Marilú Paredes is 66 years old. She's Venezuelan, a grandmother, and has been married for more than 40 years. In the United States, she shows up for a mandatory check-in with Immigration and Customs Enforcement, ICE. She's complying with a government requirement. The officers arrest her. Shortly afterward, she's deported from Louisiana to Bangui, the capital of the Central African Republic, along with nine other women. A country she's never visited. She has no family there, and no one is waiting for her. Her daughter says she had protection against deportation that barred her removal to Venezuela. Washington chooses Africa instead. ICE keeps her passport. Marilú Paredes is stranded in a foreign country, with no one she knows and enormous difficulty even getting new travel documents. A mandatory immigration appointment turns into a journey thousands of miles away, and negotiations are proving difficult.
Her husband remains in the United States. He recently had his leg amputated above the knee. He's still recovering from the surgery. And now, of all times, he's without the woman he's shared his life with for more than 40 years. The agency can mark a deportation as a completed case. For the family, it marks the beginning of a situation no government statistic can adequately describe. A woman is stranded in Central Africa. Her husband is trying to regain his strength after a major amputation. Whether deporting her to a third country is compatible with her existing legal protections requires legal clarification. We're doing everything we can to help in this case, too. The legal situation is extraordinarily complicated, especially with deportations to third countries. The process runs through embassies, consulates, and attorneys on the ground. We've handled numerous cases like this in the past and have successfully secured returns as well. But these proceedings take time. The separation has already happened.
Other women deported from the United States are also in Bangui. Around 80 people arrived in the Central African Republic on October 24, most of them Cuban. That figure comes from the accounts of those affected and has not yet been independently confirmed. Five women describe appalling living conditions. They're living without adequate sanitation and fear disease. One woman says she doesn't speak the local language and has no documents that would allow her to receive money from relatives. Some didn't even learn which country they were being sent to until the deportation was underway. American authorities can fly people across the Atlantic between two continents without giving those on board a clear explanation of what awaits them.
One woman hadn't been able to bathe for two days. Another suffers from high blood pressure and anemia and hasn't received the medication she needs since being deported. The women describe mistreatment and inadequate medical care. Their desperation comes through in words no government official could have written: "It's as if we're already dead. We've arrived here, and now they're just going to dump us here." The exact number of deportees and all the allegations have not yet been conclusively verified independently. At the time of publication, the Department of Homeland Security had not responded to questions about the flight and the reported conditions. The women are still in Bangui, waiting for answers.
The United States is increasingly deporting people with final removal orders to countries they aren't from. Human rights organizations have documented allegations of mistreatment and arbitrary detention in these deportations. Flights still go directly to Cuba, but the Cuban government doesn't accept every deportee. Washington looks for other countries willing to take them. What these decisions mean for individual people only becomes clear afterward. Another border is crossed, an unfamiliar language begins, and their family's phone numbers suddenly become the last connection to the lives they once knew. The government has airplanes. The deportees first need a valid ID.
In California, America's deportation policy now has another death to answer for. On October 24, a 43-year-old man from Guatemala is found unresponsive in his cell at the Otay Mesa Detention Center near San Diego. The incident is discovered at 11:31 a.m. About 7 minutes later, medical personnel begin CPR. At 12:23 p.m., the man is pronounced dead. The facility is operated by CoreCivic, a private prison company. The man had been in immigration custody since his arrest on October 9. The cause of death remains unknown. Barely more than 2 weeks passed between his detention and his death.
ICE initially identifies the dead man as Roberto Jimenez Gutierrez. His family disputes that identification. A later examination by the medical examiner identifies him as Guillermo Pascual Verganza. Even the identity of the deceased becomes the subject of conflicting information. The agency points to different names he had used. His relatives also dispute the account of his past. The man can no longer respond to any of these allegations. His family wants to know what happened during his detention. All that remains, for now, of the government's duty to protect someone in its custody is an unexplained death and a contradictory file.
San Diego County Supervisors Terra Lawson-Remer and Paloma Aguirre are demanding full cooperation from the federal government and CoreCivic with investigators. All records concerning his detention and medical treatment must be preserved. San Diego County previously had to go to court just to secure its public health department's right to inspect the facility. During an inspection in June, essential vaccines were missing. Tuberculosis cases had not been reported promptly. One detainee had waited 18 months for a necessary replacement medical device. Officials are now demanding information about changes made since that inspection. Another person has died inside a facility whose doors opened to public health inspectors only after a court order.
