This report is part of “Upheaval Across America,” an examination of immigration enforcement under the second Trump administration produced by Carnegie-Knight News21. For more stories, visit https://upheaval.news21.com/
JACKSONVILLE — When Juan and Madison Pestana went on their first date in 2023, Juan vowed to always keep a bouquet of fresh flowers on the kitchen table. For nearly two years — throughout their whirlwind courtship and eventual marriage — he did exactly that.
Then immigration agents showed up outside the couple’s Miami apartment.
Juan, originally from Caracas, Venezuela, was taken into custody on May 9, despite having no criminal record. Immigration authorities say he is in the country unlawfully. His wife, a U.S. citizen, says he unknowingly overstayed his visa after the couple used an unscrupulous notary to file his green card application.
“I am living my worst nightmare,” said Madison, who has since moved to Jacksonville and started a surgical residency. She lives alone, works 90-hour weeks and drives more than 300 miles to and from a detention center in Broward County every weekend to visit her husband.
They’re not allowed to embrace more than twice during each visit.
“What’s happening right now is not justice,” she said. “This is just inhumane.”
Madison Pestana holds an iPad showing a photo of her and husband Juan Pestana. Originally from Venezuela, Juan was detained over an expired visa and has been in immigration detention since May. (Lee Ann Anderson/News21)
On the campaign trail, President Donald Trump promised safety and security. He promised that changes to immigration policy would target criminals. And in November, when he won a second term as president, some of his supporters were immigrants themselves.
Today, some 60,000 people are being held in immigration detention — a 51% increase since January, according to the nonprofit Transactional Records Access Clearinghouse.
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About 70% of those detained have no criminal record, TRAC says. Many others have convictions for offenses as minor as a traffic violation.
“Even though a lot of the rhetoric was, ‘Let’s get the criminals out of the U.S.’ — that’s not actually what’s happening,” said New York immigration lawyer Pouyan Darian. “What’s happening is all immigrants are being heavily scrutinized.”
The result, advocates argue, is an unprecedented attack on immigrants from all walks of life and living in the U.S. under all kinds of circumstances.
Madison Pestana video chats with her husband, Juan, on June 23, 2025, in Neptune Beach. The Venezuelan immigrant has been held in detention since May, though he is married to a U.S. citizen and has a green card application pending. (Lorenzo Gomez/News21)
The administration has terminated Temporary Protected Status for hundreds of thousands of people and revoked hundreds of visas for immigrant students. Trump issued an executive order denying citizenship to anyone born on American soil to women either in the country illegally Or here legally under a visa, if the father is not a U.S. citizen or green card holder.
The administration also wants to vastly expand its power to denaturalize those who have become U.S. citizens.
For immigrant communities across the country, the result is a climate of fear where even legal compliance offers no guarantee of protection.
In one case, 18-year-old Guatemalan Ernesto Manuel-Andres was detained weeks after graduating high school during a June 4 raid in Bowling Green, Kentucky. He is in the U.S. under “special immigrant juvenile” status, which is granted to children who have been abused, neglected or abandoned.
Beginning in 2022, immigrants with that status were protected from deportation until a visa became available. On June 6, the Trump administration rescinded that protection.
“I feel like they’re testing the limits of the law — they’re trying to see who they can take in,” said Luma Mufleh, founder of the educational nonprofit Fugees Family. Mufleh helped fight for Manuel-Andres’ release on bond.
“This really just forces people into the shadows,” said Laila Ayub, an immigration attorney and co-founder of Project ANAR, an Afghan immigration justice organization. “That is what the consequence is of these policies.”
In the small Florida town of Wimauma, the Ambrocio family is reeling from the ramifications of the administration’s policies.
Maurilio Amizael Ambrocio, the family’s patriarch, is an evangelical pastor from Guatemala who, since 2018, had led the small congregation of Iglesia de Santidad Vida Nueva.
“He’s not only our father, but he’s also our pastor, a spiritual leader for us,” said his daughter, Ashley, one of Ambrocio’s five children — all American citizens.
Members of Iglesia de Santidad Vida Nueva attend a June 29, 2025, service on June 29 in Wimauma. Maurilio Amizael Ambrocio served as a pastor at the church until he was detained in April. He has since self-deported to Guatemala. (Lee Ann Anderson/News21)
Ambrocio first came to the U.S. at 15, to escape a gang trying to recruit young boys in his hometown of Cuilco, Guatemala. Although he was under an immigration removal order, he had a stay that had allowed him to remain in the country, his family said.
For nearly 10 years, Ambrocio regularly attended Immigration and Customs Enforcement check-ins without a problem. That all changed in April, when he was detained at one of those appointments.
Ambrocio chose to self-deport instead of lingering in detention. Back in Guatemala now, he has been preaching at churches near his hometown of Cuilco and wants to open a tortilla business to keep himself afloat.
When Ashley turns 21, she plans to sponsor her father’s return to the United States.
“My father deserves to be here,” she said. “Coming here for a better future isn’t a crime.”
Ashley Ambrocio speaks with her father, Maurilio Amizael Ambrocio, by phone at Iglesia de Santidad Vida Nueva on June 29, 2025, in Wimauma. Ambrocio, husband, father of five children and a pastor at the church, was detained in April and has since self-deported to Guatemala. (Lee Ann Anderson/News21)
Juan Pestana also had hopes of a better future when he came to the U.S. in 2021. He filed for asylum, obtained a work permit and launched a construction business – designing and building fences and pergolas. Then he met the love of his life.
“I made this country mine,” he told News21.
Last fall, the Pestanas decided to submit paperwork to get Juan his green card and paid $5,000 for legal help. In April, Madison learned the application had been denied because it was completed incorrectly. She refiled everything on her own. Juan, nevertheless, was detained.
Many detainees, like Juan, were in the middle of adjusting their status, caught up in a system riddled with scams and a court backlog of more than 3 million cases — with more than 500,000 of those in Florida, statistics show.
“We tried to do this the legal way,” Madison said. “People need to know that this could happen to their husbands or their wives. This is not just criminals.”
The Ambrocio children pose for a portrait on June 29, 2025, in Wimauma. From left are Ashley, 20; Esdras, 12; Reily, 16; Adbeem, 14; and Derlin, 18. Their father, Maurilio Amizael Ambrocio, was detained in April after a decade of regular immigration check-ins. He has since self-deported to Guatemala. (Lorenzo Gomez/News21)
If Juan isn’t granted permission to remain in the U.S., he plans to self-deport to Portugal because he fears being persecuted in Venezuela. Madison then would have to decide whether to follow her husband — or stay behind to complete her residency.
For the Pestanas, the consequences are personal and debilitating.
“I feel like the world is on fire outside,” Madison said, “and all I want is my husband to walk through it with me.”
