He fled Cuba's regime and married a Quebecer. Then ICE took him

Montreal Gazette

3 days ago

It was supposed to be the start of a new life. Instead, Yosniel Alginis Villalon Lopez was put into the back of a van and taken to an ICE detention facility.
The 34-year-old Cuban ex-judge who refused to bow to the Communist regime had just pulled up to Quebec's Lacolle border crossing. His wife, Stéphanie Penta, a Quebecer, was waiting on the other side.
The newly wedded couple brought what they thought would be enough: a marriage certificate, criminal record checks, family photographs, and even joint bank statements. But Yosniel was denied entry.
He is now being held at the ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) detention centre in Buffalo, New York. Not only has his future in Canada been jeopardized, he also faces deportation to Cuba. If returned, he said he risks prosecution for treason.
His case, immigration experts say, is part of a growing wave of failed crossings at the Canada–U.S. land border.
Asylum seekers who arrive in the U.S. before reaching Canada are usually turned back. That's because the Safe Third Country Agreement (STCA) requires they seek asylum in the first safe country they arrive in – in this case, the U.S.
Exceptions exist, such as being married to a Canadian. But lawyers say even those pathways have become harder to use.
For this story, The Gazette reviewed legal documents and interviewed Yosniel's wife, his lawyer, immigration experts, and Yosniel himself, who spoke from inside ICE detention via a monitored phone call.
Defied Cuba's Communist Party
It begins in Havana, Cuba. Before he was an immigration detainee, Yosniel was a judge at Havana's People's Provincial Court. He said he had originally wanted to be a lawyer but was encouraged to become a judge because, as a young person, he could better understand and represent the interests of youth in court.
Not long after his appointment, he said Communist Party of Cuba officials came calling, asking him to join. He refused.
Then, in July 2021, protests erupted across Cuba. Thousands took to the streets against the regime as anger over food shortages and the response to COVID-19 spilled over.
When the accused were brought before him, Yosniel said he refused to convict them. The charges didn't reflect the crimes.
That didn't go unnoticed. He was accused of treason and threatened with criminal prosecution. State agents also began intimidating him, he said.
He went into hiding before fleeing the country in early 2022 through South and Central America. Once at the U.S. border, he filed an asylum claim and settled in Miami, Florida. He lived there while waiting for a decision.
He also received a work permit. By day, he said he worked multiple jobs, the latest managing beer inventory. At night, he cleaned a courthouse.
A romance sparked on Instagram
Back in Quebec, Stéphanie, 36, was raising two daughters in Otterburn Park, aged eight and 11, from a previous decade-long marriage.
In October 2024, she had just started running her own massage practice when Yosniel liked a few of her photos on Instagram. She had come up as a suggested follower as the pair shared mutual friends from Cuba.
Stéphanie thought they may have known each other but couldn't remember.
'I was curious. Why was he liking my pictures?'
They began chatting. Within days, they were spending hours every day messaging and video-calling.
'I'd never connected like that before. It was easy,' Stéphanie said.
In December, Stéphanie flew to Miami to meet Yosniel for the first time in-person. She had planned to stay with mutual friends and meet up with him. In the end, they spent every day together.
She returned to Miami in January. And February. And every month after.
The couple decided to have an impromptu courthouse marriage in May 2025 in Miami.
'It was a beautiful, spontaneous decision,' Stéphanie later wrote in her affidavit. 'I am not a big wedding person and neither is he, but it felt right for us to take this step to announce that this relationship is forever.'
At the end of June, Stéphanie took her daughters to New York so they could meet Yosniel for the first time and spend time together as a family. Previously, the children had spoken to Yosniel on the phone.
'Yosniel had spoken about the needs of my children from the start,' Stéphanie said. 'We wanted to build a future together, but I said it was important that he meet my daughters first before we start living under one roof.'
The trip, she said, was 'wonderful,' and her kids loved Yosniel.
After consulting a Montreal immigration lawyer, they were told Yosniel could come to Canada, as he qualified under the family exception to the STCA.
Delays, confusion, and doubt at border
On July 2, the couple headed to the crossing in Lacolle, Quebec, one of Canada's busiest land borders.
Stéphanie approached from the Canadian side, having left her daughters with their father, while Yosniel arrived from the U.S., carrying his crucial documents, including a marriage certificate, criminal background checks, and joint bank statements, among other papers.
Stéphanie said she approached the agents after arriving and tried to explain that her husband coming from the U.S.
'One of them told me, 'There's no point being here, wait in your car,'' she recalled.
When she got to her car, her phone rang. It was Yosniel.
'They're moving me,' he said. 'I don't know what's happening.'
Yosniel told her they had transferred him to a different, busier building and suggested she go home as it might take a long time.
'Seeking responses to justify his initial perception'
The next day, on July 3, Yosniel was called in for his CBSA interview.
He asked to speak in Spanish, his first language. A phone interpreter was provided, but he said the translation was poor and had to correct it several times. He was worried the officer wasn't fully understanding him.
He said the interview focused on three things: his relationship with Stéphanie, his personal history and U.S. asylum claim, and whether their marriage was genuine. He showed the officer a photo of himself with Stéphanie and her daughters in New York.
'He didn't even look,' Yosniel said.
'The officer said that Stéphanie and I got married so I could immigrate to Canada,' he said. 'I tried to explain that we got married because we were in love.'
