By Lorenzo Gomez/Cronkite Borderlands Project

Posted May 22, 2025

 

Standing in the back of a small bus with his head poking out of a window, Hayatullah said he felt happy. Being dumped in a dirt lot in a new city with no resources or clear next steps was some of the best news he’d received in months.

 

“I feel happy now, but still we are worried,” Hayatullah said.

 

Originally from Afghanistan, Hayatullah, along with other migrants interviewed for this story, asked to be identified by first name only. All fear reprisals from officials in their home countries.

Hundreds of people who have recently been deported from the U.S. to Panama are desperately searching for a way out of their predicament, which leaves them facing detention, desertion in a foreign third country or fatal persecution in their home nations.

 

After traveling thousands of miles to reach the U.S., around 300 of them awaited their fate, or at least the next harrowing experience, at a Panama City hotel in March. Despite fleeing political violence from countries including Iran, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Sri Lanka and Cameroon, apprehension at the U.S.-Mexico border put an end to their hopes for freedom in the United States.

Their situation is the result of President Donald Trump’s attempts to crack down on migration. U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement data shows a rise in ICE arrests nationwide and a decrease in arrests at the border, a signal that the flow of immigrants to the U.S. is rapidly decreasing. In March, arrests peaked at just over 27,100. Current trends suggest this number will continue to rise as the Trump administration expands its operations to detain and deport more immigrants living in the U.S.

 

Even after removing the top ICE official in February amid reported frustration over the pace of arrests, U.S. Department of Homeland Security officials have remained firm in their goal of surpassing the Biden administration’s arrest and deportation averages.

 

Although DHS data shows an increase in total immigration arrests during Trump’s first months in office, the data on deportations suggests something different. A report from TRAC Immigration analyzing the data shows little evidence that overall arrests and removals are higher under Trump.

 

In Trump’s first month as president, DHS data reported by Reuters showed 37,600 deportations, compared to a monthly average of 57,000 under the Biden administration. From Jan. 26 to March 8, TRAC Immigration also found that Trump’s daily removal rate was 10% behind Biden’s highest daily average.

By the end of April, the Trump administration had still not published the standard monthly data of detailed immigration enforcement encounters.

 

Meanwhile, countries like Panama are increasing their cooperation with the U.S. regarding immigration. In an interview with PBS, Panama Vice Minister of Foreign Affairs Carlos Ruiz-Hernandez affirmed his country’s willingness to be a stopover for immigrants removed from the U.S. However, the nearly 300 migrants first deported to Panama City are the first and only group deported from the U.S. to Panama this year.

 

Javier Carillo, former director of Panama’s migration authority, thinks the deportations south are meant to be a message to discourage people from migrating.

 

“I don’t know what level of conversations the government has had, but I think it’s a message more than anything,” he said. “Something symbolic.”

 

The message seems to be getting through. At the U.S.-Mexico border, encounters dropped to 11,709 in February — an 81% decline from the month prior. Luis Felipe Icaza, Panama’s deputy minister of public security, boasted that there had been a 99% decrease in crossings from Colombia to Panama — a goal first set last July in collaboration with the Biden administration.

 

Even though the number of deportations has yet to reach the same levels as the previous administration, Trump is implementing new ways to deport migrants, including to unfamiliar third countries. This can leave migrants in locations where they don’t speak the language and have no local contacts. For weeks, the migrants deported to Panama were detained in various jails and camps, sometimes chained, and given no information about their status.

 

Many of them expected procedural detention when crossing the border in San Diego and El Paso in February to legally seek asylum. They thought their stories of escaping violence and death would permit their stay in the U.S.

 

To their surprise, their stay lasted less than a week until they were deported by plane from San Diego to Panamá on February 12th.

 

As they waited for their impending placement at a detention camp near the treacherous Darién jungle between Panama and Colombia, the 299 deported migrants were held in the Decapolis Hotel in Panama City with limited access to the outside world for over a week. They held signs that read “Help Us,” illuminated by the dim lights of their hotel room turned jail cell. Gradually, the hotel emptied as buses shipped them off in waves.

