Personal Stories

Brother Stephen Markham, FSC, was Auxiliary Visitor of the Winona District when Brother James was killed. In the days following Brother James death, Brother Stephen oversaw the return of Brother James’ body back to the United States from Guatemala, and was a spokesperson of the Brothers to the press.

Brother James (Santiago) Miller was born on September 21, 1944, in a farming community of central Wisconsin. This country setting instilled in Jim a love for his family and an identity with farm life that remained with him all his life.

The last year during Jim’s life he lived and worked at a boarding center where he taught methods in farming to poor Indian youth from the mountain villages surrounding Huehuetenango, Guatemala. Jim was repairing a wall at the center late in the afternoon of February 13, 1982 when he was shot and killed by men wearing facemasks and army uniforms, and firing sub-machine guns. He died instantly.

Bill Miller, Jim’s brother, remembers Jim as an energetic, religious and friendly boy who always wanted to be a priest – until he met the Christian Brothers at Pacelli High School in Stevens Point, Wisconsin. All his life Jim was known for his energy and enthusiasm. He was always on the go. He was outgoing and had the “gift of gab.” He made friends easily and always showed an interest in people whether they be young or old. Jim’s father, Arnold, said, “he was sensitive to people of all ages; he understood their moods. He was close to his neighbors and he often went to help them on their farms.” Wilfred Staffanus, a neighbor who farms across the road from the Miller homestead, was Jim’s sponsor at confirmation.  Steffanus was always proud of Jim. He recalls how Jim would help him pick stones in the fields and how he was always cheerful about it. Jim never complained about anything.

Brother Jim was home visiting his parents in December 1981, while Wilfred Staffanus’ mother was dying. Jim went over and talked with her. He prayed with her and read the psalms to her. Wilfred said, “Jim was a great consolation to her because he was so cheerful.” Mrs. Staffanus died the day Jim left for his mission in Guatemala. Jim’s mother, Lorraine, recalls when Jim returned from being with Mrs. Steffanus he said, “If death is always like hers, then I don’t know what people are afraid of.”

Jim was inquisitive and always anxious to learn. He received a World Book Encyclopedia as a gift when he entered Pacelli High School. His mother said she never saw any boy more excited. He read it from cover to cover. He was always looking up something about foreign countries, about geography, or about science. And he remembered what he read. Brother Theodore Drahmann, his director in the scholasticate and his principal at Cretin High School, remembers Jim as being very conscientious and serious about his studies as well as his teaching.

Jim grew from a rather simple, enthusiastic and intelligent farm boy into a capable and zealous teacher. He never lost the quality of simplicity nor the capacity for hard work. He was sociable person, well like by his students and colleagues, yet always maintaining a private element. Brother Theodore writes: “I believe this private element was the source of his faith and his commitment to the young and to the unfortunate.” Brother Theodore also recalls how completely human Jim was and how his procrastination was something that those in charge of him constantly had to put up with.

He loved to talk about his students, his soccer teams, his maintenance or construction work and he was fun to listen to. While he was still attending Edison Public School in Ellis, Wisconsin, about a mile and quarter from home, he walked back and forth to school every day. Jim’s mother recalls how “when he got home he would tell us everything he had seen that day,” and she said, “He was entertaining in his descriptions.”

A number of sources confirm that even as a young boy Jim wanted to be a priest. He himself wrote that in 1958 the collective good influence of the 11 Brothers at Pacelli High School in Stevens Point, Wisconsin, made him decide to join the Christian Brothers.

The Miller family notes that Jim was always religious and recall how he expressed his religious interests in authentic and simple ways. His brother Bill remembers that when Jim was small he used to play at saying Mass and benediction. Jim made a tabernacle from an old clock, and a monstrance from a tinker toy set. When he was somewhere around 10 or 12 years old, he was half way home from confession when he exclaimed, “Oh! I forgot to say my penance.” So he knelt right down there on the road and prayed. One of Jim’s jobs on the farm when he was a boy was to tend to the chickens. One day his brother Bill saw him kneeling over a hurt chicken and praying for it that it would not die.

