
ICE secretly deported Pennsylvania grandfather, 82, after he lost his Green Card
Relatives last saw Luis Leon, who lives in Allentown, Pennsylvania, on June 20, when he and his wife visited the Philadelphia immigration office to replace his lost green card, The Morning Call first reported.
There, officers handcuffed him and took him away without explanation, relatives told the outlet. His family was left scrambling, contacting immigration offices, hospitals and even a morgue for more information on Leon's whereabouts.
Then, on July 9, Leon's wife received a call that seemed to confirm the family's worst fears; the caller claimed the 82-year-old had died.
Thankfully, this week, his family members learned that Leon had been moved from a detention facility in Minnesota to Guatemala. He's now in a hospital in Guatemala City, the outlet reported. The Independent has reached out to ICE for more information.
It's not immediately clear why he was sent to Guatemala. But last month, the Supreme Court left the door open for the Trump administration to deport immigrants to countries they have never called home.
'I can see all my family is in pain right now,' his granddaughter Nataly told The Morning Call. She's planning to fly to Guatemala to see her grandfather, who suffers from diabetes, high blood pressure and other conditions.
She told the outlet she hopes to amplify Leon's experience to show how he was treated by the immigration system.
If the multi-location ordeal wasn't enough, the unknown caller contacted the family another time. Days after immigration authorities arrested Leon, a woman claiming to be an immigration attorney called Leon's wife and claimed she could help get Leon out on bail. However, she didn't mention how she learned about the case or where he was at the time.
Leon was granted political asylum in 1987 after surviving Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet's regime, the outlet reported. He has a clean record — and hasn't even been given so much as a parking ticket, the family claimed.
He's not alone, figures from the data distribution organization Transactional Records Access Clearinghouse show. As of this week, there are more than 56,800 people in ICE detention; 72 percent of them have no criminal convictions.

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The Independent
4 hours ago
- The Independent
Release of Scot held in India ‘at top of agenda' for UK Government, says Murray
The release of a Scot detained in India for years is 'right at the top of the agenda' for the UK Government, the Scottish Secretary has said. Jagtar Singh Johal, a Sikh activist from Dumbarton near Glasgow, was arrested while in India for his wedding in 2017, and has been held ever since – despite having been cleared of one of the cases against him earlier this year. But he still faces charges at a federal level, which his supporters – who claim an initial confession he made was as a result of torture – fear could take years to come to a conclusion. Ahead of a meeting between Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer and his Indian counterpart Narendra Modi on Thursday to sign a new trade deal between the two countries, Mr Johal's brother Gurpreet suggested it is a 'golden' chance to secure his release. Speaking on BBC Radio Scotland on Thursday, Scottish Secretary Ian Murray said the issue is 'complex' but the UK Government is working to resolve it. 'The Government are doing all we possibly can to get this resolved,' he said. 'There was a recent meeting, just at the start of June, between the Foreign Secretary and his counterpart in India to try and get these issues resolved. 'So it's right at the top of the agenda and we can assure and re-assure that we're doing everything we possibly can to get these issues resolved as quickly as possible.' Speaking earlier on the same programme, Gurpreet Singh Johal – a serving Labour councillor in West Dunbartonshire – said: 'Raising the case is not enough, it's what we've been saying since day one. 'There's a golden opportunity here for the Prime Minister now, prior to the deal being signed or as the deal is being signed, that he strongly calls for Jagtar to be returned to his family so he can continue his married life.' Mr Murray added: 'The call is for these issues to be resolved and we're all fully on the same page in terms of having to get them resolved as quickly as possible.'


The Guardian
4 hours ago
- The Guardian
I don't identify with my country's values anymore. Is this ‘citizenship insecurity'?
