69 migrants who had managed to cross could face

criminal charges. The U.S. Northern Command in recent days has redirected 300 troops to California to help with border security. On the Mexican side, authorities said they arrested 39

migrants and are deporting 98 others linked to the fracas. President Trump on Monday called on Mexico to send “flag waving Migrants, many of whom are stone cold criminals, back to their

countries.” “Do it by plane, do it by bus, do it anyway you want, but they are NOT coming into the U.S.A. We will close the Border permanently if need be. Congress, fund the WALL!” he

tweeted. Speaking with reporters in Gulfport, Miss., on Monday, Trump falsely claimed that three Border Patrol agents were “very badly hurt” by rocks and stones in Sunday’s skirmish. He said

he would consider closing the border if there’s violence and suggested some of the people photographed with children were “grabbers,” not their parents, because it’s “safer” to be with a

child. 1/10 A group of Central American migrants -- mostly Hondurans -- climb a metal barrier on the U.S.-Mexico border in Tijuana.   (PEDRO PARDO / AFP/Getty Images) 2/10 A group of Central

American migrants get over a fence as they try to reach the U.S.-Mexico border in Tijuana.   (PEDRO PARDO / AFP/Getty Images) 3/10 A Central American migrant is stopped by U.S. agents who

order him back across the border after a group of migrants got past Mexican police.   (Pedro Acosta / Associated Press) 4/10 Tear gas is used to prevent groups of people from crossing the

border in Tijuana.   (David Guzm / EPA / Shutterstock) 5/10 One man makes a stand as U.S. Border Patrol agents deploy tear gas on migrants refusing to step away from the concertina wire set

up along the U.S.-Mexico border.   (Nelvin C. Cepeda / San Diego Union-Tribune) 6/10 Migrants breach the police line set up by the Mexican federal police in San Ysidro.   (Nelvin C. Cepeda /

San Diego Union-Tribune) 7/10 A Honduran migrant speaks to U.S. Border Patrol agents on the other side of razor wire after they fired tear gas at migrants pressing to cross into the U.S.

from Tijuana.   (Ramon Espinosa / Associated Press) 8/10 Mexican police run as they try to keep migrants from getting past a border crossing in Tijuana.   (Ramon Espinosa / Associated Press)

9/10 Migrants try to push past Mexican police on the U.S.-Mexico border in Tijuana.   (Rodrigo Abd / Associated Press) 10/10 Migrants walk up a river bank at the U.S.-Mexico border after

pushing past a line of Mexican police in Tijuana.   (Ramon Espinosa / Associated Press) Homeland Security Secretary Kirstjen Nielsen said no one was injured in Sunday’s clash. She added that

the caravan includes more than 600 convicted criminals, though it’s unclear how they were identified, and that an “overwhelming majority” of the caravan migrants are not eligible for

asylum. For many who have made the 2,700-mile trek to Tijuana from Central America, the unrest at the border and the political backlash that followed has added another layer of fear and

anxiety to an already agonizing situation. “I’m not trying to jump the wall,” said Dennis Martinez, a 34-year-old Honduran seeking asylum in the United States. “Many of us aren’t. Why should

we be punished for what a few have done?” The dusty complex where more than 5,700 migrants are staying was crowded Monday with tents and makeshift homes made of cardboard boxes, towels and

plastic trash bags. Hundreds lined up for food, while others hung their wet clothing to dry on trees. Some bathed in outdoor showers, armed Mexican federal police circling the camp in

armored trucks. A Honduran man asked a couple where he could sign up for asylum. The woman shook her head and got back to hanging her clothes on a line extending from one tree to another.

Children ran around a playground, gliding down red and yellow iron slides. A boy approached a passerby, begging for a peso. As the sun fell, hundreds of migrants lined up for dinner

distributed by Mexico’s Marines. On a spot of grass, a group of men played cards. Others sought to make a few pesos by selling cigarettes, slices of pizza or fresh-cut fruit. Others dozed.

And in some areas, families quietly debated next steps. None of their choices are easy: Wait months for the opportunity to file an asylum claim in the U.S. — officials at the San Ysidro

crossing generally accept no more than 100 asylum applications a day — stay and work in Tijuana, or go home. Mexican immigration authorities have been stationed at the shelter since migrants

began arriving, offering free rides back to Central America. Returning would be admitting defeat — and going back to the same impoverished and often violent conditions that caused many to

leave in the first place. But staying in Tijuana may not be much better. While the economy is booming in this sprawling border city of 1.8 million — low-slung factories cover the desert

hills on the eastern outskirts of town — Tijuana is also facing a crisis of violence. More people were killed here last year that any year before, and the city has already surpassed that

record this year. The violence has mostly been focused in the city’s slums, where Central American migrants would most probably end up living. Staying also means waiting in a city that has

become increasingly hostile to immigrants, despite the facts that the majority of its residents migrated here themselves from other parts of Mexico, and that the city has successfully

integrated other large waves of migrants — from China, Iraq and, most recently, Haiti. “The Mexican people here are bothered by our presence,” Martinez said. “They look us up and down. There

were protests. Some don’t want us here.” The Honduran man said he initially thought about staying in Tijuana to find work but now realizes the border city is not safe for foreigners such as

himself. “I’m escaping a dangerous situation,” he said. “Why would I then put myself in danger again?” Henry Jose Juarez, 16, was hit in the head by a tear-gas canister during Sunday’s

border clash and suffered several second-degree burns when the canister exploded. On Monday, he limped around the sports complex on a single crutch, bandages wrapped around his head, left

foot and right shoulder. Despite his wounds, Henry, a migrant from El Salvador who has been in Tijuana for a week, said he didn’t plan to go back. “There’s not a lot of work in my country,

and it pays very badly,” he said. “We came just to work.” Others felt disillusioned by the journey north. After nearly two weeks of living in the packed tent city, Ulices Diaz did something

he never imagined when he set out from Honduras last month with a small backpack and big dreams: He signed a voluntary deportation order to go home. Diaz, 29, missed his 10th wedding

anniversary and yearns for his family. He felt betrayed by both the caravan leaders, who organized the migrants to march to the border Sunday, and the U.S. agents who so violently spurned

them. “They attacked us like we were terrorists,” he said. “I’m a peaceful person. It’s clear we are not wanted here.” Astrid Lopez, 14, said her parents were considering returning with her

to Honduras. She was at the border bridge during Sunday’s clashes and had choked on tear gas. “They’re tired and afraid,” she said of her parents. But Astrid said she has been lobbying them

to stay. Only in the U.S., she told them, would she be able to fulfill her dream of getting an education. The lanky teen, dressed in donated clothes, loved school but was forced to drop out

a couple of years ago to start working at a restaurant because her parents couldn’t afford tuition. Life with the caravan has been an adventure — sometimes terrifying, sometimes fun. The

nights in Tijuana have been freezing. And they don’t know what comes next. But that was better, she said, than returning to a fate they knew in Honduras. “I just want to study,” Astrid said.

“I just want something more.” _Linthicum and Carcamo reported from Tijuana, Tchekmedyian from Los Angeles. Times staff writers Molly Hennessy-Fiske and Noah Bierman, and Sandra Dibble of

the San Diego Union-Tribune, contributed to this report._ MORE TO READ