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Leticia, 19, was on her way to a job interview when her phone rang. Her younger brother, Josué, was crying. “Immigration came here,” he said, his voice shaking. As she turned around and began walking home, her heart pounding, a single thought kept looping in her mind: Would her siblings still be there when she arrived?
At their apartment on Viall Street, the signs of forced entry were obvious even before Leticia went in. The front door had been broken open, pieces of wood scattered across the floor. A bedroom door was damaged, its frame cracked. Inside, her brother, sister, and cousin — still in shock — were there, but her uncle and older cousin, the two adults who kept the household running, were gone.
The Families Left Behind
A special reporting project
That morning in mid-March, around 7 a.m., federal immigration agents arrested José Antonio Garcia Garcia, 39, and Miguel Ordoñez Socop, 35.
The agents, in military gear, used a battering ram to force open the front door. Leticia’s sister Elizabeth, 18, was still in bed. She heard the crash and froze, pretending to sleep. Josué and Londy, Leticia’s brother and cousin, both 16, were getting ready for school when agents entered, pointed rifles at them, handcuffed them, and asked for proof of legal residency, they said. Garcia Garcia was taken from the house. Socop was picked up separately, on his way to work.
A records search by The Light at the New Bedford District Court found that Socop has no criminal record in Massachusetts. It’s unclear whether Garcia Garcia has a criminal record, but he re-entered the country illegally, which is a felony offense. Both men were deported to Guatemala in mid-May.
Leticia, Elizabeth, Josué, and Londy have been asked to be identified by their second names for security reasons.
Leticia said she knew right away that her uncle and cousin wouldn’t be coming back. And she understood what that meant. They paid the rent, managed the bills, and kept the household running. Now, still a teenager, that responsibility would fall to her.
Looking at her siblings, still in fear, Leticia said she felt heartbroken. Then another feeling took over. “What am I going to do with all the expenses?”
The mantle of responsibility
Leticia learned about responsibility at an early age. Where she grew up in Chinique, a small municipality tucked into the northern highlands of Guatemala, she began working in a kitchen at the age of 11, kneading tortillas to help support her family. Though still a child, she was the oldest of seven siblings.
“That’s normal there,” Leticia said. “Kids have to work because sometimes there’s nothing to eat, so it’s not unusual for a child to start working that young.”
She earned 200 quetzales a month — about $26. It wasn’t enough, especially as the cost of living continued to rise.
In 2022, at 17 years old, she made the decision to cross the border into the United States as an unaccompanied minor — a legal category for migrants under 18 who arrive without lawful status and without a parent or guardian.
Before federal agents arrested her uncle and cousin, Leticia’s goal was to find a job, study English, and eventually become a translator for Spanish speakers.
“But with everything that’s happened, now I tell myself: whatever job it is — morning or night — as long as it’s work, I’ll take it,” Leticia said.
She found a part-time job, but it’s not enough to stand on her own. So far, organizations like the Centro Comunitario de Trabajadores and Mujeres Victoriosas in New Bedford have stepped in, offering financial help and emotional support and often checking in on her, Leticia said.
Their support has helped her take on the responsibility of leading the family and given her time to start mastering the skills of adulthood, she said. “It’s not easy to learn them, but I did manage to figure out how to do them — how to handle the money when the month ends. To make sure everything goes smoothly, because if we miss a month, the landlord gets upset.”
It’s been a new learning experience for her, she said, “And I know I don’t know everything. But I rely on myself, and I try to figure out how to move my siblings forward.”
Beyond covering expenses, Leticia has taken it upon herself to guide not just her siblings — making sure they stay in school, stay focused, and stay out of trouble — but even her cousin.
“I tell him, ‘Look, go to school. Keep studying, OK? Because it’s good for you,’” said Leticia. “Even if he’s not my brother, I still give him the same advice I give my own siblings: not to do bad things, to do things the right way.”
When asked if her siblings listen to her, Leticia said yes. Her brother Josué, sitting next to her, immediately said no — and started laughing.
Even though life has become harder, and for some it might seem easier to pack up and leave the U.S., Leticia said she doesn’t want to go back to Guatemala.
“It doesn’t make sense to go back and suffer again. My family there struggles, too — we’re a very low-income family. And my parents are older now; they’re not in a position to take on all the responsibility.”
Taking it day by day
As Leticia talks about the changes in her life, a one-month-old black and white kitten, Alara, climbs up her back and paws at her ponytail, making her giggle in between sentences. A friend gave it to her recently. It’s one more thing to care for, but Leticia said it helps.
“Sometimes it all comes back to your mind, and you ask yourself, ‘Why did this happen to me?’” she said. “But then, when I see the kitten — like right now, when it climbs on top of me and all that — it really helps me de-stress. It makes me forget for a while.”
The new, shiny white front door that replaced the broken one in their apartment doesn’t keep the fear out. Sometimes, when Leticia gets home from work, she finds Josué locked in his room. Other times, he’s asleep with the light still on. She said she talked to the school psychologist about it.
“He doesn’t want to be alone,” Leticia said. “He’s afraid someone might come in and no one is here with him.”
Ever since President Donald Trump came into office, something has shifted in the community, she said. Even a walk to the store now carries a weight it didn’t before. People stay home not out of preference, but because it’s safer that way, even if some, just like Leticia and her siblings, are in the immigration system already.
“I’ve heard in the news that people have been taken even if they have lawyers, even if they entered legally — some even with residency,” Leticia said. “So I just think to myself, we’re here … and only God knows how this will end.”
She said she remembers being a child in Guatemala, sitting next to her father, watching the news about deportations from the United States. At the time, it felt remote.
“I felt sorry for the people on TV,” she said. “But I knew we were OK. It wasn’t happening to us.”
Years later, the roles have reversed.
“Now we’re the ones people see on TV,” she said. “And we’re the ones who are afraid.”
Email Eleonora Bianchi at ebianchi@newbedfordlight.org.
