You're watching Newsday TV.

Thanks for joining us.

I'm Ken Buffa.

Newsday has spent the last three years taking a close look at immigration and the impact it has had on Long Island.

I'm joined by Newsday reporter David Olson and investigative producer Belisa Morillo who has spent some time covering this topic.

So David, I want to start with you.

You spent more than a year with a man and his sons as they tried to navigate the immigration courts.

What was that experience like and what is going on with that family today?

So it's a real window into the immigration system and how it functions and also what's been happening the last few years.

Julio and his two sons arrived in New York in the freezing cold in January 2024 in midtown Manhattan sent from like many many thousands of others on a bus from Texas and the next time I was with him a few weeks later was at an ICE was to show up for an ICE hearing turned away because the line was just so massive he had to return at like 4:30 the next morning and then I followed him for the full year and then to immigration court in November of 2024 where he was given a next court date of December 2027.

Now that illustrates just how backlog the immigration system is.

So many people arriving so many people requesting asylum like him and so currently he's living in Midtown Manhattan still with his two sons in New York City provided housing, a hotel.

Most migrants cannot live in hotels now but because he's with his sons he's allowed to stay there and he's still looking for work as a welder which is what he did in Ecuador.

It's a very interesting story so let's take a look at Julio's story.

Far from the US southern border New York has become central to the story of migrants seeking citizenship and asylum.

The immigration system is complex and convoluted with confusing policies at the federal, state, and local level.

Newsday spent a year following individuals to better understand who they are and illustrate an overwhelmed system that would become central to the presidential election.

(Speaking Spanish) (Speaking Spanish) Julio Zambrano and his two boys began their journey from Ecuador.

It took two months for them to reach the Texas border, where Julio was detained for nearly a week.

He says authorities installed this GPS ankle monitor.

Julio left Texas on a bus to New Jersey and followed a group of other migrants to New York City's Roosevelt Hotel, an intake center where migrants go for temporary housing.

Another migrant who has already obtained refugee status has made his way to Long Island and has been seeking permanent residency there.

Fernando F-E-R-N-A-N-D-O Alonso (Speaking Spanish) Name one American Indian tribe in the United States.

(Speaking Spanish) Fernando achieved refugee status through a nonprofit that helped him escape violence in Honduras.

And now his wife and two children are working for their legal status to change.

Migrants say persecution back home is the driving force for seeking asylum.

Fernando who was a businessman back in Honduras says he was being extorted.

(Speaking Spanish) Zambrano also sought to escape violence at home and decided to take his two sons with him to traverse the Darien Gap, a 60 mile hike from Colombia to Panama.

(Speaking Spanish) In the same shelter as Julio, a single mother of two from Venezuela explains their journey to New York City.

(Speaking Spanish) Most migrants need to find employment once they arrive.

Maria Baez sells candy in the subway while she works to find more stable work.

(Speaking Spanish) Fernando's wife is also anxious to find a job on Long Island.

(Speaking Spanish) On a cold morning January 30th Julio and his two sons walked to Federal Plaza in downtown Manhattan for their first immigration hearing.

His paperwork says the appointment is at 11.

Tomorrow, tomorrow morning, ICE is closed.

Come tomorrow morning, early in the morning, like 4/5.

Bring your family, bring all your family, come in around 6, 6.30, 6.30, come right here.

Despite the Zambranos arriving at their appointment a half hour early, the immigration office turned them away because ICE was overwhelmed with other cases.

(Speaking Spanish) The day Julio and his sons arrived, they were assigned to housing on Canal Street in Chinatown.

28 days later, they were moved to another hotel, this one in the Bronx.

(Speaking Spanish) Newsday has been documenting Julio's journey from his arrival in Manhattan on January 4th, 2024.

He is hoping to establish a normal routine for his children, but has it moved from shelter to shelter.

On the east end of Long Island, some migrants who fail to obtain legal status find work as day laborers while living in tent encampments off beaten paths in wooded areas.

(Speaking Spanish) After another four weeks, Julio is required to leave the Bronx and go back to the Roosevelt Hotel, where he'll be assigned new housing.

(Speaking Spanish) After briefly taking a job in Philadelphia, Julio returned to New York City.

Julio returned to court November 13th, where a judge told him the U.S.

government believes he does not have the right to stay.

The judge complimented Julio for having his paperwork done properly, but then set his next court appearance for December 21st, 2027, three years away.

This demonstrates the backlog of cases in immigration courts.