In later years Jim lived out his religious convictions in unending energy and commitment to the service of others. He loved the people he worked with in Central America. He couldn’t do enough for his Indian students. Brother Bob Walsh, a confrere in Nicaragua, writes: “For Santiago, I think manual work was play, was recreation. I could not even attempt nor could I ever do all the things he was doing here in Puerto Cabezas for the people — teaching, administration, parish catechesis, civic projects and good old-fashioned manual labor. Brother Nicholas Geimer, also from Nicaragua, writes: I remember Jim for his emery and forcefulness. When he arrived in a Community, he jumped right into a dozen jobs. When he arrived in Bluefields, Nicaragua, he replaced almost all of the plumbing in the house. He began fixing up the house as soon as he arrived in Puerto Cabezas as well.”

Don Geng knew Brother Jim both as his Spanish teacher and later as a fellow faculty member at Cretin High School in Saint Paul, Minnesota, but he believed his true calling was to the poor of Central America. He gave nine years of his life serving the poor of Central America: eight years in Nicaragua and one in Guatemala where he gave of his life and in the end was gunned down because of who he was, because of what he believed, because he loved and served people who were denied the freedom, the dignity, and the right of self-determination. Brother Paul Joslin, Regional Superior of the American Christian Brothers in Guatemala, accompanied the body of Brother James to Saint Paul, Minnesota. When arriving in Saint Paul, Brother Paul released the following statement to the press: “I want to state very clearly that Brother’s death was no accident. Brother Santiago died for what he was and for what he stood for – a Christian educator, an apostle of the poor and the underprivileged, a worker for justice and of social change.”

Santiago, as Jim was known in Central America, developed friendly relationships with people  – all people – regardless of their position. He would take time to visit with the humblest, the simplest, most common people of the town. Brother Bob Walsh writes from Puerto Cabezas, “It seems the humble, simple, common people appreciated most their relationship with Santiago because they were the people who came to our door or stopped us in the street to extend their sympathy upon hearing of Santiago’s death.” There were also many non-Catholics who came to pray for their friend Santiago. It seemed that Santiago always met the person, he didn’t put labels on people and was not selective about who he would help or relate to.”

Santiago won the hearts of the people for whom he worked and served and it is not wonder that he did. He had ideas – he was always looking for ways to help the people, their schools, and their town. He had determination – the reason he was so busy was that he always became involved in the “carrying out” of his ideas and plans.

Jim was constantly being asked to serve on committees or do other jobs. For example in January, 1976, he was teaching two university classes in linguistics, teaching two typing classes, practicing with the volunteer firemen and trying to get their trucks working, attending meetings of the Wisconsin-Nicaraguan Partners, serving on the university extension curriculum committee, on a committee to plan a new library for the city, and on a committee to establish an educational radio station.  He was also supervising the beginning of construction for a shop building.  Meanwhile he and Brother Benildo were taking turns staying with Brother Michael Ponikvar in intensive care.  And all this was during school vacation.

The people of Puerto Cabezas credit Jim with the building of the school’s shop building, office complex, auditorium and science building.  Actually, the government was building similar additions and expansions on most of the schools on the Atlantic coast. What Jim really did accomplish was to get most of these buildings built 25-50% larger than originally planned. Needless to say, the architects and foremen didn’t appreciate his constant pressure and even going over their heads to government officials to get his revisions included in the plans.

The volunteer fire department in Puerto Cabezas has existed for many years, but mostly in name only. After each major fire, they reorganized but soon withered. When Jim got involved, they really prospered. He got a uniform of sorts for parades, visited most of the fire stations in the capitol and begged for unused nozzles, hoses, even a truck, and arranged a training course (in which he scored highest of all in the final exam). After he left, of course, the fire department went back to where it was before.

Jim lived each day to the fullest. Those of us who knew him are aware of the long hard days he put in at work. He loved his work and he loved the people he worked for. We have hear, since the time of his death, many testimonies that he was brave and courageous, so brave and courageous he gave his life for what he believed. I recall visiting with him when he was recovering from knee surgery at Saint Mary’s Hospital in Minneapolis in December of 1981.  Aware of the violence and the devastating conflicts in Guatemala, I asked Jim if he wasn’t frightened of the thought of returning. Jim responded, “You don’t think about that, that’s not why you’re there.  There’s too much to be done, you can’t waste your energies worrying about what might happen. If it happens, it happens.”