 

After being held in strict detention in the Darién camp for three weeks, it was closed. They were then returned to Panama City on the night of March 8 and given temporary visas. The Panamanian government decreed that they have 90 days to decide where to go next and how to get there.

 

The government gave little explanation for closing the detention camp near the Darién jungle. At his press conference on March 13, Panamanian President José Raúl Mulino simply said, “It is no longer needed.”

 

Now stranded outside of Albrook Mall, the largest mall in Latin America, with the few belongings they had left, the migrants from around the world stood confused. All that awaited them was assistance from a handful of humanitarian workers, immigration lawyers and the flashing cameras of reporters.

 

Haytuallah – Afghanistan

 

Among the passengers in the first wave of buses from Darién was Hayatullah, 29. In 2022, he fled Afghanistan. He said he belongs to the ethnic minority Hazara in addition to being an atheist — two things that could warrant death if he returned. He said he feels that religion caused many problems in the world, recounting how the Taliban killed his father when he was young.

 

After attempting to first relocate to Pakistan, then Iran and then Latin America, he finally decided to seek asylum in the U.S. by crossing the border at Tijuana in February. He figured the detention was procedural. “I was very excited. I thought that I had the chance to [receive] my asylum … but no.”

 

He detailed his experience with ICE: “Many times I asked to speak with asylum officers, but they did not let me.” When he asked where he would be sent, Hayatullah was given a variety of responses. Some officers said Texas, some said they didn’t know, while others didn’t answer.

 

During his five days in San Diego, he said he and fellow detainees remained handcuffed in a single room, unable to go outside. After unknowingly signing a warrant of deportation written only in English, he was placed on a plane departing that night. He traveled with chains around his ankles and wrists as the plane headed to Panama.

 

He described the Darién detention camp as “terrible.” Small rooms were packed tight with dozens of other detainees. There was no air conditioning amid the dense jungle climate. Access to food was limited. Every bathroom break included guards. Open showers exposed him to strangers he just met.

 

“It was very bad,” he said.

 

Days blended together before the news hit that he and fellow migrants were being transported back to Panama City. Again, the group was uncertain of what was next.

 

They were taken to the Hotel Via España in Panama City. Outside the hotel, Hayatullah spoke of his experience going from devout Muslim to religious skeptic, enthralled by the evolutionary theories of Charles Darwin and Richard Dawkins. Much like the theories of evolution he was so fascinated with, his life over the past several months felt like survival of the fittest.

 

Despite his dire situation, he exuded charisma, walking up to fellow displaced travelers with a smile, shaking hands with reporters and showcasing his progress on Duolingo Spanish.

 

After over a month of consulting multiple embassies and searching for a new country to call home, Hayatullah remains in Panama, unsure of his future.

 

Aleks – Russia

 

Alongside Hayatullah was Aleks, 38. After criticizing the Russian government on social media, he said he was repeatedly threatened with imprisonment or given a choice to join the Russian military — neither option appealed to him.

 

Aleks believed his support for Ukraine and escape from political violence warranted his asylum claim to stay in the U.S. “I thought everything would be okay until I was inside the plane going to Panama,” he said.

 

Sitting inside the Hotel Via España, where he and fellow migrants stayed in the days following their arrival from Darién, he spoke very few words. He felt betrayed by the country that promised freedom and justice for all.

 

“I would not be a burden on the government,” he said. “I would work and pay my taxes. I want to contribute to the United States’ economy.”

 

Aleks’ goal is like many others’. Not only did he escape because he feared persecution, but he sought economic opportunity in the U.S. While facing cartel violence in Mexico, he insisted on entering the U.S. by using the CBP One app, which previously allowed a person to submit their information ahead of time and schedule an appointment to speak with an immigration official. However the Trump administration removed the scheduling function from the app after entering office.

 

“I would still like to visit. I don’t expect anything supernatural as it is an ordinary country, but people living there can fully realize themselves,” he said. “Human life and freedom come first.”

 

Aleks and the rest of the migrants became restless as days passed in the hotel, unsure of what was next. Every day was filled with curious reporters, scattered meals and cigarettes, and a hope for good news.

