Last month, I got a call I’d feared since I started interviewing an Army combat veteran inside an immigration detention center in Wisconsin in 2017. The family of Miguel Perez Jr. told me he died unexpectedly in October while visiting family in Mexico.
Miguel fought his deportation case for over a year before being deported in 2018.
During President Donald Trump’s immigration crackdown during his first term, Miguel’s was the lone immigration story I covered with a happy ending — coming back home after deportation. Fellow immigrant veterans, his family and friends vowed not to leave him behind.
Miguel was born in Guadalajara, Mexico, and adopted by Chicago. His struggle garnered national headlines, which advocates used to successfully lobby Gov. JB Pritzker to issue a pardon for his drug conviction. That cleared the way for him to become a U.S. citizen and return home in 2019.
When he returned, Miguel became a skillful storyteller, using his voice to advocate for other deported veterans.
His father invited me to a Veterans Day celebration at Manuel Perez Jr. Plaza in Little Village, where his son was honored and to Miguel’s military funeral at the Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery.
On Tuesday, I watched elected officials offer gifts to Miguel’s family. U.S. Rep. Jesus “Chuy” Garcia presented the family with an American flag. U.S. Sen. Tammy Duckworth shared a framed photo she took with Miguel in her Washington, D.C., office.
“Miguel responded to extreme hardship with courage and determination,” Duckworth told the audience. “He took responsibility for his mistake. He paid his dues to society, and he dedicated himself to serve his fellow immigrant veterans who have been left behind by the country they were willing to defend with their lives. If you sign up to fight for this country, you should be able to count on your country fighting for you, too.”
Duckworth has a history of fighting for Miguel. In 2019, she celebrated Veterans Day in Tijuana, Mexico, with him and dozens of other deported veterans.
“He could have been bitter after what he was forced to endur, but that wasn’t who Miguel was,” she said. “No, instead, he chose to continue fighting for this country. This country that had betrayed him. He turned around to continue his service advocating for his fellow immigrant veterans.”
Duckworth said Miguel inspired a package of bills she has introduced in every Congress since 2017. The bills aim to prevent deporting U.S. military veterans and to allow deported veterans to obtain visas so they can access medical services in the United States.
Miguel’s deportation could have been avoided. During his two tours in Afghanistan, former President George W. Bush promised expedited naturalization for active military membes like him. But that did not happen.
Miguel returned home with a traumatic brain injury. His oldest daughter Daycee remembers the difficult transition.
“I noticed that my dad had a lot of paranoia … lots of paranoia,” Daycee said. “He’s, like, ‘Where is that phone? Where’s that ticking from?’ And there’s nothing on. It’s, like, 6 in the morning, and we’re all sleeping. What do you mean you’re hearing a ticking? I witnessed a lot of things.”
The 28-year old spent her teenage years without her father. Having a father crippled by PTSD forced her to grow up quickly. She told me she forgave him. She shared stories of how close they were, how they used humor, their common language, to bridge the gap and how they feasted on burgers from Maxwell’s.
“He was young when he had me,” she said. “We were raising each other.”
Miguel sought help. But his injuries weren’t physical. They weren’t as visible as those of other veterans around him at the veterans hospital. He started self-medicating with drugs, which eventually led to a seven-year prison sentence. Though a legal permanent U.S. resident, the felony conviction made him eligible for deportation.
Miguel was deeply traumatized.
When he was deported in March 2018, I was one of the first people he called. He feared returning to a country he left as a boy, and I promised I would visit.
The following year, I traveled to Tijuana, Mexico, and witnessed the depth of his PTSD. I watched him shake uncontrollably and heard about his sleepless nights and demons from war he could feel lurking in the background. He walked around the border city hypervigilant of sudden movement. We sat on his balcony, hearing waves from the nearby Pacific Ocean as he described his struggle, of wanting to die as a way to stop the pain.
During Tuesday’s event, his family’s pain was visible.
“Que voz madurara de nuestros labios que no diga tu muerte
“Tu silencio, el callado dolor de no tenerte,” Miguel’s father recited from a poem.
“What voice emerges from our lips that won’t announce your death.
“Your silence, the invisible pain of having lost you.”
May you rest in peace, Miguel.