Jim was himself. He followed no other star but his own. He was proud of his farm background and never hesitated to share his farm stories no matter who the audience. He loved his roots and he loved his family dearly. The last two times Jim was home on leave from Central America I was privileged to take him to his farm. When you would get close to the farm and he could see it, he would light up with enthusiasm; he’d say, “There it is,” and proceed to explain the different things that his brothers, Ralph and Bill, had done to the farm since he left home and, talking with real enthusiasm, he would explain how it was when he was growing up.

Jim was noticeably happy. A natural smile was part of his personality, he was jovial, loved to talk, loved people, and was always friendly. When Jim was anywhere near, you knew it because you could hear him laugh.

Jim died as he lived – for others. At the funeral Mass celebrated in the Saint Paul Cathedral on February 16, 1982, Archbishop John Roach said, “Brother James took people from the hills, Indian boys, who had no chance in life and gave them a combination of knowledge and hope. He had touched the lives of many people.” Jim was a Christian Brother. We Brothers are proud to call him our own and we are proud to know that he worked in a mission so important that he would give his life for it.

Jim did not waste time making decisions. He made them when he had to and he did not fret over them. I recall asking him, while he was in the hospital in December, just weeks before he was killed, if he really intended to go back to Guatemala. He responded immediately, “Of course,” and there seemed to be almost surprise that I would even ask the question. It wasn’t something he would worry about. That is where he belonged; he loved those people; he wanted to be there.

After the funeral Mass in Saint Paul, I was privileged to spend some time with his two sisters, Patty and Louise, and their husbands. Louise recalled that when Jim was home the month before he died he said to her, “One of two frightening things could happen to me in Guatemala. I could be kidnapped, tortured, and killed, or, I could simply be gunned down.” Louise said the biggest fear he had, perhaps the only fear in this regard, was that it might be the first. It seems that he knew of the danger involved in doing what he was doing. Yet he focused his time and energy on carrying out his mission, the Church’s mission of serving the poor and the oppressed.

Jim was a man of faith. He lived and gave his life helping poor Indian boys learn the trade of farming so they could feed themselves. He lived and gave his life teaching in the Brothers’ school to help educate the poor youth of Guatemala so that someday they could free themselves. Jim was devoted teacher. He wanted to see his students become teachers, to see them return to their highland villages and teach basic subjects in their native dialects.  Jim was a faithful disciple of our Founder, Saint John Baptist De La Salle. In his Meditations For A Time of Retreat, De La Salle writes, “Your zeal must go so far that you are ready to give your very life, so dear to you are the children entrusted to you.”

Jim is a witness of Christ’s love. Bishop Frederick Freking expressed this very well in his concluding remarks at the funeral mass celebrated in Sacred Heart Church in Polonia, Wisconsin on February 18, 1982:

“I see in Brother James’ death the witness of Christ’s love, a witness to the dignity of the human person, and the right to freedom and justice that should be all of ours. Today we need to take a stand on these rights, especially of the poor.  Thank God there are people like Brother James to do that.”

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Brother Paul Joslin, FSC, was the former Regional Superior of the American Christian Brothers in Guatemala and lived in community with Brother James. He spent 12 years in Guatemala, and taught in secondary schools on the East Coast of the United States and at Lewis University in Illinois.

“What are you going to do about it?” was a very serious question posed to me by my co-worker Brother James (Santiago) A. Miller, FSC, on February 10, 1982, in Huehuetenango, Guatemala, at the conclusion of an extremely important meeting.

Brother James was beginning his second year in Guatemala after having spent 10 years in Nicaragua. We were the staff members at the Casa Indígena  De La Salle, a residence for indigenous students. Five other De La Salle Brothers resided in a house next to another educational institution, Colegio De La Salle, one kilometer from the “Casa.” We formed one religious community with two residences and two different institutions. Four of us were from the USA and three were Guatemalans. All of us were administrators and/or teachers in Colegio De La Salle – Huehuetenango.

