For more than two months, Orville Etoria, a 62-year-old Jamaican man, languished in a maximum-security prison in Eswatini, a tiny southern African monarchy few Americans could locate on a map. He was held without charges, without access to legal counsel, and—according to his lawyers—without any legitimate reason to be there. His story, which has drawn the attention of human rights organizations and ignited debate over U.S. immigration policy, now stands as a stark example of the complexities and controversies surrounding the United States’ third-country deportation program.
Etoria’s saga began decades ago, when he moved to the United States from Jamaica in 1976. He became a legal permanent resident but, nearly thirty years ago, was convicted of fatally shooting a man in Brooklyn. After serving 25 years in prison and completing his parole, Etoria was living in New York, working at a men’s shelter, and dutifully checking in with immigration authorities each year, as required. But during one of those routine check-ins earlier this year, immigration officials detained him, setting off a chain of events that would land him thousands of miles from home, in a country where he had no ties or family.
According to The New York Times, Etoria was deported in mid-July 2025 under the Trump administration’s third-country deportation program. The program, which has been ramped up since Trump’s return to office, seeks to send certain deportees not to their countries of origin, but to third countries willing to accept them—often, in exchange for financial incentives. U.S. officials justified Etoria’s deportation by claiming that Jamaica had refused to accept him. However, Jamaican authorities denied this, stating they were in fact willing to take him back. “Mr. Etoria now begins the difficult process of readjusting to life in his country of birth, Jamaica, after nearly five decades living in the United States,” Mia Unger, a lawyer with the Legal Aid Society of New York, said in a statement.
While in Eswatini, Etoria and four other men—originally from Cuba, Laos, Vietnam, and Yemen—were held in prison, repeatedly denied visits by a lawyer, according to the Legal Aid Society. The Eswatini government, for its part, insisted the men were only there in transit and would be repatriated. Meanwhile, the U.S. Department of Homeland Security described the group as “dangerous criminals,” noting they had been convicted of serious offenses, including murder and child rape, and were in the U.S. illegally with active deportation orders.
Yet, as AP News reported, Etoria and the others had already completed their criminal sentences before being sent overseas. Human rights organizations argue that this practice—removing individuals to countries where they have no ties and detaining them without charges—violates international law and basic principles of justice. In a pointed statement, Human Rights Watch said the program “violates international human rights law and is designed to instrumentalize human suffering as a deterrent to migration.”
Etoria’s ordeal came to an end on Sunday, September 21, 2025, when he was repatriated to Jamaica with the assistance of the United Nations’ International Organization for Migration, according to Thabile Mdluli, the Eswatini government’s acting spokesperson. He was freed upon arrival in Jamaica, as confirmed by the country’s top diplomat in southern Africa. But for Etoria, the challenges are far from over. After nearly fifty years in the United States, he must now attempt to rebuild his life in a country he left as a teenager.
The Eswatini government said it is still in negotiations to repatriate the four other men who were deported alongside Etoria. The convoluted process has been further complicated by financial negotiations between Eswatini and the U.S. According to documents obtained by The New York Times, Eswatini at one point requested half a billion dollars from the United States in exchange for taking in third-country deportees, and was willing to accept more than 150 deportees for a cash payout of over $10 million. Human Rights Watch reported that the U.S. agreed to pay Eswatini $5.1 million to take up to 160 deportees, and Rwanda $7.5 million to take up to 250 deportees. Rwanda has publicly stated it is prepared to receive up to 250 deportees from the U.S.
The third-country deportation program is not limited to Eswatini and Rwanda. Since July 2025, the U.S. has deported more than 30 individuals to at least four African countries—South Sudan, Eswatini, Rwanda, and Ghana—according to AP News. An agreement is also in place with Uganda, though no deportations there have been announced yet. Other deportees have found themselves held for weeks in places like South Sudan or at U.S. military bases in Djibouti. A Mexican man recently repatriated after two months detained in South Sudan was among several who were first held in Djibouti, highlighting the far-flung and often opaque nature of these deportations.
Legal challenges to the practice are mounting. Two court cases have been filed in Eswatini against authorities over the detention of the deportees: one demanding in-person access to lawyers, and another—brought by nonprofit organizations—arguing that the men’s detention is unconstitutional. Hearings have been repeatedly delayed, and government officials have failed to appear for at least one scheduled hearing.
For the Trump administration, the third-country deportation program is part of a broader effort to deter illegal immigration by making the consequences of remaining in the U.S. without authorization as severe and unpredictable as possible. The administration has argued that sending deportees to countries with which they have no connection serves as a deterrent to would-be migrants. Critics, however, say the policy is both cruel and counterproductive, placing vulnerable individuals at risk and straining relationships with partner nations.
“This case was a grave injustice that underscores the dangers of the U.S. government’s continued third-country deportations,” the Legal Aid Society said in a statement following Etoria’s release. International rights groups have echoed this sentiment, warning that the program sets a dangerous precedent and undermines America’s standing as a nation of laws and due process.
As negotiations continue for the remaining deportees in Eswatini, and as legal challenges wind their way through the courts, the future of the third-country deportation program remains uncertain. For Orville Etoria, at least, the ordeal is over—but his story is a sobering reminder of the human costs and legal complexities at the heart of today’s immigration debates.
