“I Won’t Give Up on Pasqual”: West Liberty priest stands up and speaks out
Fr. Guillermo Treviño Jr. of West Liberty discusses the deportation of a beloved parishioner, the power of community support, and his call for moral leadership in Iowa politics.
Fr. Guillermo Treviño Jr. is the parish priest for the towns of West Liberty and Columbus Junction. I’ve known Guillermo for about 20 years, since he was a soft-spoken student in my Journalism 101 class at Black Hawk Junior College in Moline.
He loves professional wrestling, fair food, superhero movies—and Jesus. If there were a picture next to the “salt-of-the-earth” entry in the dictionary, no one would be surprised to see his photo. He is not a radical, a rabble-rouser, or particularly political—and never has been.
This past week, however, a guest column he wrote about his parishioner Pasqual Pedro—who was effectively kidnapped by ICE during a routine immigration hearing in Cedar Rapids and deported without due process—has gone viral. Published in several Iowa media outlets, including the Cedar Rapids Gazette and Des Moines Register, it justifiably calls out the feckless cowardice Iowa Republican legislators Charles Grassley, Joni Ernst, Ashley Hinson, and Mariannette Miller-Meeks have displayed in the face of one of their constituents having his constitutional rights trampled.
I called Guillermo this week to thank him for his bravery and willingness to take a stand on behalf of the vulnerable members of his flock. Below is a lightly edited transcription of our conversation.
Brecht: Guillermo, your first assignment as a priest was in the Quad Cities, correct?
Treviño Jr.: The Quad Cities has been my home most of my life. I was born in San Antonio, but then I lived in the Quad Cities for 29 years. My first three years as a priest were in Davenport, on the West End at Saint Alphonsus, which is known for its fish fries. Then I served at St. Mary’s, because of its Hispanic ministry. Finally, I was at little St. Peter’s in Buffalo. Then, seven years ago, the Bishop moved me to West Liberty, where I am now.
Brecht: What was it like going from the cities to a small town in Iowa?
Treviño Jr.: It was hard—moving is always difficult. But it’s interesting being in small-town Iowa because I’m now very involved in the community. I’m on the Chamber of Commerce board, and I’ve been asked to help with two superintendent searches for the public school. I’m also the unofficial leader of the Hispanic community here.
Brecht: West Liberty is one of, or the only, majority-minority communities in Iowa, right?
Treviño Jr.: Correct. There might be three now, and ironically two of them—West Liberty and Columbus Junction—are part of my parish. West Liberty is 58% Hispanic. What’s interesting is that it’s not just people from Mexico, where my family is from. We also have many people from El Salvador, other parts of Central America, and Guatemala—where Pasqual is from.
Brecht: I know initially there was some discomfort among the white population with the influx of Latinos, but compared to many other small towns in Iowa, West Liberty seems vibrant—lots of open businesses and activity downtown.
Treviño Jr.: On my first day in town seven years ago, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Growing up in a bigger area like the Quad Cities, I had some preconceived notions. I went to the bank to switch the parish account from the old pastor, and one of the first things I noticed was that the vice president of the bank was Latina, and the tellers were Latino. I was amazed.
Downtown we have the Acapulco bakery and a few Mexican restaurants. At the county fair, there’s a line for Central American pupusas—people come from Iowa City and the Quad Cities for them.
Brecht: In the Quad Cities, there’s diversity, but communities often remain separate—with some exceptions like Mercado on Fifth. Is it different in a smaller town?
Treviño Jr.: Yeah, I'm still a little shocked by it—even after seven years. The fact that I’m asked to be involved in so many community events and decisions is incredible. In bigger cities, the church and the community don’t always work that closely together. But here, we kind of have to—there’s no one else to do it. The mayor will call me and ask for help. I joke that I can’t hide anywhere—no matter where I go. Even kids who aren’t Catholic ask me for advice.
Brecht: It’s been remarkable to see how everyone in the community has come out in support of Pasqual—not just the Latino community, but everyone. Are there lessons the wider Iowa or even the national community can learn from the small-town experience in West Liberty?