In 1968 the Latin American Bishops met in Medellín, Colombia. One result of this meeting was to challenge all pastoral agents throughout Latin America to “give preferential option for the poor.” The city of Huehuetenango was completely surrounded by indigenous villages without the availability of secondary education. Motivated by the Medellín Bishops’ Conference, the De La Salle Christian Brothers made an important decision to begin a scholarship program for indigenous youth from the area surrounding Huehuetenango providing them with much needed scholarships and a place to live while finishing their secondary degrees. Once graduated from secondary school, these young men were then automatically eligible to continue on to university level.

Most of these students were the first ones in their families to have the opportunity to finish high school. At this time university education for local indigenous people was almost unheard of. By 1982 the Casa Indígena program had grown to 150 borders through the generosity of benefactors from throughout the world. The scholarship recipients integrated into the already existing secondary school program at nearby Colegio De La Salle. By 1982 several had already gone on to complete university studies.

We seven brothers typically ate lunch calmly together at 1:30 p.m. before getting ready for afternoon and/or evening teaching and other duties. This particular day, however, turned out to be anything but typical. Everildo, one of the three Guatemalan brothers, mentioned that Señor García (not his real name) wanted to speak with one of us in his home as soon as possible. Señor Garcia’s own son was a Brother teaching in the opposite end of Guatemala. Since Everildo was free that afternoon, he volunteered to represent us. Señor García was about to retire from the Border Patrol and was very concerned about us. His office was on the local army base. Consequently, he gave us very reliable information.

At dinnertime that same evening, we were stunned to hear the distressing message Everildo received from Señor García. Members of the G-2 (death squad) were looking for the “sub-director” of De La Salle. Why? We asked ourselves. Immediately after dinner, we continued the conversation in the community living room.

Of all the endless meetings I have ever attended, this one without a doubt turned out to be the most memorable, prayerful and fraternal. There were no “hidden agendas.” We were sincerely concerned for the well-being of each other. The basic confusion centered on trying to answer the question of who was being targeted. Three of us had the title of “sub-director” (James for the Casa Indígena; Gustavo and I for Colegio De La Salle). Which one of us was it? And why?

On Sunday January 30, recently arrived student Epifaneo (fictitious name) from the Casa Indígena was spending some free time in the local market in front of the “Casa.” Unbeknown to him oftentimes the army “recruited” indigenous youth, in particular, during Sunday market days. Soldiers would simply approach a young male and kidnap him. The soldiers grabbed him from behind and lifted him into a truck destined for the nearby army base. In theory, students were exempt from the military.

In such situations, I would go to the army base with legal documents indicating that the “inductee” was officially enrolled as a student at Colegio De La Salle. Sometimes the student was let free immediately. At other times, though, the young men were detained until the “dust settled” and the documents were validated. When Epifaneo was not released, I returned to the army base between January 30th and February 8th not only once but twice more asking for his release. In other words, I became very present to the military authorities at this time. As a result, the community consensus was that it was I who was being talked about by members of the G-2.

At any rate, during this very important meeting we each had the opportunity to discuss if we:

1. wanted to remain at Colegio De La Salle – Huehuetenango;
2. preferred to move to a school in another part of Guatemala;
3. wanted to leave the country.

Everyone took time to reflect before saying that individually and collectively we wanted to stay in Huehuetenango for as long as possible. This turned out to be a very prayerful decision.

For security purposes, Señor García told us to:

1. remain inside for the time being and
2. if need be make sure that we were accompanied by someone.

At the end of this very tense meeting, James approached me and said: “What are you going to do about it”?

Spontaneously I answered that I know what I am NOT going to do and that is return to the army base. The head of the Christian Children’s Fund for Guatemala was coming to a meeting in Huehuetenango the following day at the “Casa.” Would she use her “influence” to get Epifaneo released? Yes. Eventually he returned to his studies.

Saturday morning February 13, James let me know that he would be accompanying a group of students on a picnic to celebrate the “día de cariño” or friendship day, which was the following day on Sunday. We Brothers were in constant communication with each other in light of the February 10th community meeting.

