Faby Rodriguez’s Return Journey to Cuba

By Rachel Pereda (El Toque)

HAVANA TIMES – Faby Rodríguez, 22, did not think she would be detained that morning, that it would be her last day of freedom in the United States. She arrived on time for her immigration check-in appointment in San Antonio, Texas, as she always had. That day, her journey back to Cuba began.

Up to that moment, her story seemed like just one more among the thousands of immigration cases open in the United States. She had left Cuba in 2022 for Nicaragua, from where she began a long and dangerous journey. Upon entering US territory, she was detained for three days and then released with an I-220A form, the document that allowed her to continue her process at liberty while her case was reviewed by an immigration court.

As she had done throughout that time, Faby complied with every step: she filed her asylum application, attended her court hearings, and reported punctually to every immigration check-in at the Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) office. She never had problems. She never missed an appointment. That is why, when she handed over her documents that day and went into the waiting room, she did not think anything could go wrong.

Thirty minutes later—longer than usual—they began calling several people by name. Hers was the first.

The door that changed everything

When officers told her to remain silent and walk through a door, Faby did not know she was entering a new stage of the immigration system: detention. As she recounts in an exclusive interview with El Toque, once inside they explained that their cases would be reviewed “110 percent,” that they had been improperly processed at the border, and that now they would be processed “correctly.”

The message was direct: they would remain detained. The alternative was voluntary departure from the United States.

Faby was held from morning until night. After 11:00 p.m., she was transferred to another detention center, an hour from San Antonio. She arrived around 12:30 a.m. The process was slow. There were about 12 women and 60 men waiting. They finished processing them around 4:00 a.m., and at that time they were given something to eat. At 10:00 a.m. the next day they were allowed to leave that area.

That was when she began to understand that her story was not exceptional.

Prolonged detention, indefinite waiting

At the detention center she met people of dozens of nationalities: Honduras, Nicaragua, Guatemala, Venezuela, Colombia, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Russia, China, Cuba. Most had been detained under similar circumstances: an appointment, a review, an unexpected transfer.

Many had been detained for six, seven, or eight months. Others still had no court date. Upon arrival, they were told that after ten business days, a hearing would be assigned. In practice, some people waited more than 40 days without receiving any date at all.

Faby had her first hearing that month. Her attorney requested that she be released on bond or with an electronic ankle monitor so she could continue the process from outside detention. The judge denied it.

He explained that under the immigration policies applied at that time, detained individuals did not have an automatic right to bond or alternative measures. They had to remain detained until the process concluded. The options were clear: fight for asylum from detention or accept voluntary departure.

Faby decided to fight.

What is the I-220A form and what changed?

The I-220A is an Order of Release on Recognizance issued by Immigration and Customs Enforcement. It does not grant legal immigration status, permanent residency, or definitive protection against deportation. Its function is to allow a person to remain out of detention while their immigration case continues before an immigration court, under specific conditions such as attending check-ins, reporting changes of address, and complying with the judicial process.

Although for years it was perceived as a form of temporary stability, the I-220A has a key limitation for Cuban immigrants: it is not considered parole under US immigration law. This means it does not allow eligibility under the Cuban Adjustment Act, which requires having been admitted or paroled in order to apply for permanent residency after one year and one day in the United States.

In practice, that interpretation left thousands of Cubans trapped in an immigration limbo. People who entered irregularly through the border and surrendered to authorities were released discretionarily with parole or with an I-220A, depending on the officers who processed them. Those in the latter category, because of that status, have mostly been unable to adjust under the Cuban Adjustment Act.

Although for years the I-220A was seen as a sign of relative stability, that perception changed radically in 2025, with the new Trump administration.

With the tightening of immigration policy during 2025, the situation became even more fragile. The I-220A not only ceased to represent an expectation of future regularization but also exposed its holders to new detentions and deportations, even during routine immigration appointments. Cases of people detained despite having complied with the system for years began to multiply.