Julio, though, was relieved that he'll have time to prepare his case.

(Speaking Spanish) Despite New York City's sanctuary laws, the looming threat of deportation remains real, especially as a new presidential administration with hardline anti-illegal immigration policies will soon take office.

Until then, no matter how complex or convoluted the journey has been, Julio and Fernando wait for their fate, while decisions on their legal status are left to the U.S.

immigration system.

(Speaking Spanish) If Julio is deported, he will leave with no regrets.

(Speaking Spanish) So all three of us actually went to El Salvador to meet with these brothers from Long Island that got deported.

So Belisa, what is going on with those two young men today?

So you're talking about Jose and Josue.

These are two brothers who lived here on Long Island.

They went to school here and they went to 26 Federal Plaza where they were picked up and deported.

We met them in December, seven months into this ordeal in El Salvador.

So now, I spoke to them recently and the latest is that Josue, the younger one, is working in a call center, a bilingual call center in El Salvador, which is like two hours away from where they live.

So he has to get up at four o'clock in the morning, you know, get out at five, and then it takes two hours to get there and it's two hours to get back.

So it's very different.

Their lifestyle is very different from when they lived here.

So but their American dream is still on.

They're still hoping to come back.

Great.

Well, let's take a look at their story.

ICE just deported these two brothers from Long Island.

So Newsday got on a plane.

>> We have arrived in El Salvador.

And started banging on doors... Jose and Josue ..in El Salvador.

All to find out what happened.

So what happened?

Well we should probably start at the beginning.

It's 2016.

El Salvador is overrun with gang violence.

And according to statistics, there is more than 5,000 murders per year.

To put that in perspective, that's roughly 14 murders a day, or a murder roughly every two hours.

It's really bad.

So their mother decided to pack up her sons, who were then 10 and 11 years old, and flee to America.

(Speaking Spanish) Now once here, she settled in Georgia and applied for asylum while the boys began their American upbringing.

Jose joined Future Farmers of America with dreams of becoming a mechanic and preacher since he went to church several times a week.

And Josue joined JROTC with his sights on joining the Air Force to serve the United States.

They were pursuing their American dreams.

Fast forward to 2025 when everything changed.

The brothers have now grown up.

Jose, 21.

And Josue, 20.

And in a time in the United States, their mother gave birth to a third son.

A son born with multiple disabilities.

So what do the boys, now young men, do?

Well, they decide to move to Central Islip, just those two, so they can find work and help pay bills for their mom and their disabled brother.

And that's when things started unraveling.

The boys show up to their ICE check-in, much like they've been doing since they've entered the country roughly 10 years ago.

But this time, it's different.

Times are different.

All ICE wants to do is get them out of our country.

Take off the mask.

You feel so confident.

They gave us a paper that it said like that we have to show it to the 26th federal plaza in the first 30 days.

And we did it.

When he was doing all the paperwork, he looked at me and he gave me my papers.

He was like, "Good luck."

And I was like, Dude, since I came to this country, I had eyes checking since 2016.

Never an ICE officer had told me good luck.

Never, never, never.

The brothers were then asked for their immigration documents.

He told us, "Hey guys, come.

Well, you too, come with me."

He was like, "You're going to see, like right now, you're going to see right here."

That was me.

And my brother was going to see where she is right now, right?

It's like separated.

And we were like, "Oh, maybe they're gonna interview us, ask questions."

When I sat down, they closed the curtain.

He told me, "Hey, you're now being detained and you're going to be put in removal proceedings."

And I heard the handcuffs and I was like, "Dude, there's no way that I'm about to get detained."

And yeah, he told me to get up.

He put my hands on the back and he detained me right there.

I saw my brother handcuffs.

I was like, "Wait, wait, wait, wait, what's going on?"

I look at him like, "Man, why?"

(Speaking Spanish) Their brothers were detained and their deportation journey has now just begun.

And as they were hauled away, they say an ICE agent told another ICE agent, "Thank you.

Thank you for taking these criminals away.

Good job.

Good job taking these criminals away."

while their mother, who was waiting with their youngest brother in the lobby, was told, "Your sons are not bad people.

If you want to get your sons out, get a lawyer.

Get a lawyer as soon as possible."

Their brothers were put in a holding room for nearly 10 hours.

"Everything's made of metal.

Everything's gonna be cold.

Just imagine you're sitting there just standing, just waiting and just freezing."

Then they were put in a van and were sent off to the Buffalo Federal Detention Facility in Batavia.

