In the last week, Cindy Aguilar made three trips to the Immigration and Customs Enforcement field office in downtown Atlanta from her home in Haralson County, near Georgia’s border with Alabama.
She described the visits as increasingly desperate attempts to locate her father-in-law, Jose Aguilar, a construction worker from Honduras.
“We’re all worried like, is he even alive?” she said. “I mean, he just kind of disappeared.”
On June 17, Aguilar received phone calls from people who live in her father-in-law’s Carroll County neighborhood. They told her they had seen law enforcement pull over the work van in which he was riding, and arrest him.
Shortly afterward, an ICE online database confirmed Jose Aguilar was in the agency’s custody. The 53-year-old was living in the U.S. without authorization after illegally entering the country six years ago, his daughter-in-law said.
According to longtime Atlanta-area immigration lawyer Charles Kuck, the online ICE tool is normally updated every 24 hours, displaying up-to-date information concerning immigrant detainees’ whereabouts. But as of Friday afternoon, ICE’s website still did not show in which detention facility Aguilar is being held, The Atlanta-Journal Constitution found.
Families in Florida, California, Tennessee and New Jersey have also reported difficulties trying to find loved ones in the ICE detention system, which experts are describing as increasingly overwhelmed.
Cindy Aguilar’s three visits to the Atlanta ICE field office proved fruitless.
She said she also spoke with the U.S. Marshals Service, local Carroll County law enforcement, and staff at Georgia’s two ICE detention centers — in Stewart and Charlton counties. Aguilar said she has yet to receive information about her father-in-law’s location.
“Nobody has any kind of information. Nobody can find him,” she said. “My husband hasn’t even been able to sleep. Like, that’s his daddy.
“We just want to know, is he OK? You know, where is he? It’s hard. He came over illegally, I get that, but he’s still human.”
ICE officials did not respond to a request for comment from the AJC.
“Aliens detained may be housed at any of the ICE facilities nationwide to secure their presence for immigration proceedings or removal from the United States,” an agency spokesperson told NJ Spotlight News earlier this year.
Anton Flores-Maisonet helps lead Casa Alterna, a local nonprofit that supports immigrants facing deportation. In recent months, Casa Alterna volunteers have coalesced in front of the Atlanta ICE field office, where they distribute snacks, water and know-your-rights information.
Flores-Maisonet said Casa Alterna’s workers are hearing more frequently about people who do not know where their friends or family members are being held.
“We had three people who came here just today trying to find out where their loved ones are being detained,” he said on a recent weekday. “What seems to be happening is that it’s taking longer for folks to get into the system.”
In Aguilar’s case, the online ICE database reads “call field office,” instead of showing the facility in which he is being held, as it does with most detainees.
“But [Cindy Aguilar] has been up here and they won’t give her information,” Flores-Maisonet said. “It’s a loop.”
ICE has stepped up apprehensions since the start of Donald Trump’s second administration, with the agency’s daily arrest quota jumping from 1,800 to 3,000. That has led to the federal detention system becoming overburdened, with reports of overcrowded facilities emerging from immigrant jails across the U.S., including Georgia’s Stewart Detention Center.
Nationwide, the federal government is currently holding more than 59,000 people in ICE detention, a roughly 50% increase since January. That far exceeds the 41,500 cap for which the agency is funded.
“There’s a record number of people being detained far beyond ICE’s budgetary limitations,” Kuck said. In his view, the detainee-tracking system should be “fully capable of handling that workload,” but he acknowledged that mistakes are possible.
Jose Aguilar is likely in one of Georgia’s remote immigrant jails, Kuck said, but he could also be further away.
“We’re hearing stories of these crazy transfers from coast to coast in the middle of the night,” Kuck said.
According to Cindy Aguilar, the other undocumented members of her family have in recent months been limiting public outings.
“They won’t even go out on their yard. They won’t let their kids go to school. They have completely shut down,” she said.
Because she is a U.S. citizen, Aguilar has shouldered the responsibility of approaching the authorities for information about her father-in-law.
“My husband’s whole family is like: ‘You’re American. Why can’t you find him?’” she said. “I’m the one trying to handle this ... and I can’t give them any answers.”
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