On October 2, 2025, the University of Texas at Austin’s South Lawn became a poignant stage for a gathering that cut to the heart of one of the nation’s most contentious issues. About 25 students assembled for a vigil honoring families torn apart by the latest wave of mass deportations, a campaign that has surged under President Donald Trump’s administration. The event, organized by the Austin Students for a Democratic Society (SDS), was more than a somber remembrance—it was a call to action, a moment of solidarity, and a reflection of the profound impact federal immigration policy is having on communities, especially in Texas.
At the center of the vigil was a Mexican-inspired ofrenda, adorned with photos of families and individuals displaced by recent deportations. As reported by Fight Back! News, these images were not mere symbols. SDS member Pablo Díaz, after sharing his experience working with children living in fear of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), emphasized, “The photos aren’t just photos of someone who was taken away, they are photos of families that have been broken apart.” The vigil included moments of silence, personal stories, and public comments, underscoring the emotional toll and the sense of injustice felt by many in the UT Austin community.
The reason for this outpouring of grief and anger was clear: since January 2025, more than 200,000 people have been deported in what advocates and critics alike describe as an aggressive campaign by the Trump administration. According to Fight Back! News, the SDS has spent the last two semesters pressing for immigrant rights through their “ICE Off Campus!” campaign, aiming to pressure the university to protect international and undocumented students from the reach of federal authorities. The urgency of their efforts was heightened by reports of ICE sightings around campus in late January and the revocation of visas for multiple UT-system students last spring.
But the story unfolding in Austin is just a microcosm of a far broader, and rapidly escalating, national drama. On October 3, 2025, a government memo obtained by The Intercept revealed that ICE had begun targeting unaccompanied immigrant children, offering them $2,500 to agree to voluntary deportation. The operation—described by advocates as “Freaky Friday,” though ICE denies the moniker—is the latest, and perhaps most controversial, tactic in the administration’s immigration crackdown.
The memo, distributed to immigrant aid groups, stated: “The U.S. Department of Homeland Security (DHS) will provide a one-time resettlement support stipend of $2,500 U.S. Dollars to unaccompanied alien children, 14 years of age and older, who have elected to voluntarily depart the United States as of the date of this notice and moving forward.” Children who accepted the offer would have to meet with an ICE officer and sign a form waiving their right to a removal hearing. According to The Intercept, ICE confirmed the plan, stating that financial support would only be provided after an immigration judge’s approval and the child’s arrival in their country of origin.
Details of the operation were corroborated by The Washington Post, which reviewed official records and confirmed that the Trump administration was actively offering $2,500 to unaccompanied migrant children aged 14 and older to encourage self-deportation. The policy, officials told The Washington Post, was intended as a “voluntary option,” though advocates and attorneys have raised grave concerns about the ethics and legality of such incentives.
“The idea that masked men would now go to 14-year-olds and ask them to waive their rights to return to the countries that they fled is shocking,” said Bilal Askaryar, director of communications at the Acacia Center for Justice, in comments to The Intercept. Melissa Adamson, an attorney at the National Center for Youth Law, reviewed the government memo and added, “Voluntary departure has always been available. What children need is legal counsel to safely understand the risks or benefits of this option—not the government essentially enticing them into giving up their rights for a cash incentive.”
The memo and ICE’s subsequent statement sparked immediate outrage among immigrant rights advocates, who warned that many unaccompanied children lack legal representation, especially after the Trump administration cut federally funded legal aid programs earlier in the year. According to the University of California, Los Angeles, Latino Policy and Politics Institute, the now-defunct program had supported more than 26,000 children. From 2023 to 2024 alone, the U.S. government received referrals for 93,356 unaccompanied children, primarily from Guatemala, Honduras, Mexico, and El Salvador.
Advocates said the “voluntary” program was anything but. According to reports relayed to The Intercept by sources inside the government, ICE agents would first target children currently in federal immigration detention, followed by those released to relatives or host families. Children who declined the offer, they said, faced threats of detention—both for themselves and their relatives in the U.S. As soon as unaccompanied minors turned 18, ICE would detain them for removal proceedings.
“Americans have been shocked by the tactics that ICE is using in communities across the country,” Askaryar said, “and the idea that immigration enforcement agents can coerce children into waiving their rights and protections under this memo to meet President Trump’s political goals is cruel.”
The plan’s rollout coincided with a federal government shutdown, a timing that advocates speculated was meant to minimize public scrutiny. On Labor Day weekend, the government targeted 300 Guatemalan children for deportation, with agents rounding up 76 of them in the middle of the night; a federal judge ultimately blocked their removal just hours before their scheduled departure, according to The Intercept.
In the midst of this, advocates and attorneys mobilized rapidly, urging immigrant children not to sign any documents or accept offers without first consulting legal counsel. By Friday afternoon, immigrant rights organizations were receiving government emails and texts about the new deportation plan, and the broader community braced for further fallout.
Back in Austin, the sense of urgency was palpable. SDS member Mia Reballosa didn’t mince words about the university’s role: “The university hasn’t just been silent, they’ve been complicit.” Her remarks referenced not only the ICE sightings but the broader climate of fear and uncertainty facing international and undocumented students across the UT system.
As the vigil ended with one last moment of silence, the students’ resolve was clear. The SDS vowed to continue its “ICE Off Campus!” campaign, pushing the UT administration to take concrete steps to shield vulnerable students from federal immigration enforcement. The struggle is far from over, but for those gathered on the South Lawn—and for thousands of families and children nationwide—the fight for justice and dignity remains as urgent as ever.
In a climate of mounting anxiety and controversy, the actions taken in Austin and across the country reflect a broader debate about the nation’s values, the rights of children, and the boundaries of executive power. The stories shared, the policies scrutinized, and the resistance mounted all point to a nation at a crossroads—one where the choices made today will echo for generations to come.