It starts with a quiz from a law firm: did your grandparents leave before or after 1951? Do you have their passports or marriage certificate? If I answer correctly, I will get another email from a lawyer who specializes in citizenship claims. If I do not, my file may be quietly marked as a long shot. The stakes are high: if successful, I could ultimately obtain an EU citizenship for myself and then perhaps for other members of my family. Like many other Americans, I began this process in a moment of disillusionment. Since the 2024 election, I have been living with what I have come to call 'citizenship insecurity', a new category of instability that millions of us are now grappling with. It is the unsettling sense that a US passport, once a symbol of safety and mobility, is no longer something we identify with. I am not living in fear of Ice raids; I am privileged enough to be a US citizen. I am not applying for another passport out of immediate danger or fear. Instead, it is about estrangement: I no longer recognize my country's values. Since the US's inception, Americans have told ourselves a story about who we are and what we represent. We knew we were not perfect, but we thought America at least pretended to try to stand up for democracy and human rights. Much of that story has been tossed aside in the last decade, along with the dismantlement of our social contracts. 'Citizenship insecurity' captures the depth of that unraveling, not necessarily imminent danger but no longer recognizing America, or trusting its values. 'My anxiety is through the roof right now, but I think it would be worse if I were not a citizen,' says Juan M Hincapie-Castillo, a researcher at the University of North Carolina and a recently naturalized American who first came to this country as an international student. He is experiencing citizenship insecurity to the max. 'I am still brown, queer, and have an accent. I have tattoos that I cover every time I travel and go through TSA,' he says. 'I keep hearing stories of legal residents and citizens being detained.' The instability Hincapie-Castillo experiences is a more targeted and virulent form than what I am experiencing. Right now, just being queer or brown – or even simply having tattoos, given the outsized role those have played in the recent roundups of alleged immigrant gang members – can seem to make a person more vulnerable to being singled out. Just this month, Hincapie-Castillo's medical research on pain management treatments was defunded by the Trump administration. He studies trigeminal neuralgia, a facial nerve condition that is so cruel it is sometimes referred to as a 'suicide disease'. His work had been funded for five years by the National Institute of Dental and Craniofacial Research (NIDCR), but the grant was terminated after only one year. The stated reason for termination: a new NIH policy declaring that research programs connected to diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) are 'antithetical to scientific inquiry'. (Some demographics' pain no longer counts to those in power, apparently.) Indeed, this is another part of citizenship insecurity today: the economic pressures on scholars as federal funding has been haphazardly cut in the sciences and other disciplines. A number of these academics are internationally born, which adds an additional layer of uncertainty. 'The fear is always there,' he says of his current life. 'I carry my US passport now everywhere I go, just in case.' Of course, the woes of American citizens experiencing insecurity like Hincapie-Castillo do not even compare to the threat against non-citizens: it is as if many of us are nesting dolls of uncertainty. By 1 June, 51,302 people were in Ice detention. As of 13 July , the number had ticked up to 56,816. The Ice site has not shared numbers for deportations in 2025 publicly yet. The current head of Ice apparently told an Arizona Mirror reporter that our deportation system needs to be more like 'Amazon Prime, but with human beings'. He meant that as a good thing. And yet, the fear American citizens who are in far less outright peril also feel is still real. Recently, Donald Trump threatened to withdraw the actor Rosie O'Donnell's citizenship. Petulant as his threat was, it nonetheless showed that the president would like to denaturalize even native-born people who he reviles. The threat to birthright citizenship speaks to that same issue. Citizenship insecurity is about grappling with what it means to be American when so many of our supposed ideals have vanished – not just from policy, but from political discourse itself. This is not the first time Americans have lived alongside wars or policies they did not support. For decades, many of us have witnessed enormous political endeavors we did not approve of, from the war in Iraq to the war in Vietnam. This included the 'forever wars', which were attacks on much we valued about our country, all at once, but it also included phenomena that presage and accompany those wars: torture, military occupation and Islamophobia at home. As a journalist focused on income inequality and economic insecurity, I did not buy into the 'American dream' mythos. Editing big stories about economic inequality in this country day in, day out, I have been shown over and over that the notion of pulling yourself by your bootstraps is a fantasy. I have interviewed people who did everything 'right' – saving money, pursuing