Joanna Garzes Lopez’ last days in the U.S. were sad and very busy.
With tears in her eyes, she slowly filled cardboard boxes placed throughout her Pike Township home with pieces of the life she and her husband, Manuel de Jesus Montes-Lazo, have worked to build over the last decade.
Some items, like photo frames, hurt to look at. They’re filled with pictures of the couple, their kids Macario, 6, and Jacob, 4, and the rest of the extended family smiling widely. They’re beautiful moments in Lopez’ life frozen in time. For now, at least, moments like those will be hard to come by.
Joanna is a U.S. citizen, but Manuel is from Honduras and is undocumented. The couple married in 2019 and began the process to get Manuel his legal status.
“We were trying to do it properly, but there were so many barriers that were against us to be able to get over that wall,” she said.
That process has been delayed for years due to the COVID-19 pandemic and recent changes to federal policies, meaning that, despite being married to an American citizen, he was still in the country illegally.
In April, Manuel was arrested by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. For months, he was held at the Clay County Justice Center in Brazil in west central Indiana. He’s now in a federal facility in south Texas, awaiting deportation to Honduras.
Immigration policies put in place by the Trump and Biden administrations have worked to reduce illegal immigration into the country.
But, Trump policies have also reduced legal immigration, including the issuance of spousal visas. Between 2024 and 2025, the issuance of those visas dropped by 65%
According to Stuart Mora, immigrant rights advocate with the Indiana Organizing Project, Joanna’s family is one of at least 20 in Indianapolis torn apart by federal policies that have made immigrating to the U.S. legally nearly impossible for some.
“You’re left with a handful of bad options. One is to go to a country you may not be from … or am I going to try to survive as a single parent here in the U.S.,” Mora said. “It causes a lot of desperation.”
For Joanna, a devout Christian, the choice was clear.
“We value family more than we do anything else, and the Bible says that it’s not good for the man to be alone. And we believe the Bible,” she said.
Now, despite dangers like deadly cartels and hardships like a lack of access to clean water and education for her children, Joanna is determined to start a new life in Honduras, a country she’s only visited for short periods of time. Manuel himself hasn’t lived there since he was in his 20s about 16 years ago.
During the reporting of this story, Joanna decided to move her family to Honduras to start a new life. They flew out June 12 with little more than hope and a desire to reunite with Manuel.
Love without borders
Joanna and her family are originally from San Antonio, Texas. They eventually made their way to Indianapolis, where she met Manuel.
She learned he was from a town in central Honduras called Yorito. The two bonded over similar interests, mainly their Christianity and community service through their church and the Immigrant Welcome Center.
“We would talk for hours about all the houses he would build for poor people and his country, and then I would talk about the community work that I would do for immigrants here in the U.S.,” Joanna remembered.
Manuel’s undocumented status didn’t bother her or her family. According to the nonpartisan Migration Policy Institute, 2.7 million — about 20% — of unauthorized immigrants in the U.S. are married to U.S. citizens.
“My sisters are married to undocumented men. My stepdad was undocumented, and lots of uncles and aunts were undocumented,” she said. “It was not something we thought about.”
The couple married in 2019 and began their marriage-based green-card petition. But then the COVID-19 pandemic struck, and the nation shut down, including government services like immigration processing.
“We started right away, but immigration put all the applications on hold during COVID for two years. If COVID didn’t happen, we would have had his papers already,” Joanna said.
The couple continued waiting for the immigration process to continue, but they didn’t put life on hold. They gave birth to their two sons, bought a home in the Brookstone neighborhood in northwest Indianapolis and opened a roofing business.
They were aware that life could change due to his immigration status, but they put it out of their minds.
“We didn’t really think super far out (in the future), because you know, there’s always a risk,” she said.
Instead of worrying about it, they focused on their roofing business. Its name, Manjoa Roofing, LLC, was made from the first three letters of their first names.
Things were largely going their way until one morning earlier this year.
Gone in an instant
One April morning, Manuel was on his way to wake up an employee who lives near their home.
According to Joanna, he saw an unusual amount of cars parked outside the employee’s home that morning. Manuel went inside to wake him up anyway.
Afterward, Manuel drove separately to a nearby gas station to air up his tires. That’s when some of the vehicles parked outside his employee’s home followed him. They were full of federal agents.
“They basically just pulled up behind him and pulled him out of the car. He was trying to call me on the phone, but they took it away and they hung it up,” she said. “That happened early in the morning. I didn’t find out till probably like, probably like 4 or 5 in the afternoon.”
