72 Hours: One Family’s Fight Against Deportation

Angela was at the park with her children on a Monday afternoon when her phone rang. It was July 14th. Her husband’s voice came through: “Me llegó el ICE.” (“ICE got me.”) In that moment, everything changed.

Angela didn’t freeze. She couldn’t. She rushed home and immediately started calling: family, friends, anyone who could help. She needed documents: marriage certificates, birth certificates, anything that could prove their life together. As she gathered papers with shaking hands, she was already planning her next move. This wasn’t just about understanding what had happened; it was about fighting for her family.

By the time Angela reached the detention site, her husband was already gone. The car (registered in her name) sat empty.

She later learned about the arrest through video footage, and in an act of both defiance and community care, she posted it on TikTok. She wasn’t looking for sympathy. She was seeking answers and wanted to help others who might face the same nightmare.

When the System Moves Faster Than Hope

What Angela didn’t know on that day was just how quickly everything would fall apart.

She was told to expect a call from a government-appointed attorney. She was told she would be able to see her husband. But when she arrived at the office, it had already closed; earlier than she’d been informed. When an attorney finally did reach out, the news wasn’t reassuring. There was mention of a $3,000 fee just to get basic questions answered. Nothing about the process made sense.

Then came the explanation that changed everything.

Angela’s husband had an outstanding deportation order from 2018. He had missed a court hearing—not because he chose to avoid it, but because he was never notified. The immigration system’s complex and often inaccessible processes had left him in the dark, unaware that a hearing had even been scheduled. And now, years later, that missed court date had become the legal justification for tearing apart the family they had built together.

By Tuesday, Angela discovered her husband was no longer at the detention center. He had been moved that same afternoon. Just three days after that phone call at the park, he was in Guatemala. In between were stops in Arizona: a blur of facilities and processing centers, offering no time, no information, and no chance to say goodbye.

Seventy-two hours. That’s all it took to separate a family by thousands of miles.

Survival in the Aftermath

Today, Angela’s husband is with his mother and sisters in Guatemala. He works in the fields, picking corn. He has support there, but it’s not the same as being home. It’s not the same as being with his children.

Angela still has nightmares. The trauma of those days lingers in ways that are hard to articulate. But she refuses to be defined by what was done to her family. She is focused, grateful, and determined—three qualities she named as essential to moving forward.

“Focus…Being focused on what you really want…If you stay focused, you can achieve anything.”

She is not alone in this fight. Organizations like MAF and Faith in Action have stepped in to provide financial and legal support. In a recent survey of 1,200 families impacted by immigration enforcement, the most critical needs are legal information and support, financial assistance for basic expenses, and emotional support. All of which Angela has sought out and continues to navigate.

“ALMA is super beneficial. It has helped me a lot. [It] made me feel like a very important person,” Angela shared. ALMA was designed specifically for people enduring these tough times. Through ALMA, Angela received direct cash assistance to help cover immediate expenses during this crisis—money that gave her breathing room to focus on the legal fight ahead rather than worrying about putting food on the table or keeping the lights on.

But the program didn’t just provide resources: it recognized her dignity and agency. The support came without judgment, without barriers, and with the recognition that she was already doing everything she could. It reminded her that trying, even when the odds feel impossible, is never a waste. The program operates on the principle that families like Angela’s don’t need saving—they need solidarity and the tools to keep fighting for themselves.

Why She Shares Her Story

Angela could have stayed silent. Many people do, out of fear or exhaustion or the belief that no one will listen. But Angela believes in the power of empathy.

“Well, more and more people have to know. They have to feel for that person. Empathy, right? It’s like having empathy. So that’s why I like to share,” she explained.

The more people know, the more they feel for those going through these experiences, the harder it becomes to look away.

When Angela shares her story, something happens in her body. She feels it: a weight, a release, a sense of purpose.

“When you share your story, more and more, well, you kind of feel a great effort in your body, right?” It’s not easy. But it’s necessary.

Her message to others facing similar challenges is simple but profound: “I will tell them, I am with you. You will always face tests in life, but look, they are temporary. So you have to keep your head high always and be happy and expect more hope because more can come.” Life will always throw tests your way, but they are temporary. Keep your head high. Stay hopeful. More can come.

What This Means for All of Us

Angela’s story is not an outlier. It is one of thousands: families separated by a system that moves with mechanical efficiency and little regard for the human lives it disrupts. But her story also reveals something else: the resilience of people who refuse to be broken, and the power of community when it shows up.

Organizations like MAF exist because stories like Angela’s are far too common. They exist to stand with families, not as saviors, but as partners: offering tools, resources, and most importantly, recognition of people’s inherent dignity and strength. Angela didn’t need to be rescued. She needed support to continue the fight she was already waging.

A parent being ripped away from their children in 72 hours should never happen to anyone. But until the system changes, stories like Angela’s will continue. And so will the resistance.

Angela is still fighting. She’s working with attorneys, gathering documents, and building the case to bring her husband home. She’s raising her children, managing nightmares, and showing up every day with focus and gratitude. She’s sharing her story so that others know they’re not alone, and so that people who have never faced deportation might finally understand what it means.

This is what courage looks like. Not the absence of fear, but the refusal to let fear have the final word.

Join the Movement

If Angela’s story moved you, don’t let that feeling fade. Share it. Talk about it. Let it change how you think about immigration, family separation, and the people in your community who are fighting battles you may never see.

Learn more about how ALMA supports immigrant families navigating impossible systems. And if you’re in a position to give—whether that’s time, resources, or simply your attention—now is the time.

Donate to the ALMA Fund today and ensure that when the next phone call comes, a family doesn’t face it alone. Because, as Angela reminds us, more hope can come. But only if we create the conditions for it together.