Bubba Patrol

The Minutemen are ready to patrol Texas' border. Are we ready for them?

Bill Parmley's dad was a sheriff and his granddaddy was, too, and one thing Bill learned early in life was the difference between right and wrong.

Now a month shy of 50, Parmley grew up in the small South Texas town of Sarco, 10 miles down a dirt road from the county seat of Goliad. After going to college in Nacogdoches, where he earned a master's in geology, he moved back, planning to live there among the mesquite trees, longhorns and cacti for the rest of his life.

But that was before undocumented immigrants began destroying his land, he says, and before white vans loaded with people started speeding down the farm-to-market roads at all hours. He and other landowners found people in their barns or on their patios, refugees who had lost their way and given up. Livestock started to disappear, either eaten by immigrants or let out by smugglers (who aren't the most conscientious when it comes to closing gates on their way through).

A border patrol agent wrestles a suspect to the ground in Laredo.
Daniel Kramer
A border patrol agent wrestles a suspect to the ground in Laredo.
At sector command in Laredo, border agents monitor cameras on the Rio Grande.
Daniel Kramer
At sector command in Laredo, border agents monitor cameras on the Rio Grande.

Parmley, who runs an oil-field company, knew local law enforcement was doing its best, but he also knew the problem was too big. He decided it was time to seek outside help.

In February, Parmley placed a call to Arizona and got in touch with Chris Simcox, one of the founders of the group that patrolled the Arizona border in April, documenting illegal crossings and reporting offenders to the authorities. Once Simcox completed his mission there (and dealt with the explosion of media coverage), he came to Texas and helped Parmley start the Texas Minuteman Civil Defense Corps, a group with similar goals.

That's when Bill Parmley the activist was born.

Two months ago, Parmley announced plans to patrol the Texas-Mexico border in October. "We are not racist," he said. "This is not a race issue. It is an issue of the law...We do not care what color you are, who you are, but if you come into this country illegally, you are breaking federal law."

Adding his own twist to the Minuteman mission, Parmley, who became not only Goliad chapter president but president of one of the statewide Minuteman organizations, announced that operatives in Houston planned to film day laborers, undocumented workers given "sanctuary" by the city. "All we are doing is videotaping this type of violation of federal law," he said, "and in doing so we hope to remove federal funding from the city of Houston."

One month ago, Parmley took a few visitors to Goliad County to show them the damage done by undocumented immigrants who had been using local ranches as makeshift rest stops, waiting for the next coyote, or immigrant smuggler, to pick them up and haul them to Dallas, Houston and beyond.

He walked through the thicket, kicking piles of trash and watching for rattlesnakes. "We found this by accident," he said, pointing to several dead patches of grass surrounded by pizza boxes, plastic bags and aluminum cans. "To wear that dirt down to the ground, shit, it takes a lot of people, man, a lot of traffic."

It was humid in South Texas. Huge thunderheads floated above, and each appearance of the midsummer sun saturated the air with a dense stickiness. Parmley's black polo shirt bunched up near his belly, sweated into place. "It's nothing for us to walk out when we're counting calves in our pastures and to find 50 people standing out there," he said.

The problem's been going on for years, but it's become a lot worse over the last five or so, he said. "These coyotes have no regard for the people they're trafficking," he said. "They will leave them out in the brush for a week, maybe not even come back and pick them up. And these people are hungry; they're starving. A lot of these people have not eaten in a week, 10 days."

Parmley's not a talking head; he's a man who stares the immigration issue in the face almost every day of his life. And he claims that more than a thousand people have contacted him about the Texas Minuteman Civil Defense Corps, folks from all over the state who want to pitch in and help out.

His group isn't the only one in Texas; several others have popped up, including the Texas Minutemen LLC, an organization based in Arlington that plans to patrol the border from Laredo to El Paso. But the Texas Minuteman Civil Defense Corps has received the most attention, due in part to being closely aligned with the national organization, but mostly because of Parmley's resignation, which came less than a week after the South Texas walking tour.

Members of his local chapter are racist, he said. He accused them of trying to oust the local Hispanic sheriff, a friend of his. He couldn't take it anymore. He had to get out.

And just like that, Bill Parmley the activist died.

What was once a small group of anti-illegal immigration activists in Arizona has become a national movement: the Minutemen. The name conjures up images of men in long coats, muskets in hand, ready to fight in 60 seconds--or at least that's what history tells us. The contemporary version, the one that's televised, shows us senior citizens in lawn chairs, binoculars and walkie-talkies in lap, waiting for action.
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