They had considered having Stéphanie move to the U.S., he said, but it would have disrupted her daughters' lives and her business.
When asked about their immigration legal consultation, Yosniel said it took place on June 3 — after the wedding — and showed a video call log on his phone. The officer didn't look at it, he said.
That same day, CBSA officers called Stéphanie, who was back at her home, for a phone interview. It last five minutes twenty seconds.
Among other questions, she was asked about the consultation with their immigration lawyer. She said it had taken place in 'the last week of May or the first week of June.'
Later, Yosniel said a supervising officer delivered the decision. She reviewed the interview notes and signed off on the conclusions.
According to Yosniel, when she said the consultation with the immigration lawyer took place in May, Yosniel corrected her — it was June 3, he said. But the officer pushed back, replying that Stéphanie had said May. He tried to show the proof on his phone. The officer, he said, told him it didn't matter.
The officer told him he couldn't enter Canada for a year without a visa or special permit. He had 15 days to appeal, but the officer, Yosniel said, advised not to as it would be expensive. Then he was put in a van and handed over to U.S. authorities.
Yosniel said that no officer at CBSA doubted the authenticity of his marriage certificate or any of the other documents he presented at the border.
'The officer who interviewed me was just seeking responses to justify his initial perception of me,' Yosniel later wrote in his affidavit. 'When I tried to show evidence that would address his concerns, he paid no attention to it because they were not useful for his conclusions.'
'It's not paradise here.'
On the other side, Stéphanie still didn't know what had happened. But a mutual friend with Yosniel's GPS location noticed his position had changed.
'I don't want to alarm you,' the friend told her, 'but he's in the U.S.'
Yosniel was eventually allowed a brief call late at night. He used it to tell Stéphanie what had happened.
It was 'completely devastating.' Thankfully, she said, her daughters were with their father and didn't see her break down.
Yosniel was taken to the Batavia ICE detention centre near Buffalo, a facility that has been reported on for overcrowding.
He said he sleeps in a dormitory-style room with roughly 100 others. Meals are served three times a day. The air conditioning works.
'Some cry every night. Some don't speak,' he said. 'It's not paradise here.'
But he added that officers have treated him decently so far.
Yosniel also has time each day to make phone calls. Every call, including to Stéphanie and The Gazette, is monitored by agents.
Unexpected help from ICE
Stéphanie started calling lawyers to begin appealing the decision.
'I contacted 70 lawyers,' she said, but only a handful responded.
To file an appeal, Stéphanie needed the documents the CBSA gave Yosniel. But she said the agency wasn't responding, despite multiple attempts.
So she tried something else. While on the phone with her husband, she asked if an ICE officer was nearby and whether he might scan the documents. To her surprise, the officer agreed. He sent scanned Yosniel's documents and sent them from his own email account.
'He told me not to reply,' Stéphanie said.
The next day, the officer followed up with Yosniel to make sure she had received them.
Appealed but deportation looms
At the Canada border, Yosniel was denied entry under subsection 41 of the Immigration and Refugee Protection Act, a clause used when someone lacks the proper visa.
In a statement to The Gazette, the CBSA did not comment on Yosniel's specific case due to privacy reasons.
They said, however, that Cuban nationals must have a visa to enter Canada, even by land, and arriving without one can trigger refusal.
Yosniel was not deemed ineligible under subsection 101(1)(e), which is the clause that bars claims under the STCA.
Heather Neufeld, an immigration lawyer in Ottawa, who has been represented a number of similar cases, said that it's normal for border officials to say an individual doesn't have the correct visa when they don't believe the marriage is real.
'It's just standard language,' she said. 'I've never seen them make a misrepresentation finding at the border when they deny someone's family exception.'
In its statement, the CBSA said: 'Being married to a Canadian citizen does not in itself give foreign nationals the right to enter Canada.'
The agency said officers must be convinced the relationship is genuine and that the person meets entry requirements. They are also expected to act 'in a procedurally fair manner,' including reviewing documents and using 'accredited' interpreters when needed.
In a separate statement, the office of Lena Diab, Canada's Immigration Minister, also declined to comment on Yosniel's case over privacy.
It defended the STCA as 'an important tool' in managing asylum claims. While the agreement allows for family-based exceptions, the burden of proof 'rests on the asylum seeker.'
'When is he coming?'
Yosniel's Canadian lawyer, Hana Marku, who's leading his appeal, estimates it may take more than a year. Meanwhile, his U.S. deportation hearing is set for the end of August. If returned to Cuba, he said he faces treason charges.
Due to the time pressure, Marku is attempting to settle with the Canadian authorities, seeking a path for him to re-enter Canada and make his case again.
However, if Canada agrees, U.S. immigration must first release him. He would need to post bond, a payment allowing detainees to wait for hearings outside custody.
But even posting bond is getting harder. A new directive issued by the Trump administration in July has tightened release rules. Immigrants should be released on bond before their hearings only under 'rare' circumstances, the memo says.
Stéphanie, meanwhile, is running her massage therapy business, caring for her daughters, and scraping together funds for legal fees. She was also in the middle of moving apartments. Her husband was supposed to help.
She said her youngest daughter keeps asking: 'When is he coming?'
Stéphanie doesn't have the answer.
'It doesn't make sense,' she said. 'He didn't do anything wrong.'