Hello, my name is Melissa — but most people know me as Moomi. I’m from Tampa, Florida, and today I’m reaching out with a heavy heart, asking for your help during the most painful and uncertain moment of my family’s life.

On May 1st, 2025, my father Pedro (age 59) was finally released from prison after serving 22 years for simply being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Despite carrying a burden that wasn’t fully his, he kept his faith, never gave up hope, and dreamt of coming home to rebuild his life and reconnect with his children — especially the time that was taken from us.

But just 35 days later, on June 5th, my father was detained by ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) at a mandatory immigration check-in appointment — one we were told would be routine. I dropped him off that morning, expecting to see him shortly after.

That was the last time I saw my dad.

Instead of returning to the life he was finally free to rebuild, my father was immediately detained and sent into ICE custody — without warning, without legal representation, and without the chance to even say goodbye.

Over the course of 28 days, my dad was moved between multiple ICE facilities. In each one, he and dozens of other detained immigrants were:

    •    Denied food, water, and basic hygiene

    •    Left to sleep on cold concrete floors

    •    Cramped into small holding cells with 30–40 other people

    •    Given little to no access to phones or contact with loved ones

On Day 27, he was transferred to a U.S. Border Patrol processing center in Texas. There, he was told he would be deported — not given a hearing, not allowed to speak to a judge, and not given a chance to plead his case — despite being a legal resident since 2004, and married to a U.S. citizen with U.S.-born children.

Because of his incarceration, he was never able to renew his green card — a technicality that ICE used to justify separating him from his family after 30 years of life in America.

My father was forcibly deported to Mexico — a country he has no ties to, with no resources, no documents, and no family.

For two days, we had no idea where he was. Then, at 3:00 AM, he was finally able to make a rushed phone call. He told us he was somewhere in Tabasco, Villahermosa — near the Guatemalan border — with two other Cuban men who had also been deported. The three of them were able to reach a small hotel thanks to the help of one of the men’s wives who flew to Mexico and paid for a room temporarily.

They now face a terrifying, uncertain future in a country they’ve never lived in — with no legal status, no money, and no way home.

We are desperately trying to help my father survive and stay safe until we can find a path forward — whether that means legal aid, relocation, or stabilization in Mexico.

We are seeking donations to help cover:

    •    Shelter – $80/night hotel cost

    •    Food & Water

    •    Clothing & Basic Hygiene Supplies

    •    Phone access & emergency communication

    •    Long-term relocation assistance or legal help

I am a mother myself. I work hard, I support my own children, and I never thought I would have to beg for help like this. But I would never abandon my father, not now — not after what he’s already survived.

Any donation — no matter how small — will help keep my dad alive, warm, and safe right now. If you can’t give, please consider sharing this link. A single share might be the one that changes everything.

Thank you for reading our story. Thank you for seeing my father as more than an ID number or a case file. He is a good man, a loved father, and a survivor of a broken system that failed him — twice.

With love and hope,

Melissa (“Moomi”) and Family