Joanna was alarmed, but hoped the fact that he was married to a U.S. citizen would help him.
“I was thinking in my head, ‘Oh, they’re probably just gonna let him out because we’re almost done getting his documents.’ We were on the last application, and so I wasn’t too concerned,” she said.
But the Trump administration had recently made a major change that ensured Manuel would not go free.
In a September 2025 decision, the Board of Immigration Appeals, which interprets and applies immigration laws for the Justice Department, decided that any person who crossed the border unlawfully and is later taken into immigration detention is no longer eligible for release on bond.
That meant Manuel would stay locked up until his eventual deportation.
Mirror Indy asked U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, which processes immigration and naturalization applications, about Manuel’s case.
The agency said via email that it does not comment on individual immigration cases, but a pending application or petition with immigration services does not protect a person from ICE enforcement actions.
Besides worrying about Manuel’s safety, Joanna now also had to ensure their business kept operating so she and her kids had money to live and to pay for his immigration attorney.
They applied for a cancellation of removal, which would stop the deportation because of the hardship it would cause the family, but an immigration judge denied the application.
“They asked him if he wanted to appeal, but our attorney said that it could take months or years, and I wasn’t going to be able to afford continuing paying for the house and other stuff,” Joanna said. “So, yeah, he just waived his appeal.”
That meant Manuel would definitely be deported.
Dealing with Manuel’s absence
Manuel’s absence has greatly impacted their family, both emotionally and financially.
“We’re going to have to close down our business,” Joanna said. “We’re going to have to sell the house, because I can’t pay the mortgage.”
The kids are devastated.
Their youngest, Jacob, has been wetting the bed and having nightmares since his father’s absence.
Their oldest, Macario, felt like he had to stop being a kid.
“He has a huge weight on his shoulders, thinking that he has to be the man of the house. He’s only 6, and he thinks he has to protect Mommy and he has to get things done,” Joanna said.
Joanna now had to figure out what to do. Luckily, several organizations in Indianapolis exist to help with these moments.
In addition to the Indiana Organizing Project, Indianapolis families in Joanna’s situation can receive help from groups like La Plaza, Immigrant Welcome Center, Exodus Refugee Immigration, Inc. and Indiana Undocumented Youth Alliance.
They help connect families with available resources to help them deal with the mental and financial challenges of a sudden deportation, like Manuel’s.
“Our approach is relationship first,” said Mora, the immigration rights advocate. “We accompany you with love through this crisis and on to the next chapter in your life.”
Sometimes that means getting families to snap out of the shock of the experience.
“People in crisis experience paralysis and we don’t have resources to pay to support them for months at a time,” Mora said. “Pretty quickly, we have to move into having hard conversations about what they’re going to do next.”
For Joanna, the decision was clear. She knows in her heart that the family should stay together, even if the U.S. government doesn’t agree. The next phase of their life would have to be in Honduras.
Planning for the future
Joanna and her kids have only visited Honduras for short periods of time and now they’re trying to adapt while they wait for Manuel to be deported.
“I’m sure I’m going to face new barriers over there. It will be a culture shock,” she said.
The longest they’ve visited Manuel’s home town of Yorito is three weeks, and each time they’ve gone, their two kids have gotten sick.
“I think it’s the water, because they start throwing up and having diarrhea,” she said.
Still, Jacob, Joanna’s youngest son, is excited about Honduras.
“He’s like, ‘We’re gonna go see Papi, he’s gonna be over there, we’re gonna be over there, and we’re gonna go on the horses,’ and things like that,” Joanna said.
But her eldest son, Macario, is having a more difficult time accepting the move. He’s worried he’s never going to see his school friends again.
“He starts crying every time he starts thinking about it. Then, when he sees me crying, he just hugs me. He’s been hugging me a lot. I feel bad, because he’s 6. He shouldn’t have to think about that,” Joanna said.
Joanna’s mother, Teresita Lemus Garzes, is dreading the move, too. With a recent knee replacement surgery and other health issues, Teresita won’t be able to join them in Honduras or visit them for a long while.
“I just started crying and crying. We’ve never been apart for a long time. I’m not gonna be able to see my grandkids. My health is not great, so traveling is hard, and my husband’s in a nursing home, so he won’t be able to go, either,” Teresita said.
In past visits, the family has stayed with Manuel’s parents. They’ll have to do it again for a while. They began building a home there several years ago, but they lack the funds to get it finished.
