Human Impact Project

Yasmani Noel Moreno de Armas, a 31-year-old Cuban who arrived in Florida by raft in 2016 under the 'Wet Foot, Dry Foot' policy and ran a small trucking business between Miami and Tampa to help support his parents near Orlando, was detained by ICE in West Palm Beach on May 11, 2025, after his green card bid under the Cuban Adjustment Act was denied. He was held for about a year before being deported in late July/August 2026 not to Cuba but to the Central African Republic on a roughly 21-22 hour shackled flight, learning his destination only hours into the trip. Moreno, who manages diabetes and asthma, said the flight left him ill and triggered an anxiety attack. He is now confined at the Maison Confort lodging in Bangui alongside migrants from Afghanistan, Vietnam and Russia, without a passport, visa or legal status, suffering stomach problems and allergies, and says he was kidnapped twice by armed men he believed were security forces, with family and a fellow detainee paying about $100 for his release. A Cuban embassy representative told him Cuba would not take him back because he left as a 'rafter' migrant, and he fears returning there given a past imprisonment for trying to flee. 'They brought us here illegally,' he said, adding his parents 'went crazy, crying and yelling' when he told them where he was; his attorney is negotiating with federal officials for his return.

Samuel Nnamdi, a 45-year-old pastor and father of five at a small church in Mesquite, Texas, was detained by ICE agents on July 6 while on his way to his job at UPS, still in his work uniform, where he had worked legally for five years with employment authorization and no criminal record. He was later deported to Ghana, a country he had never visited and has no ties to, despite a 2019 immigration judge ruling granting him withholding of removal protecting him from being sent back to his native Nigeria, where he said gunmen had threatened to kill him for preaching. His attorney, Julie Justice, said he was not given proper notice before being deported. His case has been described as part of a broader pattern of third-country deportations, in which the government removes people to nations with which they have no ties through diplomatic agreements with foreign governments. Nnamdi now lives in hiding in West Africa, separated from his wife and children, two of whom are U.S. citizens, connecting with them through video calls before school and on weekends.

Phone Chomsavanh, a Laotian citizen who was born in a refugee camp in Thailand and moved to the U.S. with his family at age 7, was released from Eswatini's maximum-security Matsapha Correctional Complex on Sunday after being held there for more than 14 months. He was deported to Eswatini in July 2025 under the Trump administration's third-country deportation program after already completing his U.S. prison sentence, one of five immigrants sent there at the time. His lawyer, Tin Thanh Nguyen, said he was given no notice, hearing, or chance to object before being flown to a country he had no ties to, saying, 'He had already served his time. Instead they put him on a plane without telling him where it was headed and left him in a prison in a country he had never heard of, where nobody ever accused him of anything.' Following his release, he traveled through Johannesburg en route to Laos. The third-country deportation program has sent about 500 immigrants to African nations that are not their countries of origin, with Eswatini receiving roughly 30 people under an agreement with the U.S. in exchange for $5.1 million in payments.

A 26-year-old refugee known only as Adam, who fled forced military conscription, was granted protection from removal by a US immigration judge but was secretly deported to Equatorial Guinea in November 2025 under a third-country removal deal. He has been confined alone in a hotel room under armed guard for nearly a year, and was recently handcuffed and beaten by security officers who warned him not to speak out.

Monica Ryadi, a 30-year-old nurse from Delaware County, Pennsylvania, was detained by ICE agents at Los Angeles International Airport on Sept. 15, 2026, as she arrived with her husband, Steven Sary, and their 3-year-old son for a Disneyland trip. Ryadi has lived legally in the U.S. since age 9, after fleeing religious persecution in Indonesia with her family, and was granted Withholding of Removal in 2010, which allows her to live and work in the country. Officers handcuffed and chained her and threatened to place her son in child protective services when her husband protested, according to court filings. Her attorney said she was never given a warrant or documentation explaining her arrest and that ICE indicated she could be deported to an undisclosed third country. After 15 days in custody at the Adelanto ICE Processing Center, a U.S. magistrate judge ordered her released with a GPS ankle monitor, and she was reunited with her husband and son that night.

An Iranian woman in her early 30s who fled Iran after converting to Christianity was detained by ICE and ultimately deported to the Central African Republic, a country she had never visited and that the U.S. government warns citizens to avoid due to violent crime and civil war. She entered the U.S. without authorization at the southern border in 2024 and had settled in Atlanta before being held at Stewart Detention Center in South Georgia. Speaking to the Atlanta Journal-Constitution after learning of the planned deportation, she said, "I just started shaking. I was just so scared. I don't have anyone (over) there. I don't know the language, or anything." She was deported only three days after her arrest, one of the few Iranian nationals removed since fighting between the U.S. and Iran began, as deportations of Iranians have otherwise nearly halted because Iran and other countries have been unwilling to issue travel documents.

