- N
- A
My name is Jonathan, and my husband Brandon is my oxygen — my everything. He is the person who gives my life meaning, my partner in every way, and the love that keeps me grounded. On September 26, 2025, I felt that oxygen ripped away from me.
That morning, we walked into what we believed would be the last step in proving to the immigration system that our marriage was real. We were nervous, but hopeful. We even joked about where we would go for lunch afterward, believing we would walk out hand in hand, finally able to breathe again after years of stress and waiting.
Brandon went in first. As he stepped out, he kissed me and whispered, “I love you, see you soon.” Those were the last peaceful words I heard from him. My interview was quick, maybe 15 minutes. But when the officer returned to escort me back, I noticed another officer at their side. That’s when my world collapsed.
“Take a seat,” they told me. “Brandon is in ICE custody due to an active deportation order.”
I couldn’t breathe. My chest caved in, my hands shook, and my vision blurred. The man who is my oxygen had just been ripped from me. The officers told me to breathe, but how could I? How do you breathe when the person who makes life worth living is suddenly gone?
Hours later, Brandon managed to call me. His voice was shaking as he told me what happened. He had been rushed into a separate room, surrounded by officers, taken away so no one could see. He said, “I was calling your name, but the walls were soundproof. I couldn’t reach you. I love you. Please don’t give up on us.” Hearing him cry on the phone, broken and scared, crushed me. But in that moment, I also knew I had to keep fighting.
That same night, he was transferred to a jail in Virginia. For more than 24 hours, I didn’t know where he was or if he was okay. The silence nearly destroyed me. But no matter how hopeless it felt, I couldn’t stop fighting. Brandon is my air — and without him, I’m suffocating.
Brandon came to the U.S. seeking asylum after facing death threats and losing two family members to violence. He ran for his life, and by chance, he found me. Together, we built a home and a family with our dog Benjie. All of that is now being threatened, not because of something Brandon did wrong, but because of negligence from the lawyer we once trusted.
When we hired our former lawyer, Robert, we believed he would guide us. What we didn’t know was that his paralegal was the one keeping everything together. When that paralegal left, Robert failed to be honest with us. He never admitted he wasn’t an immigration expert, and Brandon’s case spiraled into mistakes that now put his life at risk.
The errors were devastating. He failed to update Brandon’s address after we moved—twice. He claimed he never received communication about Brandon’s asylum interview. He avoided our questions, told us not to worry about a deportation notice, and didn’t show up to represent us during our marriage interview. Worst of all, he never clearly told us that Brandon had an active deportation order.
Because of these mistakes, Brandon never received his court notices and unknowingly missed his hearing. A final order of removal was issued in November 2023. We didn’t learn about it until nearly a year later, when Brandon checked his Alien number on his own. On October 9, 2025, we received confirmation that the deportation was final.
With the support of friends and family, we’ve connected with a new attorney who has been honest about the complexity and cost of fixing this. The process of overturning Brandon’s deportation and proving the negligence of our former lawyer will cost at least $10,000 to begin, with another $10,000 needed for waivers, petitions, and legal filings.
This is not easy for me to ask, but we cannot face this alone. Every donation, no matter the size, will go directly toward legal fees and the fight to keep our family together. By contributing, you are helping give us a chance at the future we always dreamed of, side by side, safe and together.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading our story, for sharing it, and for any support you can give. Your kindness means more than you know.
With gratitude,
Jonathan, Brandon, and Benjie
That morning, we walked into what we believed would be the last step in proving to the immigration system that our marriage was real. We were nervous, but hopeful. We even joked about where we would go for lunch afterward, believing we would walk out hand in hand, finally able to breathe again after years of stress and waiting.
Brandon went in first. As he stepped out, he kissed me and whispered, “I love you, see you soon.” Those were the last peaceful words I heard from him. My interview was quick, maybe 15 minutes. But when the officer returned to escort me back, I noticed another officer at their side. That’s when my world collapsed.
“Take a seat,” they told me. “Brandon is in ICE custody due to an active deportation order.”
I couldn’t breathe. My chest caved in, my hands shook, and my vision blurred. The man who is my oxygen had just been ripped from me. The officers told me to breathe, but how could I? How do you breathe when the person who makes life worth living is suddenly gone?
Hours later, Brandon managed to call me. His voice was shaking as he told me what happened. He had been rushed into a separate room, surrounded by officers, taken away so no one could see. He said, “I was calling your name, but the walls were soundproof. I couldn’t reach you. I love you. Please don’t give up on us.” Hearing him cry on the phone, broken and scared, crushed me. But in that moment, I also knew I had to keep fighting.
That same night, he was transferred to a jail in Virginia. For more than 24 hours, I didn’t know where he was or if he was okay. The silence nearly destroyed me. But no matter how hopeless it felt, I couldn’t stop fighting. Brandon is my air — and without him, I’m suffocating.
Brandon came to the U.S. seeking asylum after facing death threats and losing two family members to violence. He ran for his life, and by chance, he found me. Together, we built a home and a family with our dog Benjie. All of that is now being threatened, not because of something Brandon did wrong, but because of negligence from the lawyer we once trusted.
When we hired our former lawyer, Robert, we believed he would guide us. What we didn’t know was that his paralegal was the one keeping everything together. When that paralegal left, Robert failed to be honest with us. He never admitted he wasn’t an immigration expert, and Brandon’s case spiraled into mistakes that now put his life at risk.
The errors were devastating. He failed to update Brandon’s address after we moved—twice. He claimed he never received communication about Brandon’s asylum interview. He avoided our questions, told us not to worry about a deportation notice, and didn’t show up to represent us during our marriage interview. Worst of all, he never clearly told us that Brandon had an active deportation order.
Because of these mistakes, Brandon never received his court notices and unknowingly missed his hearing. A final order of removal was issued in November 2023. We didn’t learn about it until nearly a year later, when Brandon checked his Alien number on his own. On October 9, 2025, we received confirmation that the deportation was final.
With the support of friends and family, we’ve connected with a new attorney who has been honest about the complexity and cost of fixing this. The process of overturning Brandon’s deportation and proving the negligence of our former lawyer will cost at least $10,000 to begin, with another $10,000 needed for waivers, petitions, and legal filings.
This is not easy for me to ask, but we cannot face this alone. Every donation, no matter the size, will go directly toward legal fees and the fight to keep our family together. By contributing, you are helping give us a chance at the future we always dreamed of, side by side, safe and together.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading our story, for sharing it, and for any support you can give. Your kindness means more than you know.
With gratitude,
Jonathan, Brandon, and Benjie
Organizer
