In Ohio, Haitians’ American dream shatters as ICE prepares to deport them

When Monsanto Maler walked out of an Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) facility in Blue Ash, Ohio, at 9.15am on Sunday with an ankle monitor freshly attached to his left leg, he put his hand over his face, burst into tears and fell to the ground.

He had come to the US in June 2023, fleeing gangs in Cap-Haïtien, Haiti, where he had been hit over the right side of his head, leaving a large, visible scar.

Grief-stricken and unable to hold himself up, he collapsed on the ground, his dozens of immigration documents, which a moment before had been carefully packed under his arm, strewn across the concrete. His face was full of confusion, his eyes bewildered. His American dream had ended in humiliation and despondency, with a metal box tied around his ankle.

“I feel depressed, physically, mentally. I feel dizzy,” he said through an interpreter.

Four hours earlier, 75 miles (120km) to the north in Springfield, Viles Dorsainvil, who heads the Haitian Support Center, and Pastor Carl Ruby loaded into a sedan on a humid, foggy morning at 5.30am. They were about to embark on the drive south to the Blue Ash facility to help Haitians such as Maler in any way they could.

On the drive, the pair talked about their efforts to help a family from Ruby’s church in Springfield emigrate to Quebec City, one of the thousands of Haitians forced to leave the US due to the Trump administration’s anti-immigrant policies.

“I was helping them pack. The dad had all this patriotic stuff with him,” said Ruby, who knows at least two Haitians from his congregation who have been called to Blue Ash to be fitted with ankle monitors.

“It makes me sad that what he’s going to remember from the United States is that he had to leave.”

Dorsainvil talked about a Haitian man who worked at a local Amazon warehouse, had temporary protected status (TPS) until 2029 and had come to his center last Friday seeking help. “When he got that letter [requiring him the come to the Blue Ash facility], he was terrified, he got sick,” Dorsainvil said.

Dorsainvil, himself a TPS holder, and Ruby chatted about what was happening in Haiti right now – that a burger there cost $16 and how the absence of opportunity was pushing people into gangs or to flee the country for their lives.

On 5 August, the Washington DC district judge Ana Reyes, whose ruling had previously prevented the Trump administration from lifting TPS for hundreds of thousands of Haitians, was forced to remove her stay, following a decision from the supreme court backing the Trump administration’s efforts. It means that for about 350,000 Haitians in the US on TPS, it’s an end for their lives in the US.

Over the last decade, more than 12,000 Haitians moved to the Rust belt town of Springfield, where they worked in labor-intensive jobs in manufacturing and food packaging, jobs that local companies struggled to fill.

But in September 2024, then presidential candidate Donald Trump falsely claimed that immigrants in Springfield were eating pets, setting off a firestorm of unrest that fueled neo-Nazi marches, bomb threats and school closures in Springfield, and the national immigration debate centered on the town of 60,000 people.

In recent weeks, dozens of Haitian nationals living in Springfield – some who had applied for asylum, others who had TPS – have begun receiving emails from the Department of Homeland Security ordering them to show up at the Blue Ash facility, often early on a Sunday morning. The letter, a photo of which was seen by the Guardian, contained no stated reason for the requirement or an indication that a monitoring device would be attached to their bodies.

According to advocates and lawyers representing the Haitian nationals, those who received the ankle monitors will not be allowed to travel more than 75 miles from their home without the consent of an immigration judge. The Blue Ash Ice office is at least 71 miles from Springfield.

By 7am outside the Ice facility, streams of protesters – nuns and priestesses, children, and men wearing USA hockey jerseys – had positioned themselves along the road in front of the building.

Aside from one marked DHS police vehicle parked outside, the ICE building, a single-story, red-brick office, had no obvious marking to indicate its use as a federal government facility.

“Life there is extremely difficult. Haiti is the poorest country in the western hemisphere; [it’s a country] exploited for all of its resources,” said Lorne Hlad, a pastor from Cincinnati attending the protest, who has worked in Haiti and visited six times.

“[TPS] should be renewed. Gangs control Port-au-Prince; there’s no active government. Sending people back to a country that has no infrastructure to protect them is inhumane.”

At 7.40am, the first Haitian national, a man dressed all in black, arrived for his appointment. By 8am three people, including Maler, had arrived. Thirty minutes later, a Haitian man and woman arrived and were given communion by Ruby, who had brought a vat of wine, bread and a large gold cross.

“We want to give them the message that Jesus is with them,” said Ruby.

“The Bible isn’t policy, but the Bible is very clear that God loves immigrants. It teaches that they are to have access to justice.”

Dorsainvil and immigration lawyers said they were assisting Haitians to file a motion for amelioration that could remove or replace the ankle monitors with monitoring devices worn on the wrist.

“The wrist monitors may be slightly less stigmatizing,” said Heather Campbell, an immigration lawyer representing several of the Haitian immigrants.

“But anything that differentiates you from somebody else, especially if you are part of a community that people know this is happening to, it’s going to make you uncomfortable.”

Questions sent by the Guardian to Ice and the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) asking, among other things, the stated objective of attaching ankle bracelets to Haitian nationals, were not directly responded to. Instead, Ice shared a statement that read: “Every day, DHS is conducting law enforcement activities across the country to keep Americans safe. DHS does not discuss ongoing or future operations.”

Organizers of Sunday’s protest estimate that about 700 people showed up to support the Haitian immigrants.

“It’s reminiscent of the shackles used during slavery, something the Haitian people are very familiar with, after liberating themselves from slavery in the late 18th century,” said Samantha Searl of Ignite Peace, the non-profit leading the protest action outside the Ice facility.

“The ankle monitors send a message to all immigrants that they will always continue to be subjected to the violence of our punitive immigration system.”

Facing midterm elections in November, recent polls show American public opinion is souring on the Trump administration’s Ice enforcement activity. A YouGov poll released on 21 July found that just 30% of those surveyed believe Ice has been using necessary and justified force in its activities.

Having gotten back to his feet and walking a short distance from the Ice facility, Maler, still visibly reeling from what happened to him, was driven away by a friend in a small sedan car, his hopes and dreams of a better life in America shattered.

On the drive back to Springfield, Ruby and Dorsainvil stopped at a McDonald’s. Ruby ordered an iced tea, Dorsainvil some ice water.

Dorsainvil was clearly exhausted – he said he stayed up late the previous night working on his university thesis.

“It’s a study of the economic impact of Haitian immigrants on Springfield,” he said.

Reporting from The Guardian contributed to this story.