When Sun Wang went to court to seek protection from her estranged boyfriend, she feared for her life.

The Korean immigrant told a judge her ex-boyfriend had stepped on her head, trying to crush it.

She said he had hit her, kicked her, forced her to have sex, stalked her and threatened to kill her with a sashimi knife if he saw her with another man.

"He calls me every night and he sleeps at the parking lot of my apartment building," Wang wrote in her request for a protective order. "He watches and follows me wherever I go. I see him every morning watching my apartment from a near parking lot ... He refuses to accept the fact that our relationship is over."

In March 2004, authorities served Hwa Yong Park with an open-ended court order prohibiting any contact with Wang.

Less than two months later, the Kaka'ako nightclub worker was dead, a bullet to her head and neck. After Park fatally wounded her at the nightclub, he took his own life.

The murder reflects what has become a growing concern in Hawai'i's immigrant communities.

Female advocates and others say they are hearing about increasing numbers of domestic-violence incidents in those communities. What they are unsure of, though, is whether the abuse problem is getting worse or more people are speaking up because of a greater awareness about what can be done.

Still, for every woman like Wang who reports the abuse, far more are suffering in silence, afraid or unwilling to tell anyone.

Domestic violence, a crime predominantly committed by men against women, is vastly underreported in any community.

Victims don't contact authorities for a variety of reasons. They still may love their partner and believe he will change. They may want to keep their marriage intact for the sake of their children. They may rely on their abuser's paychecks for food and shelter. Or they simply may be too terrified to do anything.

Yet in Hawai'i's immigrant communities, which have grown substantially in recent years, many battered women face not only the general barriers to reporting but an additional one: The fear of deportation.

Abusers often use the threat of deportation, even if not credible, to try to keep their victims from speaking up. Wang's abuser threatened to report her to immigration authorities even though she was in the country legally.

Some women erroneously believe if they report abuse, they'll be deported.

"For immigrant groups, the fear of deportation really silences many women," said Cornelia Soberano, a social worker active in the Filipino community on Maui.

That fear can be exploited if the victim is new to the Islands, speaks little English, has no support network, is unfamiliar with her legal rights or available social services or is susceptible to pressure and manipulation for other reasons. And the abuser often is a U.S. citizen who sponsored the woman to come to America and typically uses his better understanding of the legal system against her.

"Immigrants in abuse situations are very, very vulnerable," said Calleen Ching, staff attorney at Na Loio, a nonprofit that provides legal services to immigrants. "Abusers are more likely to prey upon them because of their vulnerability."

To help address that vulnerability, Congress added protections in immigration law specifically for domestic-violence victims. The protections would allow the immigrant to legally stay in the country — even if the relationship with the abuser ends. But those protections don't kick in automatically; the immigrant has to pursue them.

If domestic abuse in immigrant communities locally is escalating, the greater number of immigrants likely is a contributing factor. Hawai'i has one of the fastest growing immigrant populations in the United States.

During the 1990s, the state's foreign-born population increased 30 percent, to 212,000, according to census data. Immigrants constitute nearly 18 percent of the state's population and 25 percent of O'ahu's.

No hard numbers, however, are available on the rate of domestic violence in the immigrant population.

But the anecdotal signs are worrisome.

Joe Bloom, program director of Catholic Charities Hawai'i's therapeutic services, said his agency has seen its immigrant domestic-violence cases increase as the number of clients using its immigration program have grown. Bloom believes immigrant abuse is the fastest-growing area of domestic violence in Hawai'i.

Advocates and researchers working with other immigrant communities, such as the Koreans and Micronesians, also are seeing more cases, especially as traditional conflict-resolution practices have eroded.

Denby Lee Toci, who manages a women's shelter in Hilo, said calls from Micronesian women who recently moved to Hawai'i have been gradually increasing, with some seeking shelter, some seeking only information. In their native islands, domestic violence tends to be tolerated, Toci said, so the women are pleased when they learn abuse is against the law in Hawai'i.

"They like coming here," she said. "They have more protections."

On one weekend in October, Toci's shelter was a safe haven for Silvia Kostka, formerly of Pohnpei, who had fled an abusive spouse on Maui. On that same weekend, Estrella Primo, who was Kostka's neighbor in Pohnpei, was injured after a relative hit her in the head with a chair during an argument at a family gathering. Medical personnel used eight staples to close Primo's wound.

In the Filipino population, advocates are alarmed because women of that ethnicity continue to make up a disproportionate percentage of Hawai'i's domestic-violence victims, despite years of trying to raise awareness.

Of the past 11 intimate-partner murder victims statewide, for instance, at least seven were Filipinos.

In one 2002-2004 state study looking at prevalence rates of intimate-partner violence among various ethnic groups, Native Hawaiians topped the victims' list, followed by Filipinos, whites, "others" and Japanese.

In another state study of nearly 200 domestic-violence offenders, 37 percent were Native Hawaiian, 20 percent white and 18 percent Filipino.

