Everyone Who Is Gone Is Here: The United States, Central America, and the Making of a Crisis

by Jonathan Blitzer

It was impossible to detain all the families arriving at the border, but government officials believed that detaining a small fraction of them would send a message to Central Americans contemplating a similar trip. The facilities themselves would be set up less like prisons than like barracks. The families could move around the premises, and they’d sleep, a dozen to a room, in spaces with bunk beds, refrigerators, televisions, and telephones. There’d be access to regular medical attention, health screenings, and clothing. But confinement could last months: the government would deny them bond until a judge issued a final ruling on their asylum cases. “I tried to keep it together,” Cecilia Muñoz said later. “That summer was the hardest of my life.” The humanitarian crisis at the border had blindsided her. When she traveled to South Texas with Jeh Johnson, the first child she met was seven. After being briefed, she learned that the average age of the minors in custody was twelve. There were babies and toddlers traveling with siblings or neighbors, but not their parents. A mother herself, Muñoz was making policy decisions on behalf of mothers who couldn’t be with their own children to protect them. The burden of responsibility was overpowering.