When Janie Pérez answered her husband's call minutes after he left for work, she never expected to hear the words: "I think ICE is here." In the background, she heard immigration agents arresting Alejandro Pérez, an undocumented immigrant who had lived in the U.S. for 16 years.
For Janie, a U.S. citizen who doesn't speak Spanish, the choice was stark: stay in Missouri or move to Mexico to keep her family together. She chose Mexico. "There is nothing more important than being together," she said.
Their story is becoming increasingly common as President Donald Trump's second term, which began in January 2025, brings a surge in deportations. An estimated 1.1 million U.S. citizens are married to undocumented immigrants, according to official figures.
Undocumented immigrants face steep hurdles to legal status through marriage, as unlawful entry can trigger bars to obtaining a green card. Trump has made good on promises to crack down on what he calls an "invasion," but for couples like the Pérez family, the consequences are deeply personal.
'We cried together'
Alejandro was detained in October 2024, leaving Janie and their two young daughters, Luna and Lexie, behind. "I fell to the ground on my knees crying uncontrollably," Janie recalled. At the detention center, they pressed their hands against opposite sides of a glass partition. "We cried together," she said.
Alejandro, born in Michoacán, Mexico, first entered the U.S. without a visa at age seven. He later returned unlawfully, fearing forced recruitment by criminal gangs. He has no criminal record. Despite DHS claims of prioritizing "the worst of the worst," data shows under 38% of deportees have been charged or convicted of a crime.
In court, Janie saw Alejandro shackled. "It was heart-wrenching," she said. After five months in detention, he was deported to Mexico on March 11. Days later, Janie and their daughters followed. "I had tears of happiness when I saw him again at the airport," she said.
New life, old struggles
The reunion was bittersweet. Alejandro wakes at night disoriented, wondering if it's real. "So far I feel like all this is a dream," he said. For Janie, adapting to life in Querétaro, where she doesn't speak Spanish, is hard. But for another couple, Raegan Klein and Alfredo Linares, the decision to leave voluntarily came after they had just started a street-food business in Los Angeles.
As Trump's immigration policies tighten, more families face impossible choices. For Janie, the answer was clear: "I am white and that does not make me a better person. We want to be together."