Recently, I called Nazario Jacinto-Carrillo, a 36-year-old farmer from the western highlands of Guatemala
whom I first wrote about in 2018. Back then, with his field barren and the price of crops stagnant, his family had been straining to survive on the $4 a week he brought home during harvest season. Most days, he and his wife went hungry; some days, his two young children did too. They were destitute and felt unsafe in their community. So that spring, he and his 5-year-old daughter, Filomena, set off for the United States. A “coyote” guided them to the American border near San Diego. All they had to do was walk across.
Things didn’t go as planned. As six Border Patrol agents surrounded them, Filomena grabbed onto one of Nazario’s legs, as did another girl her age with whom they were traveling. The girls screamed as the agents pulled the three apart, one of them holding Nazario by the neck. Nazario eventually agreed to be deported back to Guatemala because, he said, a federal agent told him that if he did so, Filomena would be returned to him within two weeks. This false promise was made to many separated parents, who were later portrayed by the administration as having heartlessly chosen to leave their children alone in the United States. “I would never abandon my daughter,” Nazario told me when we first spoke. More than a month had passed since Nazario’s deportation, and Filomena still wasn’t home.
Nazario’s voice cracked as he interrupted my questions with his own. When will Filomena be returned to Guatemala? How many weeks? What number of days? When is the United States government going to give back the children it kidnapped? What does it want with them?
They’re children.
It would take nearly three months, a team of lawyers, the sustained attention of journalists, and a federal court order for Filomena to be reunited with her family. By then she was 6; she’d celebrated a birthday in U.S. government custody.
When I called Nazario again recently, his children were still hungry and his family still felt unsafe. I told him that four years later, some parents still don’t have their children back. “I honestly don’t know what to say,” he said. When I asked him if Filomena, now 9 years old, thinks back
on what she experienced in the U.S., he handed her the phone so she could answer herself. She eked out a few words that I couldn’t understand and then went silent and handed the phone back to her father.
“Sorry,” he told me. “She’s crying.”