Mamadou Fadel Cherif, 56, a West Oak Lane man who fled political persecution in Guinea after being jailed for protesting the 1998 presidential election, was arrested by ICE on July 13 as he left his home. Nearly 20 years earlier he had been granted Withholding of Removal, which bars his deportation to Guinea, and he has no criminal record. Cherif works legally as a dining services employee at La Salle College High School and as an Uber driver, and is the primary financial support for his wife, a green card holder, and their four American-born sons, one of whom is a Marines reservist. His employer described him as "an extremely hard worker" whom students and staff love. His attorney filed a federal court petition seeking his immediate release, arguing there is no likelihood of third-country deportation and that he was denied due process. As of September 2026, Cherif remains in detention while the Trump administration seeks to deport him to Ghana, a country to which he has no reported ties.

Antonio Frometa Ascón, a 63-year-old Cuban immigrant who came to the U.S. in 1994 after being paroled through Guantánamo, has been in ICE custody since Aug. 14, 2025, when Florida Highway Patrol stopped him on his way to work under the state's Operation Tidal Wave crackdown. He was first held at the South Florida Detention Facility, where he alleges a guard's blow left him partially deaf, then transferred to Camp East Montana in El Paso, where he witnessed a detainee's death, and later moved to the ICE El Paso Service Processing Center. Cuba has refused to accept his deportation, and he has refused removal to Mexico as a third country, citing fears of cartel violence and extortion. His first granddaughter was born while he has been detained, and he says he has not been able to meet or hold her. He has filed pro se and attorney-assisted habeas corpus petitions arguing his prolonged detention violates the Supreme Court's Zadvydas v. Davis limits on indefinite confinement, and a federal judge has yet to rule as his health and mental state decline and his family says he has grown depressed awaiting word from his lawyer.

Adwoa, a 21-year-old bisexual woman from Ghana, fled years of violence and ostracism after neighbors accused her family of witchcraft over her sexuality. Despite obtaining a US court guarantee that she would not be deported back to Ghana, she was instead sent to Cameroon earlier this year, where same-sex relations are illegal and punishable by up to five years in prison. She has been held at a government-run detention facility in Cameroon for several months, describing her situation as feeling like "a criminal" and fearing she could be killed if returned to Ghana.

Bryan Omar Sánchez, a Honduran man who had lived in Colorado for about a decade working as a gardener, truck driver, and pressure-washing business owner, was detained by ICE at his home on May 13 and moved through detention centers in Texas and Arizona. Despite a 2020 Convention Against Torture protection barring his return to Honduras and a pending asylum claim, he was placed on a nearly 22-hour flight to the Central African Republic on July 29 without his consent; one officer reportedly mocked him, asking 'Hey, Honduras, why are you going to Africa?' while Sánchez protested, 'Africa? I can't go to Africa.' Once in Bangui, he described being held in a shelter with restricted movement, facing language barriers and limited access to services, prompting Honduras' National Human Rights Commissioner (Conadeh) to demand urgent consular assistance and verification of his well-being. While detained, Sánchez represented himself in filings with Colorado's federal court, arguing he should not have been removed to a country he had never visited. U.S. District Judge Regina M. Rodríguez ruled that ICE violated his due process rights by giving him no notice or opportunity to challenge the removal, and ordered the government to return him to Colorado and release him without conditions such as GPS monitoring.

Fatou Traore, a 43-year-old University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics custodian born in Ivory Coast, was detained by ICE agents in unmarked vehicles on September 24 while leaving for work, witnessed by her son Esoumaila Diallo and sister Haby Diallo. ICE alleges Traore has a 2011 final removal order and admitted to using a fake birth certificate and passport to enter the country, but her son and attorneys dispute this, saying she never made such admissions and always asked for her lawyer when questioned. Her attorneys provided a 2011 order granting her withholding of removal from Ivory Coast and a valid employment authorization card good through March 2029. She is being held at Richwood Correctional Center in Monroe, Louisiana, and has been told she will be deported to Sierra Leone, a country she has never visited, despite a federal appeals court ruling blocking third-country deportations. Her attorneys have filed a motion to stay her removal. She left behind her husband, who works alongside her at the hospital, and four sons ages 3 to 19.

A Peruvian man identified in court filings as "John Doe," who has judicial protections against deportation to Peru, has been held in ICE custody in Massachusetts since July. After a federal appeals court struck down the Trump administration's third-country removal policy, a Department of Justice attorney argued the ruling wasn't yet in effect and sought to transfer Doe to another facility to put him on a flight to the Central African Republic. Doe's attorneys, including Mary Holper, obtained an emergency clarification from the appeals court reaffirming the policy was dissolved immediately, and a judge declined to lift the stay barring his removal, though he remains in detention. DHS General Counsel James Percival publicly maintained the policy remained in effect, and the Justice Department has since appealed the underlying ruling to the Supreme Court, while flight data showed ICE charter planes continued flying to African countries used for third-country removals after the court's order.

