detained

Last year Johal was acquitted in a case where he was accused of financially supporting the KLF terror group.

He remained in prison because he faces federal charges in eight other cases, for which he potentially faces the death penalty.

However, his legal team argues that these cases are almost identical and that the other charges should be dismissed.

There have been hundreds of hearings over the past nine years and the bail order concludes that the trial is “certainly not likely to conclude anytime soon”.

His brother Gurpreet Singh Johal – who has lobbied successive governments calling for his release – said the decision to grant bail had been a “really important milestone”.

“It is just a first step, but it is a step in the right direction,” he said.

The move was also welcomed by politicians and the legal charities Redress and Reprieve, who represent Johal in the UK.

Reprieve’s deputy executive director Dan Dolan said the release was “a really important moment” – but that Johal still faced the death penalty on “trumped up charges”.

“It is really important that we recognise he’s not out of the woods yet,” he said.

“We now really need to push to get him home.”

Redress said Johal’s release from prison could not undo “the intolerable suffering caused by nine years of arbitrary detention”.

In May, when Samuel Gonzalez Terrones was diagnosed with depression and schizophrenia, he started seeing a therapist and taking medication that he hoped would finally alleviate the dark thoughts that had begun creeping up so frequently he would sometimes seek help by calling the police on himself.

A month later, his mom, Minerva Terrones Dominguez, 54, had just hopped off a bus on her way to a grocery store in San Bernardino when immigration agents arrested her for being in the country illegally. While she languished in detention, the family said, Samuel grew increasingly despondent.

To help pay for an immigration lawyer, his siblings and dad had taken up extra shifts at their jobs. But because Samuel’s condition meant he couldn’t hold a steady job, he spent more and more time alone at home in Rialto.

“My mom was the one who would take care of him when he would have those bad thoughts,” said his older sister Sari Gonzalez, 32. “Everybody would be at work or at school, so my mom was the only one that would be here to calm him down, to say, ‘Your siblings will be here in a bit, just wait.’”

The lawyer, Arturo Burga, had figured out a way to free Minerva from detention and allow her to stay permanently in the U.S. The legal pathway, called cancellation of removal, hinged on proving that her deportation would cause extreme hardship to a U.S. citizen: Samuel.

They never got to file the paperwork.

Samuel Gonzalez Terrones, 21.

(Gonzalez family)

At 3:55 a.m. on Aug. 12, San Bernardino police responded to a railroad crossing. Samuel was pronounced dead at the scene, according to a San Bernardino County coroner’s news release. He was 21.

In a letter Samuel wrote before his death, an excerpt of which was shared with The Times, he talked about his mother’s detention. He said her being taken away by Immigration and Customs Enforcement made him feel like he’d hit “one last wall.”

“To the ICE agent who took away my mother: I hope it was worth it,” Samuel wrote. “I can’t handle anymore injustices in this world.”

Motivations for suicide are often complex and unknowable, and it’s unclear how the Trump administration’s aggressive immigration policies may have moved an immigrant or family member to harm themselves. But immigrant advocates say they have heard of such deaths.

This month, a 20-year-old Haitian man in Springfield, Ohio, walked into oncoming traffic after the Trump administration ended his Temporary Protected Status and ICE fitted him with an ankle monitor.

In May, the Associated Press found that at least 10 detainees had died by suicide since President Trump took office — a pace that far exceeds the growth in the detainee population.

ICE did not respond to requests for comment.

Samuel’s family describes him, the second youngest of seven siblings, as a caring and generous person who, at his best, was quick to laugh, loved chocolate conchas and video games, and dreamed of becoming a graphic designer.

He kept a dark aesthetic, with a lip piercing and nails frequently painted black or red. But he also had a lighter side, Sari said, as evidenced by the Hannah Montana stickers decorating his bedroom wall.

When the siblings were younger, they worked out together and would challenge each other to see how many pull-ups they could do. They liked hanging out at a skate park, laughing as he guided Sari’s small dog, Polar, down a rail on a board.