In Arizona, Andreea Marin lies in the intensive care unit of a hospital in Mesa. The 38-year-old Romanian woman has been on life support since October 23. She has bipolar disorder. She previously taught English in France, earned a master's degree in education, and studied child development. Her brother remembers a woman who loved her work and was close to her family. Now she lies unconscious in a hospital. Her family is demanding a full investigation into her collapse at the Eloy Detention Center. We're currently working on this tragedy as well, alongside an immigration attorney and civil rights organizations.
Andreea Marin, 38, was hospitalized on October 23 after an apparent suicide attempt at the Eloy ICE detention facility in Arizona. Her family is demanding a thorough investigation and criticizing the inadequate psychiatric care. Marin loved animals and spent years traveling through Europe with her cat Thomas.
Marin was charged with allegedly assaulting a corrections officer during a mental health crisis in October 2025. She had not been convicted. Her parents were already trying to get her treatment at the time. After her condition stabilized, she returned to work in Tempe. On October 1, 2026, she missed a court hearing. The notice had been returned as undeliverable. A warrant was issued anyway. Weeks later, police pull Marin over for running a stop sign and arrest her on the outstanding warrant. A judge orders her release that same evening and reschedules her court hearing. When Marin leaves the police station, ICE is waiting.
Less than 2 weeks later, she's found unconscious in her cell. Detention center staff report a medical emergency. Emergency responders take her to a hospital. That's where her family learns about her hospitalization from medical personnel. Her relatives had repeatedly tried to make sure she received the treatment she needed. They were assured that the detention center's medical staff would provide her medication. After she is hospitalized, the transport personnel tell doctors about an apparent suicide attempt by hanging. What actually happened inside the cell remains unclear. Bipolar disorder doesn't disappear behind a locked cell door.
When Marin's mother visits her daughter in the hospital, she finds her unconscious, handcuffed to the bed by her wrists and ankles. Her mother collapses. Her brother describes his parents' anguish at the sight. An immigration officer tries to force him out of the hospital room and make him delete his recordings. We will not show those recordings here, however. Hospital staff defend his right to stay with his sister. CoreCivic confirms that an unconscious person was hospitalized and points to the emergency lifesaving measures immediately taken. The company emphasizes its commitment to protecting detainees. Democratic Senator Mark Kelly and Congresswoman Adelita Grijalva are demanding an independent investigation.
Ronny is also in ICE custody. He lives in the United States with his partner Lindsey and their daughter. The petition recognizing their family relationship has already been approved. The subsequent process to obtain a waiver of certain immigration-related grounds of inadmissibility is underway. Another decision is expected soon. Then comes the arrest. His family now has to fight for his release while trying to keep the immigration process moving forward. A path toward legal residency that was nearly complete turns into another separation. Lindsey and their daughter are left behind. The legal outcome remains uncertain, and we hope to bring this case to a successful conclusion quickly as well.
Since Donald Trump returned to the White House in January 2025, at least 60 people have died in immigration custody. About 70 percent of current detainees have no criminal conviction. Immigration detention is used to enforce immigration law; it is not a criminal prison sentence. Meanwhile, private prison companies are reporting rising revenue as the number of detainees grows. Reports of denied medical treatment and seriously ill detainees have accompanied this expansion. In Eloy, Cuban detainee Alexander Hernandez remains behind bars after surviving a suicide attempt. He describes excruciating back pain and being denied treatment. A pregnant woman, Maria Valero Brinez, fears for her unborn child at the same facility. She's experiencing bleeding during a high-risk pregnancy and struggling to get medical care.
In Bangui, a 66-year-old grandmother faces an uncertain future, separated from her husband. In San Diego, a family is demanding answers about a dead man whose name the authorities initially got wrong. Andreea Marin lies in a hospital, connected to life-support equipment. Ronny is missing from the lives of his partner and their daughter. The American government has the power to arrest people and remove them from the country. Its responsibility for their lives begins, at the latest, when it takes away their freedom. In Trump's America, deportations are counted, detention beds are added, and new contracts are signed. Meanwhile, in an Arizona hospital, a mother sits beside her unconscious daughter. She's waiting for someone to explain what happened to her.
To be continued ...
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