higher education, working 40 hours a week – and still live from paycheck to paycheck, unable to buy a home or to even recognize a clear life trajectory. Nonetheless, a small part of myself held on to an idea of America as a beacon of sorts, as it had been for my immigrant grandparents. My grandfather left a town that has been controlled by different countries in eastern Europe for the US in 1929, returned to marry my grandmother, and together they came back again in the early 1930s. But most of our family did not make it out. They died there: Jews caught in a hideous historical fulcrum, crushed by the machinery of genocide and occupation. As a result, my grandparents loathed talking about the past and what happened there, preferring to pass it over in silence. What would they think of the choice that I and others were hoping to make now? America had offered them a chance to own their own store and for their children to go to college; my mother even made it to the Ivy League on scholarship. It was not a country I ever wanted to have an opportunity to leave or thought I or my family might need one. That has changed – for me and others. Nadia Kaneva, for example, is a media and communications professor at the University of Denver who has spent years studying how nations brand themselves. Born in Bulgaria and only recently naturalized as an American, Kaneva is feeling citizenship insecurity in real time. As a scholar, she has long understood how a country that is no longer desirable to emigrate to affects and is affected by foreign investment, tourism and brain drain. In the US, symbolic security has started to erode and other countries are jumping on the opportunities. A few European universities, for instance, have announced programs to recruit American researchers to Europe, especially if they are, say, public health scholars or environmental studies specialists or sociologists concentrating on gender. Kazim Ali, a co-founder of Nightboat Books and the author of the book Resident Alien, feels that the challenge to his and others' identities as Americans is 'existential as well as direct'. He emigrated here with his parents, who were Muslims born in India ('So India doesn't feel like home, either, at the moment,' he says). Would he ever consider leaving? To this, he quotes the Uruguayan poet Cristina Peri Rossi, who once said of her condition of exile and return: 'I don't want to trade one nostalgia for another.' It is not only longtime citizens who are rethinking what it means to be American. Even those newly eligible for citizenship – people who once looked forward to formally pledging allegiance – are now pausing. Those people 'have told me they are now torn', says Michele Wucker, a risk governance expert who also has written extensively about citizenship. 'The actions of this administration do not align with the country they thought we were. And now they question the logic of becoming a citizen out of fear of how Maga believes we should treat non-citizens.' Of course, some argue that seeking out the insurance of a second passport or planning to escape to a university job in another country is weak-hearted – that we must stay and fight for the democracy we want to live in. Others decry running away as unpatriotic, as when scholars of authoritarianism at Yale – Timothy Snyder, Jason Stanley and Marci Shore – announced publicly that they were moving to Canada for academic positions. In response, the scholar Siva Vaidhyanathan wrote that we should seek ballast from the writer James Baldwin's 'unromantic patriotism' in these times and 'stay, fight, and to urge others to as well.' I see his and other writers' point: given my own relatively privileged position, I would never leave this country unless I really felt I had to. I interviewed a Jewish faith leader who is originally from Israel, has an American passport but is also in the middle of obtaining her Portuguese citizenship (she is Sephardic, meaning her ancestors are from the Iberian peninsula). She wants to remain anonymous in part to protect her child, who is transgender, and expanding her options for citizenship feels more urgent than ever. She is also applying, she says, because the current American political situation plays 'into centuries-old insecurity of the Jewish people'. For her, citizenship insecurity has been compounded by what she calls 'the state of violence of the country [Israel] I come from'. The sense of instability is not confined to one place – it echoes across borders. It is not just about mobility or paperwork – it is about protection, about having somewhere for her child to go if things get worse. Melissa Aronczyk, a media studies professor at Rutgers University and author of Branding the Nation: the Global Business of National Identity, comes from Canada. She has been thinking of returning home 'incessantly' since January. 'There is a cabal of Canadians in the US where that's a central topic right now,' she says. In conversations in a Facebook group for her fellow expats living in the US, trying to get their kids into Canadian universities has become a far more insistent theme as of late. 