His mental health struggles started in 2021, when he was a freshman at Cajon High School. Little by little, he lost his passion for the gym, Sari said, and everything else.

An undated photo of Samuel Gonzalez Terrones.

(Gonzalez family)

Sari said she and her siblings each played a different role in helping Samuel through his struggles. He and his younger sister played video games. Sari would talk to him about adulthood. Their older brother would take him to church. On good days, their father would bring him along to landscaping jobs.

“He really did try to get better,” she said. “He held on for a really long time, and I’m proud of him for being so strong.”

The day Minerva was detained, Samuel and Sari were at home.

According to a federal court petition seeking Minerva’s release from ICE custody, federal agents stopped her, said she “looked like someone” they were seeking and mocked her when they found her EBT card while searching her belongings.

Minerva has lived in the U.S. for 33 years, had never been arrested or convicted of a crime and had never been in removal proceedings, according to her lawyer.

Sari said an ICE agent called her and said she had an hour to pick up her mother’s things from the agency’s local office and to say goodbye before ICE moved her to a detention center.

Samuel was inconsolable. “I’ve never seen him cry like that,” Sari said.

Sari took up extra hours at the plastics factory where she works as a machine operator. On Sundays, her only day off each week, she would take Samuel and their youngest sister to visit their mom at the Adelanto ICE Processing Center. The drive was 45 minutes without traffic, but they’d always arrive three hours early to join other families on the wait list to see loved ones.

On the way to the facility, Samuel was visibly happy. But on the way home, Sari said, all would be crying.

Friends and relatives attend the graveside service for Samuel Gonzalez Terrones.

(Gina Ferazzi/Los Angeles Times)

The extra expense of legal representation left the family struggling to pay for bills and food. In the evenings, Samuel stopping spending time with his siblings and retreated to his bedroom.

Burga, the lawyer, alerted ICE of Samuel’s death via email and requested Minerva’s emergency release under humanitarian grounds. He said the ICE deportation officer who replied struck a softer tone than usual, offering sincere condolences to the family.

“Our office was devastated,” said Amber Burga, executive director of the law firm. “I thought to myself, it takes somebody committing suicide for them to have compassion.”

Sari waited two weeks to tell Minerva. She waited, in part, because her mom had an upcoming court hearing and she didn’t want grief to cloud her thinking.

Sari was given 10 minutes in a visitation room to break the news about Samuel’s death to her mother.

“It was just me, my aunt and the officer who was watching,” she said. “When I told her, they wouldn’t even let me hug her while my mom was crying. They told me, ‘You can’t hug her. You can’t touch her.’”

Three days later, on Aug. 31, a federal judge — who didn’t know about Samuel’s death — issued an order granting her petition for release from detention, finding that she had been held illegally “based solely on DHS’s mistake.”

In her ruling, U.S. District Judge Brianna Fuller Mircheff wrote that when Minerva was detained, another federal judge had already declared it unlawful for Homeland Security to require mandatory detention for people who, like her, had entered the U.S. illegally.

Minerva had been arrested without a warrant, and an immigration judge had not determined whether she was a flight risk or a danger to the public.

Referring to Minerva and similar cases, Mircheff wrote, “Hundreds, if not thousands of individuals were held without process that was owed to them.”

Lawyers for the federal government had argued that Minerva could simply wait until she had been detained for six months, at which point she’d be entitled to a bond hearing, court records show. That suggestion didn’t fly with Mircheff, either.

“It is beyond cruel to suggest that this Court would let her sit in custody another four months,” she wrote.

Minerva is still in deportation proceedings. Without Samuel, she no longer qualifies for the legal pathway her lawyers had built a case around. Sari said she’s now considering joining the U.S. military to access the immigration benefits available for undocumented parents of enlisted members.

The family started a fundraiser to cover the cost of Samuel’s funeral.

Samuel’s parents, siblings, and a few dozen other family members and friends arrived on Sept. 22 at noon to bury him at the Rialto Park Cemetery. Each person held a white, long-stemmed rose.

Sari sobbed. Minerva looked on at the black casket holding her youngest boy, the goofball who loved his family, the one who had longed for her support while she was detained.

