BLUE ASH, Ohio — Will is wearing a Ford T-shirt, and the letters embroidered across his chest make up an American Flag.
Yet as he stands across the street from an immigration facility, he’s unsure how to feel about those colors. Because even though his dad has lived here more than four decades, longer than he’s lived anywhere else, Will doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be allowed to stay in the country.
It’s why he came with him to a supervision visit at this ICE facility in Blue Ash.
“It’s a lot on us. It’s a lot of weight on you — to have to do this,” Will said. “We’re always on the edge of, is he going or is he staying?”
WATCH: Hear from a local family about deportation fears
Will agreed to speak to me, in part, because he worries he might be saying goodbye. Because this is the same kind of visit that ended with 19-year-old Emerson Colindres’ deportation.
Colindres is the soccer player whose family says they fled gang activity to come to America more than a decade ago. In 2023, their asylum case was denied and a removal order was issued.
On Wednesday, Colindres FaceTimed his mom from Honduras after two weeks in custody.
In December, ICE data showed 187,544 people enrolled in alternatives to detention. Those are things like regular check-ins and ankle monitors. Things that sometimes mean regular visits, like the one Will is making. Because his dad received a green card, but he never became a U.S. citizen.
He lost permanent residence after a criminal conviction more than two decades ago. He says he’s been living in limbo ever since.
“A lot of people follow the rules, but some people don’t,” said Chanthan Jenny Pil. “Because it’s very complicated.”
Pil came to Blue Ash to support the family. She's a U.S. citizen, but once sought asylum from Cambodia.
“I had a rough life,” Pil said. “Poor in this country is rich in Cambodia.”
Now, she tries to help other people like her. Because Pil says most Americans don't understand what it actually means to be deported.
“They are not going to give you land,” Pil said. “They aren't going to give you a home. You are going to die.”
She pauses and repeats herself.
“Die.”
Those are the stakes she felt as Will’s dad walked into the ICE facility.
“I couldn't sleep,” Pill said. “I was walking back and forth — up and down, up and down, up and down. I was like, is he gonna come out?”
And then he did.
Inside,his attorney said officials checked paperwork and told him to report back in a year. There were tears. And relief. But the family doesn’t feel safe.
They don’t know if they will.
