In 2018, our lives changed forever. My wife, my kids, and I fled Nicaragua after participating in peaceful protests against injustice. As a Christian pastor, I spoke out against oppression and stood for truth. Because of this, we were threatened, harassed, and feared for our lives. We left everything behind—our home, our business, and our stability—seeking safety in the United States. With hope in our hearts, we applied for asylum, trusting that we would find protection and a chance to rebuild our lives.

Since 2020, I obtained a work permit, had a job, and paid taxes as I waited on a court hearing to review my application for religious asylum. But recently, everything took a painful and unexpected turn. I was suddenly detained during what seemed like a routine traffic stop. Without warning, I was handcuffed and told this was an immigration operation. In that moment, fear and uncertainty overwhelmed me. I was taken into custody, separated from my family, and placed into a system that felt cold, confusing, and overwhelming. During my detention, I experienced deep emotional distress. I was denied basic requests at times, including the ability to contact my family for the first three days. I spent nights on the cold concrete, felt humiliated in public, and endured days filled with fear, confusion, and uncertainty about my future. At one point, my health was at risk due to extremely high blood pressure and stress and I ended up in the emergency room. Even then, I held on to my faith.

After days of hardship, confusion and mistakes in my file, and multiple transfers between facilities, I was finally given a chance for release on a bond. However, freedom came at a cost we were not prepared for. With the help of my church family, we managed to secure my release and cover the initial legal fees and the bond payment. But upon my release, I was left without my driver's license and work permit being returned to me. Today, we are trying to move forward, but the burden is overwhelming. We are still fighting our asylum case. We are still trying to rebuild our lives. And now we are carrying an unexpected and heavy financial weight.

No amount is too small. Every act of kindness brings us closer to stability. This journey has been filled with fear, pain, and uncertainty—but also faith. We still believe that God is with us. We still believe that justice matters. And we still believe that there are people willing to stand with us in compassion. If you can support us, share our story, or keep us in your prayers, it means more than words can express. Thank you for taking the time to read our story and for being part of our journey.