As deportation fears rise, immigrant parents ask: Who cares for my kids?
By Ben Strauss and María Luisa PaúlThe Washington Post
CHICAGO – As the Trump administration intensifies a nationwide mass deportation campaign, immigrant parents are scrambling to secure emergency caretakers for their children – flooding legal clinics and naming friends, acquaintances or teachers as temporary guardians.
A Chicago volunteer worker agreed to become a guardian for nine children, using an obscure state law that dates to the AIDS epidemic.
A teacher in Maine recently agreed to be an emergency guardian for one of her students if his parents, both of whom are undocumented, are deported.
And a business owner in Oregon ended up with temporary custody of her friend’s children for four months when the parents were both detained.
Fear of being separated from her son recently led Rosa, an Ecuadorian asylum seeker and single mom in Chicago, to search online for help with a question she never thought she’d face: What happens to my child if I get deported?
The search led her to information about short-term guardianship, or tutela temporal in Spanish, which allows parents to designate a trusted adult to temporarily care for their children under certain conditions without giving up parental rights. In Illinois, the four-page legal document is free and requires no lawyer or notary.
It gives people the authority to make decisions about education and medical needs if parents are unable to care for their children.
“I don’t know if I will come home from work any day; this is my plan,” Rosa said of the short-term guardianship agreement. (Like several others interviewed for this article, she spoke to The Washington Post on the condition of anonymity because of fear of retaliation from the federal government.)
Across the country, the effects of the Trump administration’s mass deportation campaign have had a chilling effect on immigrant communities – both the estimated 11 million undocumented immigrants and those here legally.
Perhaps nowhere has it been more pronounced than in Chicago, where law firms advertise services on Spanish language radio for parents in need of a plan for their kids if they get detained.
Sometimes parents are seeking help from U.S. citizens they’ve only recently met. Aleah Arundale, who helps a network of immigrants with necessities like food and rent money in Chicago, has made short-term guardianship arrangements for nine children from four families. “The greatest fear for them is: ‘What happens if I get taken?’” Arundale said. “They think I’m the best chance to get their kids back.”
There’s no data to quantify short-term guardianship arrangements since the requirements vary by state. But lawyers report they are being inundated. Clinics are popping up across the country, and one specialist said they usually see two or three cases per year but now receive hundreds of requests each week for information.
The Department of Homeland Security did not respond to questions about the surge of interest in guardianship agreements. The Trump administration has deported more than 400,000 people this year, DHS has said. It has also doubled the number of people detained in U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement facilities. As of late September, ICE is holding nearly 60,000 people in custody. It’s unclear how many of those are parents.
The White House has said it is targeting criminals, but some of those who have been detained are asylum seekers, longtime residents, people with pending immigration cases or even U.S. citizens. A Syracuse University research group has found that more than 70 percent of those detained by ICE do not have criminal records.
At a time of heightened anxiety, some immigrants said guardianship planning has become one of the few things they can control. “It helps me breathe,” said one mother, an asylum seeker from Venezuela, who completed the Illinois form with Arundale. “And it took 10 minutes.”
– – –
Hundreds every week
Rosa arrived in Chicago four years ago. She cleans an office with a work permit, but a highly publicized federal immigration raid in her neighborhood sent her into a panic.
After Rosa learned about temporary guardianship, her church connected her with Rebekah Rashidfarokhi, an attorney and director of guardianship and immigration programs for children at Chicago Volunteer Legal Services, which offers pro bono representation.
The two met virtually this month to discuss the process.
Unlike adoption or more complicated guardianship procedures that require court approval, short-term guardianship in Illinois needs just the signatures of two consenting parties and two witnesses. Parents can revoke the arrangement at any time. It can last up to a year.
The form is helpful for enrolling a child in school or going to the doctor, Rashidfarokhi said, because it is recognized by state law. It has no federal authority, so it cannot be used to get a passport. (Several parents said that if they are deported they hoped it could also help make international travel and reuniting with their children easier.)
The guardianship does not kick in immediately but takes effect with a specified event. Rashidfarokhi instructed Rosa to be specific about the conditions: “In case I am detained by immigration.”
Rosa said she left Ecuador after her husband was abusing her and threatening her children. She has lived in fear in recent weeks, she said, but also knowing she must make logistical plans. She has been preparing documents, including proof of custody of her son after her divorce. She spoke to a woman, a dual American and Ecuadorian citizen, she met taking English classes at a community college to be her designated guardian. The woman agreed.
She has avoided talking too much about any of it with her 13-year-old son.
“He is confused about what is happening,” Rosa said. “But I am his mother, and I have to do it.”
Rashidfarokhi has been a family law attorney for two decades. Most years, she handles two or three short-term guardianship cases. Now, hundreds of people are requesting information every week, with families and community groups flooding her with requests for clinics and presentations. At one clinic earlier this year, 100 families showed up. (Rashidfarokhi said it’s difficult to quantify how many people fill out the form because many of the consultations she does now are virtual since so many people are afraid to leave their homes.)
Mayra Lira, an attorney with Public Counsel in Los Angeles, said she has seen similar demand for guardianship clinics in her city, where the Trump administration has also carried out immigration raids.
Lira described seeing parents make short-term guardianship plans as “dystopian,” adding that allegations of unlawful arrests and racial profiling have also brought green-card holders and U.S. citizens to the clinics.
“Everyone is afraid of being targeted,” she said.
– – –
‘We want people to know what to do’
The legal framework for Illinois’ short-term guardianship didn’t exist until the late 1980s. It was conceived of primarily to assist HIV-positive parents, many of them low-income, who were worried the state would assume custody of their kids if they died. It took several years of lobbying before Illinois amended its probate law.
“It was revolutionary at the time,” said Linda Coon, a lawyer who spearheaded the effort. “I knew it would help our clients but could never imagine it would be used by thousands of people today.”
Its uses have expanded over the years. During the early days of the pandemic, an executive order in New York state allowed medical workers to designate a temporary guardian. Several states – including Maryland and New York, as well as the District of Columbia – amended statutes during the first Trump administration to recognize immigration detention or deportation as an event that could give designated caregivers temporary parental rights. California passed a law last month that created a new short-term guardianship process for parents who could be detained or deported.
Today, guardianship conversations are happening in all types of settings, some not even planned by parents.
A teacher in Maine said she agreed to be a temporary guardian for one of her students after the parents broke down crying in a meeting over what might happen to their child if they were deported.
“I will do that every single time,” the teacher said. “I shouldn’t have to. I should just be able to teach my kids.”
Mimi Lettunich, an Oregon resident, took care of a friend’s four children after the family was detained by federal agents. (She has a pending U.S. visa and her children are U.S. citizens.) When Lettunich picked up the children, she was handed a coloring book with a note from their mother that said: “I will miss my babies. … I talked to them that they need to obey you.” The note also included a reminder for one of her kids’ upcoming orthodontist appointments.
Temporary guardianship allowed Lettunich to take the kids to doctor’s appointments and enroll them in a new school.
Lettunich’s friend was eventually released, and the two are now working on a handbook to help families facing the same circumstances. One of its strongest recommendations: arrange for short-term guardianship.
“We want people to know what to do,” Lettunich said. “Because you never think it’ll happen – until it does.”