José Alejandro Aponte, a 65-year-old Cuban man deported from the United States to Villahermosa, Mexico, stayed briefly at the Amparito Shelter and now rents a small room in the city center. When Forbidden Stories spoke with him in spring 2026, he had just been refused residency in Mexico. "I tried to comply with every rule. Now I'm in immigration limbo. I have no papers to go anywhere," he said, adding that he fears losing contact with his family because phone companies now require numbers to be linked to a valid identity document.

Humberto García, a Cuban national deported to Mexico after living 35 years in the United States, tried to travel through the mountains near Tapachula to avoid migration checkpoints. He was approached by three armed attackers who robbed him and shot him twice in the torso; he stumbled for nearly an hour before reaching a road where authorities took him to a hospital. After three days recovering, with no organ damage from the bullets, he had no choice but to return to Tapachula, where he said he was left with nothing to eat and nowhere to sleep.

Lorenzo Sánchez, born in Guantánamo, Cuba, was studying to become a heavy-machinery mechanic when he fled Cuba by boat in the 1980 Mariel boatlift after saying Fidel Castro's government had targeted him for his political ideas. In the U.S. he learned English while working at a museum and school, earned certificates in cabinet making, blueprint reading, and technical drawing, and spent decades building a life in Florida. In June 2025, in his mid-60s, he was arrested for drinking a beer on a Florida beach; a records check turned up a 1991 deportation order and ICE took him to a Miami detention center, then to a hospital in El Paso while he was still recovering from diabetes-related amputation of the toes on his left foot. Told he would be sent to Cuba, he was instead taken across the border — "You're going to Mexico. Cuba doesn't want you," officials told him — and bused over three days from Piedras Negras to Villahermosa, Tabasco, a city he had never visited. After 150 days at the Amparito Shelter he was left on the streets for at least five months, struggling to find water, food, and medication. "Dogs live better than we do, and they eat every day," he said. He was eventually recognized as a refugee in Mexico and is settling into long-term shelter in Guanajuato.

Malick, a pseudonym for a Senegalese man who fled to the US in 2023, had a work permit and legal protection against deportation to his home country, but was placed on a third-country deportation flight to Ghana. He was held at a remote military camp with little electricity or communication, alongside Rabbiatu Kuyateh, a 58-year-old nurse who fled Sierra Leone's civil war and had lived in the Washington, D.C. area for 30 years. Kuyateh was detained by ICE during a routine check-in in July 2025, and despite a judge ruling she could not be deported to Sierra Leone due to past torture there, her attorney says the government pursued sending her to a third country without a hearing. She was flown to Ghana in shackles on a 10-hour flight, and Malick filmed her being forcibly dragged into a van by people believed to work for Ghana's government when she resisted being put on a bus to Sierra Leone. After the footage spread online, Ghanaian troops arrived at the camp at night with trucks of soldiers. Kuyateh's son, Mohamed Alghali, said he has not seen her since the July check-in.

Arsalan Saleh Fard (referred to as "Ali" in one account), a 25-year-old Christian convert from Qazvin Province, Iran, fled after being pursued by Iran's intelligence services and the Basij paramilitary force. He struggled to find work because of tattoos, and when a bank refused to hire him over them, he burned one off himself — only to then be rejected for appearing mentally unstable. After crossing the U.S. border to seek asylum, he was expelled to Panama on a military flight in January/February 2025 without an asylum hearing, as part of a group of 299 migrants deported there weeks after President Trump's inauguration. Eighteen months later, he remains stranded in Panama with no clear path to permanent refuge, at times sleeping on a mattress on the floor. Bella Mosselmans, a human rights lawyer who directs the Global Strategic Litigation Council and represents deportees sent to Panama, said such outcomes are an inevitable result of sending migrants to a country with a nonfunctioning asylum system, language barriers, and little access to legal counsel.

Nika, a 32-year-old Iranian woman who fled Iran after protesting the regime and losing friends in the government's crackdown, had been granted 'withholding of removal' by a US immigration judge to prevent her return to Iran. She was released from ICE custody on May 28, 2026, but days later was re-arrested during what officers called a routine check-in in California. She was handcuffed, shackled, and placed on a deportation flight with 17 other migrants to the Central African Republic, a country she said she had never heard of or visited. Since arriving in Bangui, she has largely stayed indoors out of fear, been stopped by local police demanding bribes, and was hospitalized after contracting malaria. Her immigration lawyer is now filing a federal lawsuit seeking to bring her back to the US and reopen her asylum claim.

A Senegalese woman deported to Ghana under a third-country removal arrangement was sent, along with other detainees, to a remote military camp with little electricity or outside contact after Ghanaian officials reacted angrily to viral video of another deportee being forcibly removed. Fearing she would be returned to Senegal, she attempted suicide by drinking bleach and was hospitalized before being deported back to Senegal anyway.

Gisèle, who fled fighting between the Democratic Republic of Congo and Rwanda, was deported by US authorities to Cameroon under a third-country removal agreement. Suffering from a thyroid condition, she was never able to obtain her medication at the Yaoundé migrant shelter despite repeated requests, and after five months there she abandoned plans to seek asylum in Cameroon and agreed to be sent back to the DR Congo out of concern her health would worsen.