ICE deported a married couple back to Guatemala who had sought safety in the US. Their bodies have been found tied up and shot, with their 14-month-old daughter left alive beside them.
Published On 29 Jul 202629 Jul 2026
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The Indianapolis Colts took a flyer on an impressive athlete from Kenya 13 years ago, but a story that began with an inspirational backdrop has taken an increasingly familiar turn: Daniel Adongo was deported from the United States last month, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement confirmed.
According to ICE, Adongo, 37, overstayed his visa after his brief NFL career ended in 2015 and he remained in Indiana. The former linebacker and African rugby star was arrested several times over the past nine years for crimes including felony intimidation, battery and disorderly conduct. He also showed signs of mental illness, according to court records.
“This dangerous individual was clearly a threat to the community, which is now safer since he’s been removed,” ICE Chicago Assistant Field Office Director Douglas Thompson said in a statement. “Those who violate immigration law are held equally accountable, including former professional athletes.”
Adongo was released by the Colts after playing in two games in 2013 and three in 2015, mostly on special teams. The team cut ties with him after police were called to a home in Fishers, Ind., to check on a woman who lived with Adongo.
According to a police report, the woman’s friend contacted law enforcement. Adongo was not at the residence at the time, and the woman declined medical assistance. The Hamilton County prosecutor’s office reviewed the case and did not charge Adongo.
However, the 6-foot-5, 260-pound Adongo began exhibiting increasingly erratic behavior. In 2017, an Indiana judge found him mentally incompetent to stand trial in a criminal case in which he was charged with intimidation and criminal mischief and ordered him committed to a state psychiatric hospital for evaluation and observation, according to the Indianapolis Star.
The only crime Adongo has been convicted of is a criminal mischief misdemeanor in 2020 for which he was sentenced to 364 days in jail, according to ICE. Other charges for intimidation, battery and disorderly conduct were dismissed.
Judges twice found Adongo incompetent to stand trial, according to court filings, including one case in which an expert witness testified that Adongo was acutely psychotic and possibly suffered from chronic traumatic encephalopathy — brain trauma — from playing football and rugby.
Members of Adongo’s family described in court filings a dramatic personality change in him after his playing career ended and expressed concern that he struggled to access mental health treatment.
ICE held Adongo without bond for several months under the Laken Riley Act, a federal law signed Jan. 29, 2025, that requires the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) to detain undocumented immigrants without bond when arrested for specific crimes. He was deported one month ago.
Adongo was the first of two Kenyans to play in the NFL. The second was guard Rees Odhiambo, who played in 16 games from 2016 to 2018 for the Seattle Seahawks and Arizona Cardinals.
NASHVILLE — A federal judge on Friday dismissed a human smuggling case against Kilmar Abrego Garcia, finding that the Justice Department’s pursuit of criminal charges was designed to punish him for challenging his mistaken deportation to El Salvador last year.
The ruling amounted to an extraordinary rebuke of a Justice Department that under President Trump has repeatedly been accused of targeting defendants for political purposes. The Trump administration touted the charges against Abrego Garcia last year at a press conference in which then-Atty. Gen. Pam Bondi declared, “This is what American justice looks like.”
“The evidence before this court sadly reflects an abuse of prosecuting power,” U.S. District Judge Waverly Crenshaw, in Nashville, said in his ruling granting Abrego Garcia’s motion to dismiss for “selective or vindictive prosecution.” Without Abrego Garcia’s “successful lawsuit challenging his removal to El Salvador, the government would not have brought this prosecution.”
Abrego Garcia’s deportation became an embarrassment for Trump officials when they were ordered to return him to the U.S. In his motion to dismiss, Abrego Garcia claimed that the timing of the criminal charges and inflammatory statements about him by top Trump officials demonstrated that the prosecution was vindictive.
“Kilmar Abrego Garcia is a victim of a politicized, vindictive White House and its lawyers at what used to be an independent Justice Department,” his criminal defense attorneys said in a statement after Friday’s ruling. “We are so pleased that he is a free man.”
The Justice Department vowed to appeal, calling the judge’s order “wrong and dangerous.”
Crenshaw stopped short of finding the government acted with “actual vindictiveness,” a rarely met standard that usually requires evidence like a prosecutor admitting that charges were filed in retaliation against someone. But the judge did find there was enough evidence of “presumptive vindictiveness” — including the timing of the indictment, statements made by then-U.S. Deputy Aty. Gen. Todd Blanche, and the sustained oversight of the case by other top Justice Department officials — that the case against Abrego Garcia was thoroughly tainted.
The government’s own explanations weren’t convincing, Crenshaw wrote.
Abrego Garcia was charged with human smuggling and conspiracy to commit human smuggling, with prosecutors claiming that he accepted money to transport within the United States people who were in the country illegally.
