“We are a primary target, whether we like it or not,” remarked 87-year-old Monsignor James Kelly regarding his efforts in aiding immigrants, as the Trump administration pledges mass deportations.
Our meeting took place at District 3 Immigration Services, a small office situated on a vibrant Brooklyn thoroughfare, where the Manhattan skyline could be seen in the distance.
Originally from Adare, County Limerick, Father Kelly, who speaks Irish, first traveled to Rome to learn Italian. Upon moving to New York in 1960, he was assigned to a predominantly Italian-speaking parish.
He then underwent training—somewhat unwillingly, he admitted—to become a lawyer.
Throughout the years, he witnessed waves of new arrivals from various regions, initially from Germany, followed by Italy, Ireland, Poland, and currently, Latin America. He assisted thousands in obtaining U.S. citizenship while acquiring several languages along the way.
“We teach them English, and I accompany them to court,” he explained to RTÉ News, “helping them legally adjust their status,” adding, “we won’t provide phony papers.”
The center offers legal services at significantly reduced prices, with most of its funding coming from another property leased to the U.S. Department of Education.
As President Donald Trump’s immigration crackdown intensifies across America, Father Kelly—locally referred to as Padre Kelly—expressed concern that organizations like his could be targeted.
“Thanks be to God, we haven’t been troubled by Trump,” he said, crossing his fingers, “this office has not been raided.”
However, within the center, which assists approximately 60-70 immigrants daily, many of whom lack documentation, there was a palpable fear that a raid could occur at any time.
Father Kelly’s office in Brooklyn, New York
The waiting area, adorned with various Catholic posters, photographs of Father Kelly with the Pope, and an American flag, had yellow-painted walls where a handful of individuals sat anxiously in a line, some clutching important documents.
Others walked nervously around, glancing out the window onto the bustling street.
Most recoiled from the camera, turning their faces away.
Only one individual, a U.S. citizen seeking advice on her father’s expiring green card, agreed to speak.
“People are scared,” Father Kelly stated.
Though they still seek advice, he noted, they have ceased sharing their stories about how they entered the United States. The current administration has threatened to deport anyone found to have crossed the border illegally.
“Before Trump, we received all this information, but now we aren’t getting any,” he said.
“They are unsure if we’re connected to immigration—we’re not; we operate independently—but they fear losing their jobs and, more importantly, being deported,” he explained.
Father Kelly acknowledged that the lack of immigration control during the initial years of the Biden administration contributed to the popularity of Trump’s policies.
“It’s beneficial for us if there’s stricter control because we operate within the legal system—we have no issues with that,” he remarked.
People sit in a line, some anxiously clutching papers, in Fr Kelly’s waiting room
The crux of the issue is the uncertainty.
He felt at a loss for how to guide clients, many of whom had been residing and working in the U.S. for years, with numerous cases pending in immigration courts.
“What’s Trump planning to do with all these individuals?” he pondered.
Although officially retired, Father Kelly remains a constant presence in the office. He now walks with a cane following a health scare and a brief hospitalization last year.
The daily operations are largely managed by 26-year-old Princess Reinoso—someone Father Kelly describes as possessing an exceptional “legal mind.”
Born in the U.S., Ms. Reinoso was raised in a Brooklyn community of Ecuadorian immigrants.
She pointed out that there have been some positive aspects to Trump’s stricter immigration policies.
While many arrive in America seeking a better life, some brought “guns and violence,” making her local community feel increasingly unsafe.
“I’ve visited Ecuador, and I’ve witnessed the situation there,” she reflected, “and I wondered—uh-oh, is this becoming Ecuador too?”
The fear of deportation compelled some individuals to “shape up their behavior,” she noted.
However, the atmosphere of fear permeated the entire community.
The administration has highlighted deportations of immigrants charged with or convicted of crimes, but many without criminal records have also been caught up in these actions.
Ms. Reinoso mentioned that numerous individuals stopped attending church or sending their children to school due to fears of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) raids. Others chose to leave the U.S. altogether.
She remarked that images of criminals often “tend to have a Latino face,” leading to the demonization of Latin American immigrants in government rhetoric and media portrayals. This even affected how people perceived her.
“Because I’m not white and blonde, they don’t see me as a U.S. citizen,” she stated.
Pictures adorn the walls inside Fr Kelly’s Brooklyn office
According to her, the best hope for the undocumented, who are already integrated into U.S. society with jobs and children in schools, is some form of amnesty—but that seems unlikely in the prevailing political climate.
The Trump administration has sought to revoke birthright citizenship as enshrined in the U.S. Constitution and recently invoked the wartime Alien Enemies Act to expedite deportations.
In his 65 years of service, Father Kelly declared this to be the most hostile environment he has witnessed for undocumented immigrants.
“When the Italians arrived in 1968, they were treated with considerable compassion,” he recalled, “because they were victims of an earthquake.”
It was relatively easy to adjust their status, just as it was for the Irish immigrants.
Following a recent article about him published in the New York Times, Father Kelly heard from several individuals he had assisted in becoming citizens years ago, many of whom have since achieved great success in fields like law and medicine.
“I didn’t know you were still doing this work,” they told him, and some even sent donations.
His alma mater, St. John’s University in New York, also reached out to offer him an honor.
“Don’t forget, I’ve been here since 1960,” he said, “I’ve known all these kids and their parents—and their grandparents before them.”
Father Kelly enjoys a celebrity stature in the neighborhood, according to Ms. Reinoso.
“It’s amusing because if you walk down the street with him, people call out: Padre Kelly!” she shared.
As he reflected on his extensive experience assisting immigrants in New York City, he was asked what he believed the future held.
“Only God knows,” he replied. “God,” he added, “and Mr. Trump.”