 

Like Hayatullah, Aleks remains in Panama. “There’s no more hope that they’ll help us get back to the U.S., so I’ll rely on myself,” he said.

 

Sathesh – Sri Lanka

 

For Sathesh, 36, good news has been hard to come by.

 

“Too many problems,” he said over and over in Tamil, the language of the ethnic minority group he belongs to in Sri Lanka.

 

He explained the years of political violence the Tamils have faced from the Sinhalese, the dominant ethnic group of Sri Lanka.

 

“We asked for our freedoms to speak our languages, to follow our religions and to live on our lands,” he said.

 

For privacy and security, Sathesh chose to use his late relative’s name as he recounted his tumultuous life in Sri Lanka. For years, war was waged between the Tamil Hindus and the Sinhalese Buddhists. Despite the war’s official end in 2009, many Tamils are displaced and alienated from Sri Lankan society.

 

He said his father was abducted during the ethnic cleansing of the Tamil, while his brother was taken by rebel forces at 17.

 

After his brother escaped and fled the country, Sathesh suffered the consequences. He described the horrific psychological and physical torture in Sri Lankan prisons: “It was unspeakable pain. I am a human being, and only God knows the hardships I have faced.”

 

Amid confessions of trauma, he stopped to show pictures of his family — a wife and two children. There were videos of them blowing out candles and selfies in their nicest outfits. A precious life filled with the moments that many people come to expect. A precious life that was short-lived.

 

Another run-in with political violence led him to be kidnapped and beaten, he said. Sathesh decided to sell everything and leave the life he had built. Although home is always the first choice, he felt there were no options left. “How can I live in such a country?” he asked.

 

He is thousands of miles from his family, constantly fearing for their safety in Sri Lanka. Every day feels like another piece of misfortune out of his control.

 

Sathesh thought the U.S. government’s condemnation of Sinahelese war crimes would permit his stay. Immigration authorities had other plans. Once believing in America’s “great democracy, human rights and personal freedom,” Sathesh felt betrayed.

 

Sathesh’s journey, like others, is still halted in Panama. “We are orphans in Panama now,” he said.

 

Anna – Iran

 

Among those “orphans” is 20-year-old Iranian Anna. Her quest for freedom started eight years ago after she realized she was attracted to girls. She said she felt she had to leave her country.

 

Aside from societal alienation, the maximum penalty for same-sex relationships in Iran is death, typically by stoning or hanging.

 

Anna spent years changing schools, consulting psychologists and running from the inevitable.

 

“After my mom took me to the psychologist for the 100th time, the psychologist recognized that this was true,” she said. “I only have attraction to girls.”

 

Although her mother was more open-minded, she said her religious father was not so supportive. Anna recounted the times he brutally abused her growing up, even going as far as trying to kill her. In Iran, domestic violence of this nature was only outlawed in 2020.

 

Her past also inspired her involvement in protesting the mistreatment of women in her country. The movement, known by its slogan “Women, Life, Freedom,” began in response to the continuous harm and degradation of women’s rights in Iran. She said her participation eventually landed her in jail for 30 days.

 

With an impending forced marriage and court date, Anna said she knew what she had to do.

 

“My life was in danger, both in my family and in my country,” she said. Her lawyer advised her to flee while she could, as either scenario would not end well.

 

Anna said she felt that if she stepped into that courtroom, no one could save her.

 

By December 2024, she said she traveled by plane to Venezuela and began her trek north. After traveling for about a month on both foot and bus, she attempted to seek U.S. asylum, hoping to finally fulfill her dreams of loving openly and honestly.

 

As with her fellow asylum seekers, she claims there was never an opportunity to explain her situation to immigration authorities. At one point during her detainment in the U.S., an immigration officer likened her situation to someone breaking into his house without permission.

 

Using that same analogy, Anna made a case for asylum for those in danger.

 

“If that person entered my house, I’m not going to kick them out just like that,” she said. “Probably they are in danger and they just entered my house looking for a place to stay, looking for a place to hide from somebody who is going to hurt them.”

