In the back of an old stucco building near the middle of
Downtown Gilroy, 21-year-old Emelen Recillas went to sleep every
night on a bathroom towel, which she laid on a cement floor
alongside 30 other immigrant women who served drinks and
entertained male visitors at a Morgan Hill bar.
In the back of an old stucco building near the middle of Downtown Gilroy, 21-year-old Emelen Recillas went to sleep every night on a bathroom towel, which she laid on a cement floor alongside 30 other immigrant women who served drinks and entertained male visitors at a Morgan Hill bar.
“Sometimes it was dancing,” said Recillas.
Other times it was forced prostitution.
She stood in the rain Thursday in Gourmet Alley behind 7373 Monterey St. gazing at the unoccupied, cramped quarters she once called home for nine months.
“The rule was you need to stay very happy with the men,” she said.
Since moving to the United States in 1998, this is the first time in 14 years Recillas resolved to publicly share her story with the media.
The 34-year-old Hollister resident, who is still in the process of rebuilding her life, has been selected to receive the Healing Hearts award from Community Solutions on March 18 at the Morgan Hill Cultural Center at 17000 Monterey St.
The honor recognizes individuals overcoming significant barriers and challenges who are now leading healthy and productive lives, according to Perla Flores, director of domestic violence, sexual assault and human trafficking programs for Community Solutions.
Recillas’s case was reported to the San Jose Human Trafficking Task Force in 2009, but Flores explained there are no leads, no suspects and no charges since the Victims of Trafficking and Violence Protection Act, which criminalized human trafficking, was passed in 2000.
No reports have been filed concerning these circumstances, according to Sgt. Wes Stanford of the Gilroy Police Department.
As she continued to share weighty memories – sometimes pausing in pensive silence – Recillas said it took heavy deliberation before she decided to speak to authorities in 2009.
When asked why neighbors said nothing about three dozen women going in and out of a small building every morning and night, Recillas said she’s been asking the same question.
“I can’t believe this happened, either. But it happened in Gilroy, it happened in California and it happens in the United States,” she said.
In 1998, the 21-year-old immigrant left Mexico City to work at a bar on Monterey Street in Morgan Hill which is now closed.
Recillas believed she would be earning her keep as a waitress; however she unknowingly entered a nightmare lurking behind promises of a better life.
As she told the story, Recillas’s eyes turned glassy.
Recillas explained a truck picked up the women every day from the Gilroy garage and drove them to work in Morgan Hill.
When they returned, Recillas said they slept inside the building on Monterey Street – a poorly ventilated, dimly lit, padlocked living space with a barred window, shower, toilet and no sink. She said the front part of the building was a “beauty/fashion” store at the time.
“I think the neighbors may have suspected something,” she said. “But no one said anything.”
Recillas said none of the women tried to leave because they had no other expectations.
“Some had permission for going in or out,” she said, looking up at the small window. “But not the new ones.”
She said she didn’t wish to go into extensive detail about being coerced sexually in order to repay her “debt.”
This scenario continued for a dismal nine months until one morning, the truck that took the women to work failed to appear.
Recillas eventually learned the bar was shut down after authorities discovered some of its employees were underage, Flores said.
As for the bar’s owner, Recillas never saw her again.
Flores was quick to address a common question that often arises in the case of human trafficking, which is “if Recillas wasn’t locked up 24/7, why didn’t she escape?”
“Though a lot of the victims were being exploited, it might have been a better situation than what they were in at home,” Flores said Wednesday. “It’s not just the typical restraints, or guards. There’s also the emotional component to it.”
Flores explained the man who recruited Recillas knew where she came from in Mexico, knew her family and threatened to harm Recillas and her loved ones if she attempted to flee.
“They would tell her, ‘we transported you here, you owe us room and board, we know where your family lives and accidents can happen,’ ” Flores said.
Flores also pointed out in Mexico City, law enforcement can be corrupt. Going to the police – which also posed the threat of deportation – wasn’t an option.
“When the women would call back home, someone would even monitor their phone calls,” she said. “There are tangible ways to control someone against their will, but emotional issues come into play as well.”
It wasn’t until 2009 that Recillas came to fully understand the severity of what she endured. She saw a TV special on human trafficking, and realized there was a specific classification for the kind of abuse she had been subjected to.
After sitting on the decision for several more days, she reported her story to the National Human Trafficking Hotline and was later connected with Flores on the local level.
As for the other women, Recillas said she has spoken with one twice in the past 13 years but does not wish to contact any of them at this time.
“She’s still confronting her own emotions,” said Flores, putting her arm around Recillas.
She said Recillas is working with a clinical supervising attorney on obtaining a U Visa, which Flores said can be granted to victims of crime or assault.
“Then she might be able to apply for residency,” said Flores. “But it’s not a guaranteed thing.”
As Recillas stood close to the aging, gray colored building, she looked at the locked door, then backed away slowly.
“My principal reason for doing this is for raising awareness,” she said.