'Canadian American parents getting their kids to apply to Canadian rather than American universities was once a tuition move,' says Aronczyk. Now, she says it's also political as well. Aronczyk, like many of the people I spoke to, is quick to acknowledge her relative privilege. We know we are lucky, even, in being able to consider second citizenships. But that is precisely the point: when even the relatively economically secure feel as if the ground shifts beneath them, it signals just how deep and wide this instability runs. As an expert on national branding, Aronczyk notes that the US's image has sharply deteriorated in the past six months. Since the start of Trump's second administration, global perceptions of America 'have gone negative, by almost every measure'. A national brand is defined as much by people with American passports as people watching our country from the outside: students, tourists and investors, she points out. In June, I started my regular correspondence with a law firm representing people seeking European citizenship. Each time I wrote and heard back from them, I recalled my beloved grandfather. In one old photo, he wore his cavalry uniform, adorned with sparking buttons. I remember that handsome expression from my childhood in the 1970s when he was already an old man, still attractive and bewildered. Whether that was due to his feeling caught in the gears of history or not it was hard to say. What I do know was he was eager to be the sort of American who took his kids to movie palaces and had college money tucked away for their grandchildren, no matter that he and grandma worked six days a week in a shoe store to be able to do so. In his old age, he got to watch Star Trek with his feet up as the two ate strawberry ice-cream. Occasionally, once retired, my grandmother would even attend outdoor classical concerts and free Shakespeare plays with her friends. This, to them, was the American dream. It still strikes me as uncanny, to even be considering giving myself and my family the possibility to go elsewhere if the worst happens here. After all, this country was my grandparents' refuge. But I imagine they would understand, and even approve. They knew all too well the cost of having the wrong citizenship at the wrong time.


The Guardian
8 hours ago
- The Guardian
How Trump has supercharged the immigration crackdown
In the six months since Donald Trump took office, the US president has supercharged the country's immigration enforcement apparatus – pushing immigration officials to arrest a record number of people in June. A Guardian analysis of arrest and deportation data has revealed that Trump is now overseeing a sweeping mass arrest and incarceration scheme. The US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (Ice) agency does not publish daily arrest, detention and deportation data. But a team of lawyers and academics from the Deportation Data Project used a Freedom of Information Act lawsuit to obtain a dataset that provides the most detailed picture yet of the US immigration enforcement and detention system under Trump. A Guardian analysis of the dataset found: In June this year, average daily arrests were up 268% compared with June 2024. Ice is increasingly targeting any and all unauthorized immigrants, including people who have no criminal records. Despite Trump's claims that his administration is seeking out the 'worst of the worst', the majority of people being arrested by Ice now have no criminal convictions. Detention facilities have been increasingly overcrowded, and the US system is over capacity by more than 13,500 people. The number of deportations, however, has fluctuated as the administration pursues new strategies and policies to swiftly expel people from the US. The US government has deported more than 8,100 people to countries that are not their home country. Within weeks of Trump's inauguration, Ice tripled its number of daily arrests. Daily arrests spiked further after a heated meeting on 21 May, when Stephen Miller, the White House deputy chief of staff, and Kristi Noem, the Department of Homeland Security secretary, ordered Ice officials to aim for 3,000 arrests a day, or a million a year. In early June, Ice arrests peaked at about 1,000 a day – far short of Miller's benchmark, but 42% higher than the average daily arrests in May and 268% higher than in June 2024. On 4 June, Ice arrested nearly 2,000 people – the highest number of people arrested in a single day, according to nearly 10 years of arrest records. For the first time since Ice started releasing detailed data, the number of non-criminal arrests overtook the number of arrests of people with criminal convictions or pending charges. That month, during large-scale raids in Los Angeles, armed federal agents acting on Miller's explicit instructions began detaining immigrant workers at car washes, at garment factories and outside Home Depot stores. Agents with armored vehicles and military-style gear descended upon public parks; masked agents grabbed street vendors and restaurant workers. Although Trump has repeatedly claimed his administration is trying to arrest and deport 'dangerous criminals' and the 'worst of the worst', most of the people Ice is now arresting have never been convicted of a crime. In early July, a federal judge granted a temporary restraining order against the government's aggressive immigration sweeps in LA, barring federal agents from stopping people in the region unless there is 'reasonable suspicion' that a person is violating immigration law. The ruling came in response to a lawsuit, filed by immigrant advocacy groups, that accused immigration officials of racially profiling residents. Ice arrests are up across the country and have more than doubled