Father Deported, Then Lost Forever
a familiar one. Deportations of foreign- born long-term residents are surging under the Trump administration, but as they reach into well- established immigrant communities far from the border, there is often little chance they will be permanent.
More than 15,700 people — nearly all of them men — were prosecuted in 2017 for trying to enter the United States again after being deported. Though illegal re- entry is a felony, immigrants with children, homes and spouses in the United States often feel they must try, whatever the risk.
More than 40 percent of new immigration cases brought by the Department of Homeland Security now involve people who have lived in the United States for two years or more, up from 6 percent at the end of 2016.
“Adrián was just one of us,” said Chad Harding, 44, a supervisor on the construction crew where Mr. Luna worked. “I know people say we have immigrants who are here illegally, they need to go, case closed. But Adrián supported his family, never made any trouble. What happened with him was wrong.”
Raising a family in this part of Idaho, Ms. Luna’s father, eager to fit wood. He rooted for the Seattle Marin, converted to Mormonism when iners baseball team and pored over she was growing up. He was among Craigslist for old car parts. the first Mexican immigrants to put For years, he and Ms. Luna had down stakes here in the 1970s. been making routine visits to the
After Ms. Luna’s father benefited Immigration and Customs Enforcefrom Ronald Reagan’s administrament office in Idaho Falls in an attion’s amnesty for millions of untempt to regularize his immigration documented immigrants, the family status. They had paid more than focused on living as real Americans, $10,000 to lawyers in this quest. she said. As the spouse of a United States
Adrián Luna had grown up in the citizen, Mr. Luna could have been state of Jalisco in western Mexico, entitled to permanent residency, but but having been in the United States complicating his case was the fact most of his life, his memories of that he had been deported in 1992, his birthplace were receding, supand had illegally entered the counplanted with new relationships and try again. At what they had expected responsibilities. He had been at a would be a routine appointment at quinceañera in nearby Idaho Falls, Immigration and Customs Enforceto which Ms. Luna had also been inment in August 2017, one of the offivited. She asked him to dance. They cials told Mr. Luna that his time was up.talkedinSpanish,andsoonthey were dating and dreaming of having He was jailed for weeks, then dea family together. ported. He stayed for months at a
“He was skinny, kind of shy,” she relative’s home in San Martín de Borecalled, “and I just fell for him imlaños in Jalisco, and began planning mediately.” how to rejoin his family.
They married in 2009 and she Mr. Luna made his way in March moved into his small trailer. His to the border with Arizona, where daughter from a previous relationhe tried crossing and was quickly ship, Emilie, now 17, lived with them, deported once again. Then in April and over the years, Ms. Luna gave he reached the city of Tijuana. From birth to four more children: Ebany, there, he contacted his siblings, some 9; Aiden, 7; Dylan, 5; and Jayce, 4. of whom have legally resided for de
Like many of his neighbors, he cades in Idaho and in California, and liked to hunt elk and cut his own fire- told them that he planned to cross the desert near San Diego with a group led by a smuggler.
Mystery shrouds what happened next. His brother, Rafael Luna, 50, who lives in Southern California, said he heard that the group had to leave Mr. Luna behind after he showed signs of severe dehydration and exhaustion.
This would not have been unusual: At least 412 migrants were found dead along the border in 2017, as increased security near established crossing points pushes immigrants into more remote territory.
Rafael Luna delivered the grim news to the family back in Idaho. He sent cellphone photos of Mr. Luna’s Mexican I.D. and a prayer card, belongings that had been found next to the body.
“I started crying really bad and fell to the floor when I found out about my Dad,” Emilie said. “But what could I do, stop my life?” she asked. “That’s not a luxury I have.”
For a while, the family held out hope that the remains belonged to someone else. The body was so decomposed that it was unrecognizable. Wasn’t it possible that Mr. Luna had lost his I.D. card and then somehow became lost himself?
Then one day in July, even those hopes were shattered. Ms. Luna received a call from the San Diego County Medical Examiner’s Office, which had conducted DNA testing on the remains. At a family gathering over cheeseburgers, she tearfully told everyone the news.
“It was like he died again today,” said Randy Lozano, 40, a sales estimator and Mr. Luna’s brother-in-law. It had been unnerving, he said, to discuss his family member’s deportation with neighbors and co-workers in Idaho who support the government’s crackdown on immigrants. “That’s where we are now. Just think on that.”