Times staff photographer Gina Ferazzi contributed to this report.

Tunis, Tunisia – For nine-year-old Yassar Naouar, visiting his father in prison has become an exercise in staying strong. He tries not to cry in front of Wael, fearing that seeing his son in tears would make an already painful situation harder for him. After leaving the prison, Yassar finds a corner where he can finally let the tears fall.

Hichem Naouar, Yassar’s grandfather, says the boy has changed since his father was detained. He now sleeps beside his mother after waking up screaming at night and his results at school have worsened. When Yassar told his mother that other children kept asking whether his father was a thief, she asked him what he thought.

“Never,” the nine-year-old replied.

Wael’s youngest child, four-year-old Sumud, is too young to understand why her father is in prison. Hichem says he took her to visit him. When she saw her father behind the glass, she leaned forward to embrace him, only to hit her head against the barrier.

Hichem spoke to Al Jazeera on Wednesday outside the Tunis Court of Appeal, where he had gone to follow the latest challenge to Wael’s detention. He repeatedly choked up as he described what he had seen during his most recent visit.

Wael was sitting with his hand against his cheek, his father said, his elbow trembling and his gaze fixed in the distance. He was struggling to see clearly and to keep water down without vomiting. He was dizzy and had difficulty controlling his left leg. Wael later told Hichem that other prisoners had said he sometimes wakes during the night calling out his youngest daughter’s name.

For his father, however, Wael’s story is also about the kind of person he has been. He recalled an incident during the Sumud land convoy in Libya in May, when armed men tried to kidnap another participant. Wael intervened, pulled the man away and helped him escape before returning to the men and telling them they could take him instead.

During the first Sumud flotilla, a female fell into the sea and was close to drowning. Wael immediately jumped in and rescued her.

“Wael’s strength is in the strength of his ideas and in his commitment to his people. Whenever he heard about any injustice against workers or employees, you would always find him at the forefront,” Hichem said.

The case and its wider fallout

Wael, 41, began a hunger strike on August 16 to protest his continued detention and was transferred to hospital as his condition deteriorated. He suspended his strike after 38 days following appeals from his lawyers and supporters, saying the decision did not mean abandoning his demands.

Four activists, Wael Naouar, Ghassan Henchiri, Ghassan Boughdiri and Nabil Channoufi, have been held since March following an investigation by Tunisia’s Economic and Financial Judicial Pole, a specialised body that handles financial and economic crimes. The investigation concerns alleged financial irregularities linked to fundraising for the Global Sumud Flotilla, an international campaign seeking to deliver aid to Gaza and challenge Israel’s blockade of the Palestinian territory.

The state-owned TAP news agency, citing judicial sources, reported that investigators are examining the origin and use of funds collected for the flotilla and whether any were diverted for other purposes. The activists and their defence team have repeatedly denied wrongdoing and maintain their innocence. None of the four has been convicted.

For their lawyers, the issue is also why the men should remain in prison while the investigation continues.

Ghassan Ghribi, a member of the defence committee, described the latest extension of their pretrial detention as an “exception to the exception”, arguing that freedom should be the rule and detention the exception. The four-month extension was ordered on September 11 and the defence challenged the decision before the Court of Appeal in Tunis.

“The investigating judge spent six months on the case without carrying out any investigative work, other than questioning the activists,” Ghribi told Al Jazeera. He said the extension should be based on clear reasons and that the four men were being made to pay the price for what he described as a lack of investigative work.

The Court of Appeal rejected the challenge on Wednesday, leaving the quartet in pretrial detention for another four months while the investigation continues. Henchiri, Boughdiri and Channoufi remain on hunger strike.

Authorities have presented the case as a financial investigation into the handling of funds raised for the flotilla, rather than a prosecution linked to the men’s political or pro-Palestinian activities. The government has rejected accusations that the judiciary is being used to silence opponents, saying the judiciary is independent and that legal proceedings are conducted according to the law.