in 38 states. Most of the arrests have occurred in Texas, Florida and California – each of which have large immigrant populations. Arrests have especially ramped up in the southern and western states that have eagerly backed Trump's immigration agenda, volunteering state resources and law enforcement personnel to work with federal officials seeking to detain immigrants. As the Trump administration ramps up immigration arrests, Ice detention facilities are becoming increasingly overcrowded. The average number of people held in Ice detention jumped from 40,000 right before Trump's inauguration, to about 55,000 in late June. Congress, however, last allocated funding for only about 41,500 detainee beds. In legal filings following the LA raids, immigrants who were arrested said they were held in federal buildings without adequate access to water, food and medications. Family members and lawyers struggled to locate and contact people in Ice custody. After a visit to the Adelanto detention center in California's high desert in June, the US representative Judy Chu wrote that detainees were being held in filthy, 'inhumane' conditions and had not been provided a change in underwear for 10 days. Across the US, immigrants in detention have reported overcrowded conditions and moldy and inadequate food. Human rights experts have also raised concerns about the detention of children with their parents at the newly recommissioned 'family detention centers' in Texas – warning that even short periods of incarceration can have major mental health and developmental consequences in young people. Families, too, have said there is a lack of fresh, drinkable water and child-friendly food in these facilities. The immigrant rights group Raices said that one of the families it represents had a nine-month-old baby who lost more than 8lbs while in detention. The president's omnibus spending bill, which was signed into law this month, has allocated $45bn to expand Ice's sprawling detention system – roughly doubling the agency's capacity to detain people over the next several years. The agency is concurrently changing policies to make it easier to detain more people and for longer periods of time. In a recent memo, Ice's acting director Todd Lyons, declared that immigrants fighting deportation in court will no longer be eligible for bond hearings – meaning that millions would have to remain in detention for months or years while their cases are processed. Despite deploying federal agents across the US to arrest more immigrants and despite incarcerating a record number of immigrants in detention facilities, the Trump administration has not managed to dramatically ramp up the scale of deportations. That's in part because during the Biden administration, most expulsions occurred at the US southern border – where Customs and Border Protection turned back immigrants seeking to enter the US. Since taking office, Trump has closed the southern border to tens of thousands of people who had been waiting to cross into the US legally and apply for asylum. The number of immigrant apprehensions at the border have dropped by more than 50% since January. Instead, the administration has refocused intensely on arresting and deporting immigrants within the US – many of whom have been living in the country for years, and have legitimate claims to fight deportation. This shift has meant that even as arrests and detentions have surged, the number of deportations has fluctuated under the second Trump administration. But the administration is still vying to keep its promise of mass deportations and, since Trump taking office, has deported more than 127,000 people. To speed up the removal of those people, the administration has deployed a number of policy changes – including a campaign to arrest people at immigration courthouses so they can be swiftly deported. Across the US, federal prosecutors have abruptly asked judges to dismiss immigration cases – levying a legal maneuver that allows Ice agents waiting outside courtrooms to arrest immigrants and immediately place them in deportation proceedings without hearings. In a recent class-action lawsuit, a coalition of advocacy groups have argued that the scheme violates federal immigration laws and the US constitution. Over the past six months, Mexico alone has received more than 63,000 deportees from the US. Central and South American countries have also received tens of thousands of deportees. The Trump administration has terminated temporary humanitarian relief for immigrants from Honduras, El Salvador and Venezuela; those countries have each received nearly 22,000 deportees since late January. The administration has also been seeking to make deals with countries around the globe to accept immigrants that the US cannot easily deport to their home countries, ramping up so-called 'third-country' deportations. In late June, the US supreme court cleared the way for the administration to send immigrants to countries where they have no connection, without a meaningful opportunity to contest the deportations on grounds that they could face torture. The administration has sent more than 200 Venezuelan nationals to El Salvador, where they remain incarcerated in the country's most notorious mega-prison. It has also sent families from Russia to Costa Rica, and men from various countries to South Sudan and Eswatini – two countries in the midst of political upheaval and human rights crises.