Now keep in mind, these two brothers have no criminal record, no criminal past.

But where they're going, the other detainees, that's a different story.

If you have a criminal record, you're going to have an orange uniform.

But if you have a felony or something that is really strong, you're going to get a red uniform.

If you have a blue uniform, you have no criminal record.

The brothers stayed in Buffalo for two months, where they read their Bibles and helped translate English written documents to other inmates who did not speak the language.

Then it was time to go.

When you hear that they say "processing" and they start calling names, it's scary.

Because processing can mean two things.

One, you're getting deported.

Or two, you're getting out.

The brothers were deported to El Salvador, a country they have not seen since they were children.

A country where they have zero family and a country that has recently undergone a massive transformation.

In 2019, El Salvador elected a new president, Nayib Bukele, a young politician with sights on cracking down on gangs and violence and making the country safer by any means necessary.

He built a massive prison, the Terrorism Confinement Center, or CICOT.

Some people call him a dictator, while others praise and love what he's done.

However you feel, the country has become safer.

No more dead bodies littering streets, far less gang activity, armed officials patrolling neighborhoods, and statistically per capita, there are less homicides in El Salvador today than in the US.

The brothers arrive in El Salvador and begin getting processed.

There it was hard for us because they were asking questions about where are you going to stay?

Who are you going to live with?

What's the name of your mother?

What's the name of your father?

I don't know.

Do you have any family members in the country?

I'm like, no, I don't have any.

They were like, so they were thinking to not let us not let us free.

Because we didn't have anyone in here.

Weeks pass and the brothers were able to secure a place to live on the outskirts of San Salvador.

A location where locals say was once heavily occupied by gangs and violence.

[knocking on door] Jose and Josue!

That's where they showed us their place.

If you haven't heard the little noises on the roof, those are cats.

We fixed that pipe you see right there?

Oh I haven't told you but I have some fishes in here.

So back home, when the brothers were first detained, their community banded together.

Holding vigils and demonstrations and donating to a GoFundMe to help with legal fees and necessities.

Money that they say is their lifeline, but is running out.

Oh, you bought the actual stove.

Yeah, we bought the actual stove.

I thought you didn't have a stove.

No, we bought the stove, microwave, we bought coffee, water warmer.

So now that the brothers live alone, they actually have some rules.

One, never answer the door if someone comes knocking.

Two, if the sun is up, you can go out.

And three, if you do go out, you have to travel in pairs.

Never alone, even if it's down the street and around the corner to the store.

We grew up in the United States, so we feel like Americans because we grew up there, went to school, did everything.

I miss my family, miss my little brother.

While in El Salvador, the two say they've missed out on major life events, like Josue, who watched his own high school graduation through a smartphone thousands of miles away.

The good thing is that you graduated, bro.

You did it, man.

Don't cry, man.

So as you can see, these brothers have a pretty tight bond.

But family to them is more than just brothers.

And in fact, they miss a lot of their family, especially one in particular.

Recently I got a news from my grandma.

She's sick, right?

Imagine being in this country and not able to see your grandma.

Since living here, the brothers say they've been holding on to their American roots.

Josue was able to get his gaming console shipped over and uses it to pass time and talk to his childhood friends.

Jose has begun streaming games to try and make money.

And once a week, he holds a digital sermon so he can continue to practice his faith, using his Bible he and his brother received while in the detention center.

I'll go be with you wherever you go.

So I'm here.

He's going to live with us.

Since they both speak Spanish and English, they're trying to find remote jobs at call centers.

While back in the States, their immigration attorney continues to fight to get them home.

Unfortunately, it really is an uphill battle for them because they were removed before they could complete the process.

The hardest part is going through all of this after being separated from your family and knowing that now we are here in this country alone.

Thousands of miles away, the two continue to share their story with U.S.

activists.

They only see us as criminals, but in reality, we are not criminals.

We are just normal people.

And they continue to live in fear.

Yes, some people are criminals.

But look at me and my brother.

We got denied because now we are here in this country.

Not because we did something wrong in the U.S.

(Speaking Spanish) The only thing you can do, stay strong and wait.

We want to go back.

[MUSIC] And thank you so much, Newsday reporter David Olson and Newsday investigative producer Belisa Morillo.

I mean obviously the work here that you're doing is important and is timely so we appreciate you guys really keeping an eye on both these families and these stories for us.

And of course for more coverage like this go to Newsday.com.

I'm Ken Buffa, this is Newsday covering Long Island like no one else can.

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