Recognizing the need to reach out to victims in a language they can understand, several nonprofits have embarked on programs aimed at specific ethnic groups.

Na Loio has domestic-violence brochures printed in 11 languages and recently started a Chinese family awareness project. The Domestic Violence Action Center has a Pilipina Rural Project aimed at raising awareness within the Filipino community.

The Family Peace Center and Valli Kalei Kanuha, a University of Hawai'i faculty member, are planning an offender-intervention program that focuses on traditional Native Hawaiian values and cultural practices. At Child & Family Service, its offender programs are offered in about half a dozen languages.

Understanding the cultural backdrop is important to understanding why many immigrants are reluctant to report abuse.

One common barrier is the notion that what happens in the family, stays in the family. Victims are reminded, subtly or explicitly, that airing ugly, private matters would bring shame to the family's name.

"They end up living in this secret, silent fear and an almost learned helplessness," said Helena Manzano, the action center's program manager who oversees the Pilipina Rural Project.

The project was started in 2002 partly because of concerns about Filipinas being overrepresented in intimate-partner murders.

The inability of immigrants to converse proficiently in English is another barrier. Although more services and brochures are offered in multiple languages, too little is available, including the service of interpreters.

"Language is a huge issue," said Na Loio's Ching.

In 2006, a Catholic Charities representative told legislators that it had documented cases of domestic-violence victims being committed to the state hospital or jail because they were unable to explain their plight to authorities. In some cases, the confined immigrants were not provided interpreters for several days.

Legislators responded by passing a bill expanding access to government services by non-English speakers.

Other barriers include religious beliefs that discourage divorces; fear of losing one's children; a distrust of the police and courts because those institutions were corrupt or protected only the powerful in their native countries; and the reliance by the abused on the abuser's paycheck for food and other essentials. If the woman's extended family is staying with the couple, she may not want to leave her husband because her family would have nowhere to go.

Some victims also said they tolerated violence because it was tolerated and minimized in their home country.

"Some of the people we talked to didn't even realize they were being abused," said Lois Magnussen, a UH nursing professor who has studied domestic violence in various ethnic groups. "They just thought that was the way it was."

For some battered women, the allure of finally being in the United States — a goal many waited years for — is too valuable to jeopardize because of some beatings. The abused woman also may feel an obligation to support the person responsible for her being in the U.S., even if he's beating her.

"Coming to America is the ultimate thing," said the action center's Manzano. "You sacrifice everything."

Another major concern is fear of retaliation, akin to what Wang experienced in the months before her murder. Abusers often threaten not just the victim but the victim's family.

Cristina Arias, a victim advocate at the action center, recalled the case of a woman who cooperated with prosecutors in pursuing criminal charges against her husband.

The prosecution so upset the husband that he told his wife her Philippines family could be in danger. Shortly after that, the husband's brother held a gun to the head of the wife's sister in the Philippines and warned, "Leave my brother alone," Arias said.

Several Filipina immigrants who invited The Advertiser to their monthly meeting of a domestic-violence support group told similarly chilling stories, all through tears. It was painful, they said, to talk about memories they have mostly tried to forget. The wounds were still fresh.

One woman said she was married to her high-school sweetheart for nearly 28 years, and he beat her throughout the relationship. Controlling, insecure and jealous, he wouldn't let her get a job, learn to drive or go to school. Three times, she left him. Three times, she went back "because of the kids."

She said her husband would regularly rape her. "If I said no, he would force himself on top of me, slap me, hit me, spit on me," she said, wiping away tears. "I just wanted to die. I didn't care."

The woman, who once tried to commit suicide, finally got a divorce in 2002. Since then, she has returned to school and learned to drive.

Another woman said she was married for 13 years to a drug addict who was violent and owned two guns. Half of those years were marked by violence, which got worse whenever he lost his job.

"When he was high on drugs, I felt safest because he was in such a stupor, he wouldn't hurt me," the woman said. "So I would give him money so he could feed his drug habit."

A third woman said her husband married her and then ar- ranged for her to come to Hawai'i only so, unbeknownst to her, she could take care of his disabled mother.

Although they all lived in the same house, she never was allowed to sleep with her husband, who instead brought a girlfriend into his bedroom regularly, the woman said.

Immediately after the mother died, the husband offered his wife $1,000 to sign divorce papers, she said.

"I didn't want to be deported or divorced because of the shame," she said. "Crying, I begged him not to seek a divorce. I loved him."

The husband responded by throwing all her clothes in the front yard, pushing her down the stairs and locking her out. He threatened to have her deported.

Eventually, the husband let her back in — only to ask if she would delay the divorce so she could have his girlfriend's fertilized egg implanted in her to deliver the baby, the woman said. He threatened to kill her if she told anyone about the surrogate mother plan. She refused to go through with the plan.

The couple divorced last year, and the woman is now a legal permanent resident in Hawai'i.

"I'm finally happy now," she said.