The lights never dimmed and the angel Mingla Palacios couldn’t fall asleep. He pulled it on his head like a pile of aluminum foil, but couldn’t adapt to lying on the concrete floor, and then used his tennis shoes as pillows.
He could smell his unwashed body in a narrow room shared with 40 detainees. He listened as a man, many of whom were arrested in car washes or outdoor warehouses, crying for loved ones at night.
Minguela, 48, lies in the chilly cold Los Angeles, known as B 18, and thinks of his eight-year partner and three children. Over the past 10 years in the United States, he built a safe life he only dreamed of, trapped in their modest one-bedroom rental house, with the Christmas family photo being his “#1 dad” figurine. Now everything is broken.
On the morning of August 14, Minguela sent strawberries to Little Tokyo’s tea room during her last delivery of the day. He didn’t know that Gov. Gavin Newsom held a press conference there to oppose President Trump’s efforts to sustain the U.S. House of Representatives through a re-division in Texas. Agents from the U.S. Border Patrol shine nearby and create a force outside the event.
When they moved in, an agent narrowed down Minguela’s delivery van. Soon, he was arrested for his overdue tourist visa, wearing handcuffs. As his lawyer said, Minguela became “political, collateral damage.”
During his six days in B 18 (Temporary Immigration Processing Centre), Minguela watched several detainees choose to deceive themselves rather than be detained.
The markings of the building are painted on the walls of immigration and customs enforcement facilities, called “B 18”.
(Carlin Stiehl/Los Angeles Times)
transparentNo Aguanto Aqui,” the man would say. “I can’t bring it here. ”
Minguela said the harsh conditions felt intentional. He knew he needed to stay for his family. But he wondered if he would do that.
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Minguela fled Mexico in 2015, partly suffering from the violence he faced.
He said he had been kidnapped twice and had been stabbed by people who were planning to steal cash. After the employer laid off his job, he lost his job and helped push the decision to leave.
Minguela came to Texas with a tourist visa and was attracted by job opportunities and many Spanish speakers on the same day. He had little money, rented a room while looking for a job, and soon found a job in the downtown agricultural product market.
He met the woman he called him Esposa, He asked not to be named for fear of revenge, in his second job in Piñata district. They were not married, but Minguela helped raise two children and later autistic son. The children – 15, 12 and 6 – all called him dad.
With Minguela there, his Esposa Said she never feels lonely. He helped with laundry and cleaning. He played Roblox with his neutron and helped his 15-year-old daughter with homework, especially math.
“He always wants us to keep track of it,” his daughter said. “He always wants us the best.”
The photos capture their lives built in Los Angeles by the San Pedro family. Celebrate Father’s Day and Birthday with cakes and balloons. A day of death celebrations on Olvera Street in downtown.
Angel Minguela Palacios and his eight-year partner and 6-year-old son.
(Carlin Stiehl/Los Angeles Times)
When the immigration raids began in June, their lives suddenly shrank. Minguela rarely goes out and only leaves the house for work and errands. If she heard rumors about immigration officials near high school, his daughter would warn him so he wouldn’t risk picking her up.
Minguela plans to make his keys ahead of time and leave them to her family in case he is caught by immigrant agents. But he never thought it would happen to him.
On August 14, his alarm rang at 1:15 a.m., like doing it almost every day. He drank the coffee his wife took him to the produce market and worked in that company for eight years.
Minguela helped take orders from strawberries, raspberries and blueberries, then headed to around 8 a.m. for delivery, he had about six hits, and then he called it every day.
His partner called to warn him that she saw the ice officer on social media in one of his delivery venues. He said he had just gone there and was lucky enough to miss them.
He was relieved that the little Tokyo tea room was his last stop. It didn’t open until 11 a.m. and he arrived 10 minutes later. He found a parking space in front and started unloading strawberries and a box of apples.
Minguela was adjusting the wooden pallet in the van when she heard the knock on the door. He turned to look at the Border Patrol and he began to ask him about his legal status. Minguela did not answer, saying he pulled out a red “Know Your Rights” card from his wallet and handed it over to the broker.
Angel Minguela Palacios looked at his identity outside the National Museum in Japan on August 14, and saw the photo as a federal agent.
(Angel Rodrigo Minguela Palacios)
The agent told him that it was “useless” and handed it back to it. Minguela said as she held her wallet, the agent asked for his license. Minguela said that after running the information, the agent handcuffed him.
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In B 18, the light is never turned off. Regardless of the time, officials would take the detainees out of the room for an interview, which made it difficult to sleep continuously. The temperature was too cold and family members fell off their loved ones’ sweaters and jackets.
The detainee was sleeping on thin, shiny emergency blankets. He describes them as “aluminum plates.” He said that as the days passed, even those people encountered new detainees. The bathroom is open air and has no privacy. The detainee did not take a shower for several days.
