On November 9, 2025, the streets of Miami buzzed with a familiar tension as agents from U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), joined by state authorities, arrested Rolquis Torres Ricardo at his home. Torres Ricardo, a Cuban national, carried a criminal record that included child sexual abuse and domestic violence, according to ICE statements posted on X. The arrest was not just another routine operation; it was a flashpoint in a much larger, emotionally charged debate about immigration, public safety, and the deepening political rifts within the Latino community—especially among Cuban Americans in South Florida.
After his arrest, Torres Ricardo was transferred to the Alligator Alcatraz detention center deep in the Everglades, where he now awaits deportation. His case is not isolated. Just days earlier, ICE had apprehended another Cuban, Jorge Muñiz García, at the same facility. García’s criminal history, as reported by ICE, includes attempted homicide, robbery with violence, and breaking and entering. Both men’s detentions are emblematic of the U.S. government’s intensified policy under President Donald Trump’s administration, a campaign branded as “The Worst of the Worst.” This initiative aims to locate and deport immigrants with criminal records, especially those deemed a threat to public safety.
But as the machinery of enforcement grinds forward, the process for deporting Cuban nationals remains anything but straightforward. The government in Havana has long refused to accept citizens with criminal backgrounds or those who left Cuba before the 2017 immigration agreements. This bureaucratic standoff has forced U.S. authorities, in some cases, to send Cubans with final deportation orders to third countries—often at great risk to the deportees themselves.
The latest deportation flight to Cuba left the U.S. on November 6, 2025, returning 232 irregular migrants to the island. Of those, three are reportedly under investigation for crimes allegedly committed before leaving Cuba, according to Cuba’s Ministry of the Interior. With this operation, the total number of Cubans deported from the U.S. in 2025 has reached 1,231—a figure that already surpasses the levels seen during the previous administration and underscores the Trump administration’s tougher stance on immigration enforcement.
These crackdowns are not happening in a vacuum. They’re unfolding against a backdrop of fierce debate and mounting polarization within the Latino community, particularly among Cuban Americans. The intensity of this division was laid bare when, on the same day as Torres Ricardo’s arrest, CiberCuba published an article titled “Latinos Turn Their Backs on Trump: Only 1 in 4 Approve, Florida Holds Its Breath for 2026.” In less than 24 hours, the post had racked up more than 2,100 comments on Facebook, making it the most discussed topic on the outlet’s page. The sheer volume and passion of the responses spoke volumes about the emotional stakes for Cuban Americans and the broader Latino electorate.
The online dialogue quickly transformed from a discussion of poll numbers to a battleground for identity, belonging, and political loyalty. According to CiberCuba’s analysis, approximately 65-70% of the comments staunchly defended Trump, often framing him as a bulwark against communism and a defender of freedom. “Cubans know what it’s like to live under a dictatorship. That’s why we support someone who defends freedom and order,” wrote one participant. Others dismissed the polling data outright, with comments like, “Those polls are fake, who did they survey? I’ve never been asked anything,” and “This is Democrat propaganda; we Cubans stand with Trump until the end.”
Anticommunist rhetoric was a recurring theme, with several users equating the Democratic Party with Cuban socialism and lauding Trump’s “tough stance” against Havana’s regime. “Florida will remain red, the Latinos working in this country support Trump,” declared another, echoing the sentiment that the Sunshine State would remain a Republican stronghold.
Yet, amid the outpouring of support, a significant minority pushed back. About 25-30% of comments criticized Trump, focusing on his administration’s immigration policies, the rising cost of living, and what they saw as divisive rhetoric. Many of these critics described feelings of regret and betrayal. “I voted for him and regret it. He promised to deport criminals, but he’s just separating families and locking up hardworking people,” lamented one user. Another wrote, “He deceived us. He talked about protecting us, but now he’s hunting our relatives like animals.”
Some voices sought to highlight the human cost behind the numbers. “It’s not about politics, it’s about broken families. Many deportees have no criminal record. Where’s the justice in that?” asked one commenter. Others pointed out the moral contradictions within the community itself: “Many who support Trump today forget they once crossed the border or sought asylum. Supporting policies that hurt your own isn’t patriotism, it’s hypocrisy.”
While these dissenting voices were fewer, their arguments were pointed and reflected a growing fracture within the traditionally Republican-loyal Cuban American bloc. Generational and ideological differences emerged, with younger people, women, and professionals increasingly rejecting hardline immigration measures and the perceived authoritarian style of Trump’s leadership. As one user summed it up, “I supported him because he promised order, but what he brought was fear. And fear doesn’t bring prosperity.”
The debate was not only passionate but also rife with misinformation and conspiracy theories. False claims—such as “illegals vote” and “polls are only conducted by Democrats”—were repeated across the thread, alongside accusations that the media was “left-controlled.” This crisis of confidence in institutions and the media, as CiberCuba noted, has deep historical roots in the Cuban exile experience, where skepticism toward official narratives is often a legacy of life under a totalitarian regime.
Florida’s unique political landscape, with its large and vocal Cuban American population, remains a Republican bastion. But the online uproar over the CiberCuba article revealed that even here, the Latino electorate is far from a monolithic bloc. The comments section became a mirror reflecting not just political opinions, but also the emotional and cultural struggles that define the Cuban American experience in the U.S. Trump was alternately hailed as a “savior” and “defender of freedom,” or condemned as a “tyrant” and “enemy of immigrants.”
Ultimately, the events of early November 2025—ICE’s high-profile arrests, the surge in deportations, and the digital firestorm on social media—underscore a fundamental truth: the Latino vote is more divided, vocal, and emotionally invested than ever before. While Florida may hold steady as a Republican stronghold for now, the cracks in its foundation are growing more visible. The debate over immigration, identity, and leadership is far from settled, and as the 2026 election approaches, both parties will be watching the Cuban American community with keen interest. The future of U.S. politics may well hinge on how these fractures are navigated—and whether the voices of regret, disillusionment, and hope can find common ground.