“That’s a human,” she said.

Despite the stress and loneliness she felt while separated from her girlfriend and mother, she broke moments of sadness with jokes and pictures of her cats. She spoke about her love for Katy Perry and pop music — a gentle display of the hope she still has left.

 

But Anna also recalled the hopelessness and despair she felt after first being deported from the U.S. and detained in the Decapolis Hotel. She feared for her future, knowing the likely outcome of returning to Iran. In that moment, she found the remaining prescriptions she used for her mental illness. With them, the 20-year-old attempted to take her own life.

 

“I would rather die peacefully on my own than have my mother see me hung in public for being gay,” she said.

 

Paramedics resuscitated her, but the look in Anna’s piercing blue eyes didn’t give off a feeling of relief. Instead, they looked tired.

 

While Anna’s story continues to unfold, she still yearns for the life she once loved in Iran

.

“I love my country,” she said. “I really hope the government is going to change and we can return without having any trouble.”

 

They arrive. They pass. They leave.

 

“They arrive, they pass, and they leave,” were the words of Mulino, the Panamanian president, at his press conference on March 13.

 

His statement was in response to a question about the current state of migration through Panama and how the administration was managing the recently released group from Darién. He explained that migrants were released on 30-day visas, renewable up to 90 days.

 

Mulino said the visas provided the “necessary slack” for them to exit Panama on their own terms. “They are very distant nationalities, Iranians, Afghans, etc., who have no reason to be here,” he said.

 

Panama’s Ministry of Public Security, when asked for comment, simply echoed Mulino’s comments and affirmed that once the 90 days are up the migrants would need to find a safe third country or they would lack legal status and become undocumented in Panama.

 

Amid Trump’s renewed efforts to reclaim control of the Panama Canal, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio demanded more migration cooperation, eventually praising Mulino “for his support of a joint repatriation program, which has reduced illegal migration through the Darién Gap.” The drastic reduction in crossings has left the once congested migrant route looking vacant.

 

Regardless, some believe that decisions from the Trump administration to address immigration and the U.S. immigrant population will have negative consequences for Panama and the rest of Latin America.

 

Orlando Perez, a professor of political science at the University of North Texas, questions the long-term benefits of Trump’s policies. Having studied international relations in Panama for over 30 years, he said, “None of this really solves or deals with the underlying issues that lead to migration, which have to do with violence, war, poverty and corruption.”

 

The disbandment of USAID, although not directly affecting Panama, will likely have spillover effects from other countries losing foreign aid. Perez mentioned the push and pull factors of migration. Although shifting immigration policy in the U.S. may discourage people from trying to immigrate, persecution in their home countries remains a push factor.

 

With the recent decision to cancel parole programs for over half a million Venezuelans, Nicaraguans, Haitians and Cubans, the situation is likely to worsen. Some migrants in the U.S. now face a similar dilemma to those displaced elsewhere.

 

Perez noted that if migrants cannot stay in or enter the U.S., they will either remain where they are or search for a new country. The problem is that smaller countries do not have the resources to accommodate an influx. “It’s just not sustainable if the flow increases significantly.”

 

The pushes and pulls are at their extremes, leaving many in limbo.

 

The stories of Hayatullah, Aleks, Sathesh and Anna perfectly illustrate this reality — for them and other migrants worldwide, options are running out.

 

As of April, 48 of the original 299 remain at a shelter run by Fe y Alegría in Panama City. Among them are Hayatullah, Aleks and Sathesh. Others, like Anna, have continued to journey to their next destination. Some have headed south to Brazil, others to Mexico and Costa Rica. No matter where, the sentiment remains the same — next steps are unclear, and human stories hang in the balance.

 

“I cannot go back. It is impossible,” Hayatullah said.

 

“I feel lost,” Aleks said.

 

“Life has no future,” Sathesh said.

 

“Is this not against humanity?” asked Anna.

 

For now, their dreams of reaching freedom remain on pause.

 

Lorenzo Gomez/Cronkite Borderlands Project. Reproduced with permission by Cronkite News.