He said the conditions were interested. A form of “pressure to get people to sign away”.
“Any claim that there is a secondary condition in the Ice Detention Center is wrong,” a Department of Homeland Security official had previously told the Times.
Minguela closed her eyes and saw the face of her family. He wants to know his Esposa It will let them float alone. He wanted to believe it was just a nightmare he woke up soon.
He replays the morning events over and over in his mind. What if he arrived in Tokyo five minutes ago? Five minutes later?
“Those days were the hardest,” Minra said. “I cried on the first day on the floor. It’s okay for your man, it’s okay for your age. There, the man cried.”
These people talk to each other and are most worried about their wives and children. They shared where they took them from. Minguela estimates that about 80% of the people he detained were detained on car washes and Home Depot. Others were arrested while leaving the court hearing.
Minguela said he was asked once the next day if he wanted to deceive himself. He said no. But he watched several others give up and sign and leave. Minguela hopes he can be taken to a nearby detention center Adelanto. He heard that getting bonds in Texas or Arizona can be difficult.
On the sixth day, around 4 a.m., Minguela and over 20 others were pulled out of the room and tied up. He just learned that he was going to Arizona after he was talking to the two defenders.
“It’s like the world falling on me,” Minguela said.
The 25 detainees were loaded onto a white bus and spent about 10 hours on the road before reaching a detention center near Casa Grande. When Minguela first saw it, in the desert where the temperature reached 110 degrees, he was scared. It looks like a prison.
“Ay Caray, Adonde nos trajeron,” he thought. Wow, where did they bring us?
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Minguela has about 50 people on its wings. His cell companion, an African immigrant, has been fighting his asylum case for five months in hopes of being in Seattle with his family.
Minguela has had the first time to read books since she was a young man, including Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s “No One Writing to the Colonel”. He read the Bible and felt comfort in Psalm 91, a prayer of trust and protection. He took online courses on CPR, computer skills, and how to handle emotions.
But all the interference has not changed the fact that the detainees are imprisoned, he said.
“lo que mata es el encouragerroMinguela said. “What killed you is imprisonment.”
Angel Minguela Palacios spent more than a month in immigration detention.
(Carlin Stiehl/Los Angeles Times)
Minguela said nearly everyone arrived with the goal of fighting their case. Some detainees stayed there for one year to obtain asylum, others were eight months old. Despite work permits, some people were arrested. Other immigration lawyers who have never attended a court hearing have deprived others of thousands of dollars. Many people decide to deceive themselves.
If he was not awarded Bond, Minguela told his partner that he was worried that he might do it in a moment of despair.
Minguela lies in a dark cell, reflecting on his moments when he gets home, tired from work and traffic, and scolds his children about the little mess. At about time, he argued with his wife and gave her a silent treatment. He promised God to be a better husband and father. He asked God to help his lawyer case and gave him a fair judge.
Minguela held a bond hearing on September 9.
Minguela’s attorney Alex Galvez introduced the judge to the child of his client. He noted that Minguela had no criminal record and was employed, which was the main breadwinner of his family. Galvez submitted 16 letters of recommendation to his clients.
Angel Minguela Palacios tied up his 6-year-old son.
(Carlin Stiehl/Los Angeles Times)
Galves said the judge seemed suspicious when government lawyers called Minguela a flight risk, noting that he had been paying tens of thousands of dollars in taxes over the past decade.
The judge awarded $1,500 in bonds. Minguela’s agricultural products company employer paid it. On the evening of September 17, when Minguela was evacuated from the cell, other detainees expressed appreciation.
“Bravo,” they shouted. “Echale Ganas.” Give all your strength.
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A group of people sat down on the Greyhound bus at Union Station in downtown Los Angeles on Thursday night and waited to say hello. His partner and their three children were wearing black shirts that read “Welcome home.”
Minguela’s employer Martha Franco, her son Carlos Franco and her nephew held the “Welcome Defender” balloons and flowers.
“He’s coming,” the children cried, and when Mingla found the waiting crowd, the bus groaned at 9:35 pm, and he laughed. His youngest son was looking forward to jumping up and down as he took off the bus.
“Estas Contento,” Minguela asked the boy. “Are you happy? ”
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He hugged him Esposa Tightly, kiss her on her cheeks, forehead and lips.
Minguela knew his release was just a step in the journey. His attorney plans to apply for his removal and hopes to ensure he gets a work permit. Minguela said he hopes other immigrants know “there is hope rather than despair.”
“Have confidence,” Akino said.
Minguela grabbed her face in surprise when she came home after 10 p.m. when she was greeted by more than a hundred red, gold and black balloons. The signs wrapped around the living room read “God loves you” and “Welcome home We miss you so much.”
His partner decorated and bought everything to make the ceviche and the Albanians celebrate his return. But she didn’t have time to cook that day. Instead, she bought him one of his favorites in his adoptive home.
One round of double burgers and fries.