Later that day James planned to repair a wall outside the Casa Indígena. In addition to teaching and helping to direct the farming program in the afternoons for the indigenous students at the Casa, “Hermano Santiago” generously volunteered to take care of the endless maintenance of the Casa Indígena, which was a former Catholic school damaged in the ’76 earthquake.

Saturday afternoon February 13, I was at the Brothers’ residence next to Colegio De La Salle when all of a sudden there was pounding on the door. It was “Miguel,” a student from the Casa Indígena, who breathlessly told me that Hermano Santiago (Brother James) had been killed. NO. This simply is not possible was my first reaction. I erroneously thought that Miguel did not know what he was talking about. Maybe Hermano Santiago was shot but certainly not killed.

Immediately I jumped onto a bicycle and raced the one seemingly endless kilometer to the Casa. It was broad daylight about 4:15 p.m. one block from the cathedral on a crowded shopping street. When I arrived, Jim was lying still on the pavement with several bullet casings around him. A local police officer was present and would not allow me to touch him. However, I managed to pick up the cap that he had been wearing and ran my finger around the inside perimeter. It was still full of sweat as if he were still alive. Initially I was too stunned to move but after about 30 minutes, I knew that I had to attempt to make funeral arrangements in my role as president of the small group of 15 Brothers throughout Guatemala. The law in Guatemala was that the deceased had to be buried within 24 hours. Frantically I tried to contact major superiors in the USA. Finally, Brother James’s provincial, Brother Cyril Litecky, providentially answered the phone. There was incredulity and shock like I have never experienced.

Unfortunately, Señor García’s information was accurate. The decision to stay that we made at the community meeting on Wednesday turned out to be a tragic choice. In retrospect, we now know we were being watched. When I got a brief opportunity to speak with Bishop Martínez of Huehuetenango on Sunday after Brother James’s funeral Mass, he seemed to think that the rumors were about sub-director Brother Gustavo – a prolific writer and eloquent advocate for promoting human rights. Gustavo’s own blood brother had been disappeared several months previously and never located.

Since Mr. Miller, James’s father, was on dialysis, the family wanted Jim’s body returned to Ellis, Wisconsin near Stevens Point. His grave is in a cemetery at the base of the Miller Family dairy farm in Ellis. Brother James was one of over 200,000 innocent victims in Guatemala’s civil war that was triggered in 1954 when the USA overthrew a democratically elected government.

In a 1981 Christmas letter to his cousin Jane Campbell, James wrote:
“The level of personal violence is reaching appalling proportions (murders, tortures, kidnappings, threats, etc.) and the Catholic Church is being persecuted because of its option for the poor and oppressed. God knows why he continues to call me to Guatemala when some friends and relatives encourage me to pull out for comfort and safety. I have been a De La Salle Christian Brother for nearly 20 years now, and my commitment to my vocation grows steadily in the context of my work in Central America. I pray to God for the grace and strength to serve Him faithfully by my presence among the poor and oppressed of Guatemala. I place my life in His providence; I place my trust in Him…”

In the late 17th century Saint John Baptist De La Salle, founder of the Brothers, wrote that “Your zeal must go so far that in order to achieve it, you are ready to give your very life, so dear are the children entrusted to you.” Saint La Salle was a visionary who foresaw what could happen and does happen to anyone like Brother James who is reaching out to the children of the working class.

In his eulogy, Bishop William Freking (Diocese of La Crosse, Wisconsin) said that:

“I see in Brother James’s death the witness of Christ’s love, a witness to the dignity of the human person, and the right to freedom and justice that should be all of ours. … Today we need to take a stand on these rights, especially of the poor. Thank God there are people like Brother James to do that.”

In closing, I think that it is appropriate to recall the eloquent insight and challenge, too, of Archbishop Roach, who in 1982 as President of the USA Bishops’ Conference said that Brother James “took young people from the hills that had no chance and gave them a combination of hope and life.” Today, may we also imitate Brother James Miller (Hermano Santiago) by giving the neediest in our midst “hope and life.”

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