The fallout has also widened beyond the four men. Fourteen people detained after the September 19 protest calling for their release have since been placed in pretrial detention, lawyer Rafed Rabbeh confirmed to Al Jazeera on Friday. Among them is a 17-year-old who was brought before a juvenile judge. Tunisia’s Child Protection Code says priority should be given to preventive and educational measures and that pretrial detention should be avoided as much as possible for children.

Rabbeh said the detainees face several charges, including participating in a gathering allegedly intended to disturb public order and commit an offence, publicly attributing unlawful acts to a public official without proof, and making public statements deemed to damage the reputation of a person or official body. The charges are based on several provisions of Tunisia’s Penal Code.

The toll on those left behind

Speaking by phone from Gafsa, Ghassan Henchiri’s father, Sebti, said his son remains conscious but is visibly exhausted after being on hunger strike since September 9.

“According to what his sister told me after visiting him, he is still holding up. The fatigue is visible. He is exhausted, but he is still conscious,” Sebti said.

Ghassan has not been taken outside the prison for further medical examination of a head injury sustained during his detention in Israel, Sebti told Al Jazeera. Ghassan and his family have raised the issue with both the prison administration and investigating judge. They were promised that he would receive the necessary medical examinations, but that has not happened, Sebti said.

“It could be a superficial injury, but with the conditions in prison and the high temperatures, it has exhausted him,” he said.

Ghassan also has other health problems, including living with one kidney and suffering from back problems, Sebti said. He has developed a skin rash that keeps him from sleeping, but his request to see a dermatologist was rejected because the prison doctor did not consider it serious, Sebti said.

“I will remain steadfast, I will not give up my right and these malicious accusations are false,” Ghassan told his father.

“He is my son, my brother, my companion, my whole life,” Sebti said. “Ghassan is a man of integrity. I am not saying that because I am his father. Everyone knows that about him.”

Ghassan’s detention has also reshaped family life. He had been working at a high school and was recently engaged, Sebti said.

He described Ghassan’s political commitment as something rooted in the family. He has been involved in student activism and later trade unions since 1978, campaigning for freedom, the right to organise and a better, more dignified life for Tunisians. Ghassan grew up with those principles and was influenced by his father’s activism.

“This is what Ghassan was raised on and what influenced him,” Sebti said.

Human Rights Watch has also raised concerns over the use of financial and money-laundering investigations against civil society actors in Tunisia.

For the Naouar and Henchiri families, the impact of the detentions is being felt at home, in prison visits, anxious phone calls and children asking when their fathers will return.

Yassar still asks about his father and has told his grandfather he is ready to go on hunger strike too.

Asked where her father is, four-year-old Sumud answers: “Palestine. Prison”.

“Home Improvement” teen heartthrob of yore Jonathan Taylor Thomas spent the night in jail for allegedly getting unruly with police after a night of drinking.

The 45-year-old actor was detained by the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department and taken to the Malibu/Lost Hills station in Agoura Hills shortly after midnight on Monday, according to Sheriff’s Department booking records.

Thomas’ trip to the slammer stemmed from a traffic stop that went awry in Westlake Village. He was the passenger in the car and exited the vehicle after a police officer told him to stay inside, according to TMZ. The outlet reported that Thomas was allegedly inebriated, refused the officer’s instructions and did not cooperate.

Arrest records show that the “Lion King” star was booked at the station on a felony-level charge, with total bail set at $0, which can be a temporary holding classification used during the initial intake before a prosecutor or district attorney formally evaluates the case.

Thomas spent the night in jail, but police let him go Tuesday afternoon, with records indicating that no formal criminal complaint was filed and the incident was reclassified as a detention only, rather than an arrest, which should wipe the arrest from the actor’s official record.

Thomas, perhaps best known for starring in the beloved 1990s sitcom “Home Improvement” opposite Tim Allen, also voiced Simba in Disney’s “The Lion King” and starred in other ’90s family films, including “Man of the House” and “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”

After a decade of starring roles and magazine covers, Thomas stepped away from the limelight to focus on school, and attended Harvard, Columbia and the University of St. Andrews in Scotland.

