Silverio Villegas González, a 38-year-old father and cook from Michoacán, Mexico, who was shot and killed by Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents in Franklin Park was remembered as a “kind soul” and a devoted father,” by his loved ones.
“May Silverio’s memory live on in the hearts of all who knew and loved him,” the Gofundme says, while also describing him a “devoted father” and “kind soul.”
Lily Rivera, the fund’s organizer, said Villegas González was a “cherished friend” and called his killing shortly after dropping his child off at school “cruel.”
Villegas González leaves behind him “a legacy of warmth, resilience, and deep compassion,” according to the GoFundMe, which explained that Villegas González “always extended a helping hand, shared his smile freely, and showed up for those he loved — no matter the circumstances.”
The fundraiser is seeking donations to cover funeral and burial costs, memorial service arrangements, and support for his family.
“As we begin to process this immense loss, we are asking for your support to help cover the [expenses] that will allow us to honor Silverio’s life with the dignity and respect he truly deserves,” according to the GoFundMe.
Villegas González was identified Saturday by the Cook County medical examiner’s office, according to Chicago Sun-Times reporting.
U.S. Rep. Delia Ramirez, D-Ill., said during a news conference that he had brought his child to school just before the shooting occurred in Franklin Park.
ICE stated that when agents stopped his vehicle, they were conducting “targeted law enforcement activity.” The agency said Villegas González resisted arrest and drove into officers before an agent fired at him.
Villegas González was transferred to a hospital and pronounced dead.
As of Monday, the GoFundMe had raised $32,674 of its $40,000 goal. The page thanks supporters for their “prayers, kind words, and support” and concludes: “May Silverio’s memory live on in the hearts of all who knew and loved him.”
Meanwhile on Monday, several mourners stopped at a makeshift memorial for Villegas-Gonzalez leaving flowers, cards and signs reading “ICE out of Chicago.”
Karla Solis was among the early crowd, leaving a white flower at the memorial.“It’s just scary to think this could have been my parents,” Solis said.
“He was just taking his children to school. He was someone in my community,” Solis said.
Solis’ parents, immigrants from Mexico, have been nervous to leave the house for the last year, but even more so in the wake of the killing.
“It’s really unnerving,” Solis said. “Because of this and ICE being in Chicago, I’ve been grocery shopping for my parents. They’re not going out if they don’t need to. … I wish my parents could feel comfortable but they don’t. You don’t want to see your parents scared.”
Vanessa — a lifelong Franklin Park area resident who declined to give her full name out of fear of retribution against her family — said she cried at her workplace just down the street when she first heard the news. She too has immigrant parents from Mexico, and has been angered by the portrayal of not just Villegas-Gonzalez — whose background included a handful of traffic citations — but also other immigrants as “dangerous criminals.”
“They try to portray all immigrants as criminals or drug dealers, it’s just really hurtful to see that racism in our country and how normalized it’s becoming,” she said.
But seeing the memorial eased some of the pain she has been sharing with her community, which she said has been hurting since the fatal shooting.
“Just to see all the people coming out with flowers, it’s uplifting,” she said. “[But] my mom is scared to leave the house, especially after this happened. It’s all built on fear.”
Later in the day, a small group stood along the West Grand Avenue and held signs saying “No human is illegal” and “give peace a chance,” among other slogans.
Shortly before they arrived, Valenti Montenegro, a Franklin Park resident of more than 50 years, stopped to talk with others at the memorial. The child of immigrants from Durango, Mexico, said he was saddened and angered. His father brought him and his brothers here more than half a century ago.
“We’re not animals, but they’re treating us like animals,” Montenegro said. “Everybody is nervous. … All he had left to do was run away. “
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