The charges stem from a 2022 traffic stop in Tennessee for speeding. Body camera footage from a Tennessee Highway Patrol officer shows a calm exchange with Abrego Garcia. There were nine passengers in the car, and the officers discussed among themselves their suspicions of smuggling. However, Abrego Garcia was eventually allowed to continue driving with only a warning.
In the Friday ruling, Crenshaw wrote that the timing of the charges was central to the presumption of vindictiveness. Homeland Security had been aware of the traffic stop for two years and had closed the case against Abrego Garcia when it deported him. Once the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that he should be brought back to the U.S., they reopened the case. While the government bore the responsibility to rebut the presumption of vindictiveness, prosecutors did not call as a witness the person who reopened the case, to explain why. Instead they offered only “secondhand testimony.”
In a statement released by the group We are CASA, which has been supporting Abrego Garcia and his family, he thanked God for the dismissal of the criminal charges.
“Justice is a big word and an even bigger promise to fulfill; and I am grateful that today, justice has taken a step forward,” he said.
Abrego Garcia’s deportation violated a 2019 immigration court order granting him protection from deportation to his home country, after the judge found he faced danger there from a gang that targeted his family. Abrego Garcia is a Salvadoran citizen with an American wife and child who has lived in Maryland for years although he immigrated to the U.S. illegally as a teenager. The 2019 order allowed him to live and work in the U.S. under Immigration and Customs Enforcement supervision, but he was not given residency status.
Meanwhile, Trump administration officials have said Abrego Garcia cannot remain in the U.S. They have vowed to deport him to a third country, most recently Liberia.
Loller writes for the Associated Press.
DAKAR, Senegal — It’s an existence that Congo’s president has described as “living the Congolese dream.” For the 15 Latin Americans deported to the African nation under the Trump administration’s widely criticized crackdown on migrants, it feels more like a nightmare.
The Associated Press spoke with one, a 29-year old Colombian woman who confirmed what people deported to other African nations have described: A shackled deportation despite a U.S. immigration judge’s protection order. Confinement in a hotel with supervised outings.
And an impossible choice: Return to a home country with the risk of persecution or stay in Congo, a country the Colombian woman had never heard of before she arrived.
“They treat us like we’re children,” she said as their three-month Congolese visas near an end, with no plan in sight.
“What would one do in a completely unknown place, without a place to live and without knowing what to do?” she added, speaking on condition of anonymity for fear of reprisals.
It was not immediately clear what a new U.S. court ruling, saying the U.S. likely broke the law by deporting a fellow Colombian to Congo, will mean for her.
In her interview from the hotel in Congo’s capital, Kinshasa, where she and other deportees are held, the woman gave new details about the central role that a United Nations-affiliated body, the International Organization for Migration, is playing.
She said deportees are allowed to leave the hotel about once a week and only accompanied by IOM staff. When they shop at a supermarket or withdraw money they are quickly ushered back to their vehicle, with IOM staff never out of sight.
“They choose where we go and what we buy,” she said.
At the hotel, she said, IOM staff have organized activities like painting, music and volleyball but many deportees have stopped participating, bored with the routine. She goes for meals and remains in her room otherwise, making late-night calls to her 10-year-old daughter in Colombia and worrying when she will see her again.
Most striking is the role IOM staff are playing in presenting deportees with their possible fates.
They have offered the woman two paths: Return to Colombia, where a U.S. judge has ruled she cannot safely be sent back, while receiving IOM “protection and assistance,” or remain in Congo with no support.
“They are given impossible choices,” said Alma David, the woman’s U.S.-based attorney. “By deporting them to a third country with no opportunity to contest being sent there, the U.S. not only violated their due process rights but our own immigration laws and our obligations under international treaties.”
Congo is one of at least eight African countries that have made deals with the Trump administration to facilitate deportations of third-country nationals, which legal experts say are effectively a legal loophole for the U.S. Most deportees had received legal orders of protection from U.S. judges shielding them against being returned to their home countries, lawyers said.
The AP has interviewed others sent to African nations who were forced to make risky decisions, such as a gay Moroccan asylum-seeker deported to Cameroon, a country where homosexuality is illegal.
The U.S. Department of Homeland Security did not respond to questions about the Colombian woman’s case, but it has asserted that third-country deportation agreements “ensure due process under the U.S. Constitution.” The Trump administration says the agreements are needed to “remove criminal illegal aliens” whose country of origin will not take them back.
The details of Congo’s deal with the Trump administration are not clear. Other countries have received millions of dollars to participate.
Earlier this month, Congolese President Félix Tshisekedi called the agreement an “act of goodwill between partners,” with no financial compensation. It comes as Washington has ramped up pressure on neighboring Rwanda over its support for the M23 rebel group that has seized cities in eastern Congo — a dynamic some analysts say may explain Kinshasa’s willingness to take deportees.