This shift explains why fear and uncertainty have grown notably in recent months among Cubans with I-220A. The combination of a status that does not allow applying under the Cuban Adjustment Act and a more aggressive immigration policy has transformed what was once seen as a long but stable wait into a situation of constant vulnerability.

The weight of deportation figures

Faby’s experience occurs within a broader context. In 2025, the United States intensified deportations, reaching levels of previous years.

According to data from the Department of Homeland Security (DHS), more than 2 million undocumented immigrants have left the United States so far in 2025. Of that total, 1.6 million did so voluntarily and more than 527,000 were expelled by the end of October 2025 under ICE coordination.

The population detained by ICE reached more than 65,000 people in different detention centers, a historic level that far exceeds previous records and includes both cases with criminal records and people without criminal convictions, which has generated criticism from human rights advocates.

The figures contrast with recent years: in early January 2025, there were approximately 39,000 people detained, a number that grew rapidly with the expansion of detention centers and immigration operations.

In the case of Cuba, in 2025 expulsion from the US has moved along two parallel tracks: on the one hand, direct deportation flights to Havana; on the other, an increase in expulsions to “third countries,” mainly Mexico, leaving many deportees in legal limbo.

Throughout 2025, direct deportations to Cuba from the United States showed a sustained increase. A total of 1,498 Cubans have been returned by the Trump administration since January on 12 ICE deportation flights, the highest number for a US president in a single term. The operations were carried out periodically and consolidated aerial repatriation as a tool of migration control, not as an exceptional measure.

After the most recent flight on December 18, 2025, Trump has accumulated the highest number of Cuban deportees in US history, with 4,883. The statistics recorded by previous US presidents fall far short of Trump’s record: Joe Biden (978), Barack Obama (341), and George W. Bush (416).

In parallel, an increase in expulsions to countries other than the deportee’s country of origin was documented. By mid-2025, at least 731 Cubans had been sent to “third countries,” according to counts based on official records and independent analyses. Within that group, Mexico became the main destination, accounting for around 640 deportations in just a few months.

These expulsions to Mexico often mean that people do not receive legal status to reside or work there and end up displaced toward the south of the country, in cities such as Villahermosa, Tabasco. In many cases, they survive under highly precarious conditions, exposed to extortion, violence, and lack of access to basic services.

Behind those figures are stories like Faby’s: people who complied with the system and who, nonetheless, ended up detained.

Faby’s return

Faby gathered her evidence again and presented her case from scratch before a new judge. But on September 26, 2025, during her second virtual hearing, the judge told her he did not see real possibilities for her to win asylum. He considered her evidence insufficiently strong.

He offered voluntary departure as an alternative to avoid a formal deportation order that could close doors for her in the future. Faby accepted.

“He was a good judge,” she says. “Many don’t even let you speak and just give you a deportation order.”

Two months later, after a canceled flight and weeks of waiting, Faby was transferred, handcuffed—hands, waist, and feet—to Louisiana and from there to the airport, where the deportation flight departed. The handcuffs were removed just 25 minutes before landing in Havana.

The impact of deportation for Faby did not end after landing. Upon arriving in Cuba, she encountered a reality that barely left her space to process what she had lived through: sick relatives, constant blackouts, scarcity, and a climate of permanent stress.

Starting over in a country now very different from the one she left in 2022 made the return an even harsher experience. The urgency of addressing immediate needs displaced any possibility of migratory grief, a situation repeated among many deported people.

“Arriving was very hard,” she says. “The Cuba I left was bad, but now it’s worse.”

Today, Faby is with her son and her family. Grateful for the reunion, but aware that her story is also a warning.

“Don’t take anything for granted,” she says. “Even if you’re complying, everything can change from one day to the next.”

In a year marked by accelerated deportations, reviews of old cases, and unexpected detentions, the story of Faby Rodriguez sums up a reality affecting thousands of migrants: in the current immigration system, following the rules no longer guarantees remaining free.

First published in Spanish by El Toque and translated and posted in English by Havana Times.

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