Last summer, armed and masked immigration agents swept through Los Angeles, detaining and deporting parents, spouses, and friends. A year later, families are still grappling with the emotional and administrative fallout. Three families share their stories of loss, resilience, and the ongoing fight to reunite.
Noémi's Husband Deported to Mexico: A Family Torn Apart
Noémi’s husband, Jesús, was arrested at Westchester Hand Wash, where he had worked for a decade. He was detained in El Paso and deported to Kiní, Mexico, leaving behind Noémi and their four children: Dhelainy (16), Esther (15), Angel (11), and Gabriel (6). Despite being the husband and father of US citizens, Jesús signed away his right to remain in the US under pressure and without his glasses. The family now communicates via daily phone calls, but Noémi describes the future as “all just a blank.”
The children miss their father deeply. Dhelainy walks the dogs alone now, while Angel trains without his dad. Gabriel, six, wonders why his father cannot attend his kindergarten graduation. Noémi has filed a petition for Jesús to get a green card, but processing could take six years or more. She searches for a lawyer to expedite their reunion.
Christopher's Uncle with Disabilities Vanished in ICE Custody
Christopher’s uncle Daniel, who has significant mental and intellectual disabilities, was arrested near his home in east Los Angeles. Neighbors witnessed the arrest and called the family. Christopher, a US citizen, navigated the immigration system to find his uncle, tracing him to the Adelanto detention center. Days later, Daniel disappeared from the system. After frantic searching, volunteers in Tijuana located him in a hospital—he had no idea his family was looking for him. It took over nine months for lawyers to secure Daniel’s parole back to the US. Christopher now lives with lingering fear and anxiety, but feels more prepared to fight for change.
Mario, Arrested at a Carwash: From Breadwinner to Burden
Mario, a father of three, was arrested at a carwash in Santa Ana on August 19. He spent six nights in a freezing holding cell, which he calls the “ice box,” and two months at Adelanto, where he fell ill. Released on October 24 after a habeas corpus petition, he now checks in with ICE via a mobile app and cannot work while awaiting a deportation hearing on July 27. His son pays his rent and food. Mario, once the proud breadwinner, now feels like a burden. His wife Alejandra recalls him refusing to leave the house, barely eating or showering. “Just because we have been released doesn’t mean we are free,” Mario says.
These stories highlight the lasting scars of the ICE raids, as families navigate paperwork, trauma, and an uncertain future. According to Christopher, “It’s really now just on the most confident and the bravest of us to get in front of the right people to push for real change.”