Treviño Jr.: I’ve been shocked at the level of support. It’s come from places I never imagined, and I’m getting messages from people I never expected. I think it’s because we all know each other. That’s one of the positives in a small town—people advocate for each other. Kids and parents are saying, “He was on the soccer team. He’s somebody’s kid.” He’s not a criminal. People advocate personally because they know him.
Brecht: Let’s talk a little about Pasqual. I think most people know the basics—that he followed the rules, attended hearings, did everything right. Was there any sense this might happen, or did it come completely out of the blue?
Treviño Jr.: It came out of the blue. No one expected it. His family is from Guatemala. His grandparents are quiet and unassuming; they don’t draw attention to themselves. His grandfather was at the prayer vigil Tuesday night and said he wishes, in hindsight, that he had gone with him to the hearing. Every other year, he’d gone with him. They didn’t expect anything because Pasqual has no criminal record and always did what he was supposed to do. That’s what made it such a shock.
Brecht: During his campaign, President Trump said ICE would focus on people with criminal records. Did your parishioners believe that? Were they surprised by how things are turning out?
Treviño Jr.: There’s always been fear. But I think many believed, “If I have no record, I’ll be fine.” That was the thinking. But now people are nervous. A woman came to see me after Mass yesterday and asked for a lawyer’s phone number—and if I’d go with her to her appointment next month. She has no record either, but everyone’s scared now. It’s hitting close to home.
Brecht: One thing that struck me in your column was your criticism of the moral choices made by Iowa political leaders—specifically Ernst, Grassley, and Hinson. Are you disappointed?
Treviño Jr.: I’m disappointed they spoke before getting all the facts. As legislators, they have access to more information—like what’s in his file. But they made comments without the full story and got it wrong. That’s why I called them out. They tried to paint Pasqual as a criminal when he wasn’t given due process. That’s why we’re hoping to meet with them and share the real story.
Brecht: Do we know where Pasqual is now?
Treviño Jr.: He’s in Guatemala. I reached him through Facebook Messenger. I keep in touch. He’s obviously in shock—about how fast everything happened. A few days later, he sent me pictures of his church in Guatemala. He’s with his mom.
Brecht: He spent most of his life here, right?
Treviño Jr.: He came when he was 13—so seven years ago. He spent all his teenage years here. He graduated from West Liberty High School last year and was working for his grandfather’s construction company.
Brecht: Is the goal to bring him back?
Treviño Jr.: That’s what we’re fighting for. His record is clean—we just want to go through whatever legal hoops we have to jump through.
We’ve been holding rallies and prayer vigils. We want to bring him home. Our whole community wants that. The Chamber of Commerce director wrote a letter. So did the mayor, the high school principal, me—his pastor. Even the Bishop of Davenport. Around 50 people have written letters. It’s heartbreaking.
Brecht: I’ve known you a long time, and you’re not someone who agitates or protests—you’re a community builder. But you seem to have a little fight in you over this. Why?
Treviño Jr.: Because it’s personal. He’s part of my church. I was his confirmation sponsor—only my second ever. He could have picked anyone, but he picked me to be a mentor, a spiritual father.
He’s a church member and an upstanding member of our community.
Brecht: Has the lack of leadership from Iowa’s elected officials changed how you see the state?
Treviño Jr.: In some ways, yes. That’s why I’m calling them out. I’m hoping a personal plea can change their minds. The amount of support Pasqual has received has already exceeded expectations. It’s still an uphill climb, but I have faith—and I hope at least one of our elected leaders will step up.
Brecht: You’re a great example of the American dream—the child of immigrants. Your parents weren’t originally from the U.S., right?
Treviño Jr.: My father came to this country 13 or 14 times. Back then, it was “catch and release.” My mother lived on the border—her father was a Native American from Oklahoma—so her process was a little easier. But it’s still an immigrant story. They met at a pro wrestling event in San Antonio. Then they moved to the Quad Cities when I was three.
The amnesty bill in the 1980s, signed by Reagan, legalized my father. He always told those stories. I can relate to the new generation because my family has come a long way. Even as a small-town pastor, I’ve been blessed with so many gifts.
My dad died when I was young, but my mom never gave up. My family never gave up on me. And that’s why I won’t give up on Pasqual. When the odds seem insurmountable, that’s exactly when you can’t quit. So I won’t.
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Thanks for posting this, Tory.
Nice story!