On a sweltering afternoon in late July 2026, Bryan Omar Sánchez, a Honduran immigrant living in Colorado, found himself boarding a plane with dozens of others. He had no idea where he was headed. As an ICE officer joked, “Hey, Honduras, why are you going to Africa?” Sánchez realized, to his horror, that he was being deported not to his homeland, but to the Central African Republic—a country he’d never set foot in, with no ties, no family, and no grasp of the language. According to EL PAÍS, Sánchez’s pleas and tears were ignored, and his pending asylum claim and protection under the Convention Against Torture were brushed aside. He was just one of thousands swept up by a sweeping U.S. policy of deporting migrants to so-called third countries, often with little notice and scant opportunity to contest their fate.
This practice, which exploded in scope under the Trump administration, has now come under fierce legal scrutiny. On September 18, 2026, federal judge Regina M. Rodríguez ordered the U.S. government to bring Sánchez back to Colorado, release him immediately—without GPS monitoring or onerous conditions—and respect due process in all future deportations to third countries. Her ruling, as reported by EL PAÍS, declared: “This court and many others nationwide have determined that ICE’s third-country removal policies violate the constitutional right to due process when applicants aren’t given notice and a chance to contest their removal before being sent to a third country.”
Sánchez’s ordeal is emblematic of a much larger trend. Since March 2025, the U.S. government has deported more than 25,000 people to third countries, according to data from The Deportation Project and Forbidden Stories. These deportations have been carried out under agreements with at least 35 countries, including nearly 14 in Africa, as well as nations in Latin America and Asia such as Mexico, Panama, Ghana, Cameroon, and the Central African Republic. The Trump administration created the Office of Remigration—controversially named, as the term “remigration” is associated with far-right European movements—to negotiate these deals, reports The Washington Post. By June 2026, over $410 million had been allocated to facilitate these transfers.
On paper, deportations to third countries are legal under U.S. law, provided strict conditions are met. The principle of non-refoulement prohibits sending anyone to a place where they face a real risk of persecution, torture, or harm. U.S. law also requires that deportees be notified, in a language they understand, of their destination and given an opportunity to object—especially if they fear for their safety. In practice, though, these safeguards have often been ignored. As Factchequeado and EL PAÍS document, many migrants learned of their destination only hours before departure, sometimes mid-flight. Written notifications, if they came at all, were often in English or Spanish, languages not all deportees understood.
The human cost has been staggering. According to Human Rights First and Refugees International, about 79% of those sent to third countries ended up in Mexico—roughly 20,000 people between January 2025 and August 2026. Others were scattered across Central America, Africa, and Asia. Many arrived with nothing: no identification, no money, no contacts. They depended on humanitarian organizations for basic needs. Some, like Sánchez, found themselves in legal limbo, unable to apply for asylum or secure legal status in their new country. There have been chilling reports of deportees facing kidnapping, violence, and even death. Factchequeado cites the story of a Nigerian woman with U.S. protection who was sent to Ghana, only to be returned to Nigeria within 24 hours—where she faced the same threats she’d fled. In Honduras, at least 36 deported migrants were killed in 2025 after being returned to the very country they had escaped due to danger.
Legal challenges to the policy have mounted as the toll has grown. In March 2025, a group of migrants filed a class-action lawsuit challenging the Department of Homeland Security’s (DHS) guidance allowing rapid removals to third countries with as little as six to 24 hours’ notice. In February 2026, federal judge Brian Murphy ruled the policy violated due process, ordering the government to provide written notification of the destination country and allow migrants to raise objections if they feared persecution or torture there. The ruling also set a 15-day window for migrants to request reopening their cases. On September 19, 2026, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the First Circuit upheld Murphy’s decision, declaring the DHS guidance illegal. The court stopped short of banning all third-country deportations, but made clear: due process must be respected. Migrants must be notified in advance, in a language they understand, and given a meaningful chance to contest their removal.
The stories behind the numbers are sobering. Julie Bourdoiseau of the Center for Gender & Refugee Studies told Factchequeado that many of her clients—mostly Venezuelans deported to El Salvador and held in maximum-security prisons—had no criminal records and had built lives in the U.S. “At the very least, they should be asked: Do you fear returning? There should be a basic screening,” she said. She described cases where people were sent to countries they’d never visited, where they spoke neither the language nor had any support network. The risks, she warned, are “extremely high”—from violence and trafficking to forced disappearances.
Separation from family is another devastating consequence. Some migrants sent to Mexico left spouses or children behind in the U.S., with little hope of reunification. Others, like the transgender Cuban woman deported to the Central African Republic, faced grave dangers because of their identity. The lack of monitoring means many simply vanish from the radar of organizations that might help them. As Susan Akram of Boston University explained, forced deportations without legal recourse can rise to the level of crimes against humanity if they are systematic and involve disappearances or torture. “The most important and fundamental violation is of the principle of ‘no refoulement’—the obligation not to send anyone to a place where they risk torture or cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment,” Akram emphasized.
Meanwhile, the system continues to churn. As of late September 2026, the U.S. government is expected to appeal the court rulings. But for people like Wilber Rafael Garcés, a Venezuelan immigrant shot by an ICE agent and ordered by a judge to remain in the U.S. for a hearing on September 30, the stakes are personal and immediate. Garcés, according to Telemundo, still has a bullet lodged in his body and was recently hospitalized for pain and mobility issues. His case, like Sánchez’s, underscores the urgent need for transparency, oversight, and respect for basic rights in the deportation process.
For now, advocates urge migrants to seek legal representation and stay in contact with organizations such as Human Rights First and Refugees International, which help document abuses and provide assistance. As the legal battles continue, the fate of thousands hangs in the balance—caught between shifting policies, international law, and the harsh realities on the ground.
The recent court rulings, while not ending the practice of third-country deportations, have forced the U.S. government to reckon with the consequences of moving people across the globe without warning or protection. For those who have already been sent away, and for those still waiting, the fight for due process and safety is far from over.