There are other worries about the move.
Her oldest son, Macario, wants to be an engineer when he grows up. She knows she will have a difficult time getting him the education he needs to achieve that dream.
Joanna’s been told that schools don’t operate every day there, and she’ll have to find the money to pay for uniforms. Without those, her kids won’t be able to attend school.
Another concern is medical care. If something happens, the closest hospital is a 2-hour drive away.
She’ll also have to learn how to cook over an open fire and wash clothes by hand. Joanna has carpal tunnel syndrome, which will make both more difficult.
In the family’s last days in the U.S., they tried to pack everything they could use in Honduras.
Manuel’s family told Joanna opportunities to make money will be slim, and the amount of things they can buy is limited.
“They said make sure you bring shoes a bunch of sizes bigger for your kids, because there’s no shoes over here. You have to go four hours away to be able to buy clothes, and that’s if you have a car, money or a job,” Joanna said.
They also advised her to bring durable pots and pans, kitchen utensils, water testing strips, water filters and everything else she could manage to ship. They told her she might not be able to afford or find new appliances for a few years.
Crime is a concern
On top of all those issues, Yorito is a hotbed of criminal activity. It’s a main place of operations for El Cartel del Diablo, or “The Devil’s Cartel,” a drug trafficking organization known for murder, kidnapping and extortion.
Crime is one of the reasons Hondurans and other Central Americans have fled their home countries. The U.S. State Department issued a Honduras travel advisory in December 2024, advising people traveling to the country to reconsider their visit due to widespread crime.
“A lot of people (Manuel’s) age have already died or they’ve moved out of town,” Lopez said. “We’ve already heard so many stories from people we know or through social media. It’s terrifying.”
Manuel’s family has warned her and her husband to talk to the kids about what they’re not allowed to do in Honduras, like playing outside or going off to a neighbor’s house.
“There’s gangs and the cartel. They can kidnap your kids and put them to work,” Joanna said.
According to the U.S. Department of Labor, children in Honduras are used by the cartels to commit extortion, transport weapons, and sell and traffic drugs.
“I love it over there when I’m visiting, but now I have to think about how it is to live there,” Joanna said.
The last day in the USA
Knowing that Manuel could be deported at any time, Joanna chose to move quickly. She had to try and get to Honduras before Manuel was deported.
Hondurans deported from the U.S. get sent to San Pedro Sula, about 105 miles from Manuel’s hometown. He will have to figure out how to get home on his own. Joanna hopes she can be there when he arrives.
“He’s scared about when they drop him off, because he’s not going to have anything. He’s not going to have a phone,” Joanna said. “We’ve already heard so many stories from (deported) people we’ve known about what happens.”
Deportees are warned to not look strangers in the eye, use a stranger’s phone to call family or get into any unknown vehicles to avoid potential violence, kidnapping or extortion.
She managed to secure enough money to get everything arranged at home and to buy plane tickets for her and her kids to fly to Honduras June 12.
When the day arrived, they woke up early and loaded seven pieces of luggage into their vehicle, each so full they were nearly splitting at the seams. The kids brought a small blanket to keep them warm and a few toys to keep them company.
They then drove away from the home they’ve known their entire lives, toward the home of Joanna’s sister, Melanie.
The kids say their final goodbyes to their cousins in the darkness. They don’t cry, but the adults do.
“I can’t believe you’re actually leaving,” one of the kids says to their aunt. “I know,” Joanna said.
They say a prayer together, and then Melanie drives them to the airport.
There, the already-stressed Joanna faces the rigors of travel. Some of her bags are too heavy, so she has to shuffle the contents around. Her children are getting hungry and asking for food, and Jacob is too tired to carry his backpack.
Once that’s arranged, the family walked to the edge of the security gate to say their final goodbyes.
They made it to Yorito safely, but more than a week after their arrival, Manuel had still not been deported. They’re still waiting for him to arrive and for their new life together to begin.
“I’m anxious and sad,” Joanna told Mirror Indy via a text from Honduras. “We are waiting for him over here, and it’s been difficult for us to not have him here. We are fine with our family, but we could definitely be better with my husband.”
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Mirror Indy reporter Enrique Saenz covers west Indianapolis. Contact him at 317-983-4203 or enrique.saenz@mirrorindy.org. Follow him on Bluesky at @enriquesaenz.bsky.social.
Stephanie Amador is a Mirror Indy freelance contributor. Contact her at stephaniekblondet@gmail.com.
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