“I’d been going nonstop since I was 8 years old,” he told People in 2013. “I wanted to go to school, to travel and have a bit of a break.”

Sept. 21, 2026 12:45 PM PT

AUSTIN, Texas — A Venezuelan man shot by a U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement officer was in custody Monday at an ICE detention center in Texas after he was released from a hospital with a bullet still lodged in his back, according to a spokesperson for the man’s attorney.

Wilber Rafael Garces Perez, 28, was making a DoorDash delivery in Austin, the state capital, on Sunday before he was shot during a traffic stop, said Fabiana Meléndez Ruiz, a spokesperson for immigration attorney Kate Lincoln-Goldfinch.

Ruiz said Perez called his wife around 12:30 p.m. Sunday to tell her that he had been shot. She said Perez’s wife hasn’t spoken with him since then.

Perez was being detained at the South Texas ICE Processing Center in Pearsall, about 130 miles southwest of Austin, Ruiz told the Associated Press. She said Lincoln-Goldfinch spoke by phone with Perez, who told her that he was being interrogated while a bullet remained in his back. Perez also said he had no pain medication, according to Ruiz.

The Department of Homeland Security, which oversees ICE, has released little information and has not said what prompted the shooting. In a statement early Monday, the department said it was investigating the shooting of a Venezuelan man in the U.S. illegally who “had a final order of removal.”

Perez is an asylum seeker and entered the United States through a parole program, and he has no criminal history, Ruiz said.

“Regardless of his status, the use of force was unwarranted,” Ruiz said. “As far as we understand, he was here legally.”

The shooting occurred amid a surge in ICE enforcement across the U.S. during President Trump’s second term. During the summer, it reported more than 50,000 monthly arrests in July and August — a first for the agency.

Immigration officers have come under intense scrutiny amid a series of shootings during the crackdown. At least four people have been fatally shot by federal officers during immigration enforcement operations this year.

Austin Police Chief Lisa Davis told reporters Sunday that the shooting occurred after a traffic stop. She said local police were not involved. Local officials said the man was shot once in the torso and had been hospitalized in serious but stable condition.

Perez’s wife and attorney were unable to get information on his condition from the hospital Sunday until hospital attorneys told them about 6 p.m. that he had been discharged 90 minutes earlier, Ruiz said.

She said ICE had not confirmed any information to Lincoln-Goldfinch, who used legal databases and other means to discover where he was being detained.

Austin Mayor Kirk Watson said Sunday he wants local police to have a role in investigating the shooting. Watson said it wouldn’t be appropriate for ICE to investigate on its own.

At the scene of the shooting, a dark blue Toyota Corolla was parked under an overpass with damage to its passenger-side door and what appeared to be bullet holes before it was towed away Sunday evening.

About 100 anti-ICE protesters gathered Sunday in the shooting’s aftermath.

Wilder and Bedayn write for the Associated Press. AP writer Russ Bynum in Savannah, Ga., contributed to this report.

The family of a Scottish Sikh activist who has been locked up in India for almost nine years without conviction have said he has been granted bail.

Jagtar Singh Johal, from Dumbarton, was arrested in 2017 in connection with alleged terror offences.

He was arrested for his alleged role in a series of targeted killings of religious and political figures.

His family said they were still waiting for the details of what will happen next but are “relieved” by the Indian court’s decision.

The 39-year-old was acquitted last year in a case in which he was accused of financially supporting terror group the Khalistan Liberation Force (KLF), which has carried out attacks in the Punjab region.

But he still faces federal charges lodged by the Indian authorities.

Johal’s imprisonment was recognised by a UN panel as arbitrary detention in 2022 and he has claimed to have been tortured.

Indian authorities have previously denied the torture claim and have repeatedly maintained due process is being followed.

He was arrested in the Punjab region just weeks after his wedding in the country.

His supporters say he was targeted for blogging about alleged human rights abuses against the Sikh community in India and was coerced into signing a false confession to participation in the killings.

His brother Gurpreet Singh Johal has lobbied successive governments calling for his brother’s release.