“We agreed to do so as a friendly gesture, simply because it was what the Americans wanted,” Tshisekedi said, adding that the migrants are free to leave Congo at any time.
“We understand that psychologically they must be unsettled because, at first, they dreamed of living the American dream, and now they are living the Congolese dream — in a country they probably did not know and may never even have noticed on a map of the world,” Tshisekedi said.
Congolese human rights groups have called it a violation of international refugee law. The Congo-based Institute for Human Rights Research described the situation as “arbitrary detention by proxy for the United States.”
The current U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement policy says if a government has made blanket diplomatic assurances that it won’t persecute people who are deported, no further process is required for deportation, not even giving deportees notice where they are being sent, said David, the attorney.
“When they told me they were going to deport me, I almost fainted,” the Colombian woman said. She was told about Congo the day before the flight.
She said she left Colombia in 2024, following threats from armed groups and abuse by a former partner who worked for the government.
She went to Mexico, where she waited for a border appointment booked with the U.S. government. When she presented herself at an Arizona port of entry in September 2024, immigration officials determined she had a credible fear of persecution, clearing her to apply for asylum, but kept her in ICE detention.
“You spend a year and a half locked up, living the same day over and over again. You see fights, punishments where people are locked in cells for many hours. You lose your privacy even to use the bathroom,” she said.
Some officers made racist remarks. “They made derogatory comments toward us as migrants, shouted at us all the time and sometimes denied basic things like showers as punishment,” she said.
In May 2025, a federal judge granted her protection under the U.N. Convention Against Torture, ruling she could not be safely returned to Colombia, according to court documents seen by the AP.
She filed a habeas corpus petition and won her release in February. She moved to Texas and was required to wear a GPS monitoring device, but at her first check-in appointment with ICE, she was detained again.
“All they told me was that I was under detention, as they had found a third country for me,” she said.
Less than three weeks later, she was put on a plane to Congo. She and the other deportees arrived on April 17 after a nearly 24-hour charter flight during which their hands and feet were restrained.
Now they stay at a hotel near Kinshasa’s airport, in tidy white bungalows. Congo’s government covers the cost, the IOM said. It was not clear whether that would last after the deportees’ visas run out.
The hotel gates are locked according to one of the deportees lawyers. The Colombian woman also said security personnel do not let them leave on their own.
They were told they could apply for asylum, an option no one has chosen. “I don’t feel safe in Congo,” the woman said.
An IOM spokesperson said the organization has provided her with humanitarian assistance based on an assessment of her vulnerability. It includes “protection interventions, referrals, rights safeguarding and promotion of migrants’ overall well-being,” with no details.
The IOM also may offer “assisted voluntary return” — covering documents, flights, transit and temporary housing on arrival — with migrants’ consent.
The IOM said it plays no role in determining who is deported and reserves the right to withdraw its assistance for deportees if “minimum protection standards” aren’t met.
The Colombian woman remains in limbo, anxious. She said the food “has made us very sick,” with stomach ailments ongoing.
Local languages, like French and Lingala, are as foreign as her surroundings.
“The worst part is having to go through all of that without having committed any crime, simply for going to another country to ask for safety and protection.”
Banchereau writes for the Associated Press.
A federal judge has ordered the Trump administration to bring a Colombian woman back to the U.S. from Congo, after she was deported to the African nation that had refused to accept her.
The deportation of Adriana Maria Quiroz Zapata “was likely illegal,” U.S. District Judge Richard J. Leon ruled Wednesday.
Zapata, 55, who has diabetes and a thyroid condition, “has been sent to a country that refused to accept her because they cannot provide sufficient medical care,” the ruling said. “As a result, she faces a daily risk of medical complications, up to and including death.”
Black spots began to grow on Zapata’s back and foot while she was in detention, her skin started to peel and her nails blackened, according to a declaration that Zapata submitted in court, and which was provided to the AP by her lawyer.
“She’s not doing well and does worry that she’s going to die,” her lawyer, Lauren O’Neal, said.
Zapata entered the U.S. from Mexico in August 2024 and was taken into Immigration and Customs Enforcement custody. Since being deported, she has lived in a hotel in Kinshasa, Congo’s capital. The hotel gates are locked, O’Neal said. Zapata and other deportees are rarely allowed out, and only with supervision, she said.
Zapata was among thousands of immigrants living legally in the U.S., waiting for rulings on asylum claims, when they were suddenly issued deportation decrees that ordered them expelled to countries where most had no connections.
More than 15,000 third-country deportation orders were issued in the White House push for ever more immigrant expulsions, advocacy groups say, though only a fraction of the orders have been carried out.
Few details are known about the agreements to accept these deportees, though the U.S. has signed them with a range of countries, including Ecuador, Honduras, Uganda, Cameroon and Congo. Advocacy groups estimate only a couple of hundred third-country deportations, at most, have been carried out.
Galofaro writes for the Associated Press.