He came to Arizona as a child. Now he’s in ICE detention.

21-year-old Judas Rivera was detained by ICE while on his way to work. Now, he sits in the Eloy Detention Center as his family scrambles to stop his deportation. 

Editor’s note: Some sources and individuals mentioned in this article asked to be identified by partial names only, or to have their names withheld, for fear of retribution. We have verified their identities, but have agreed not to publish their full names in order to protect their privacy and safety.

Judas Rivera has lived in Arizona since he was 10 years old.

Originally from northern Mexico, Rivera’s mother grew up hearing about the coveted American dream. Wanting more for herself and her children, she obtained a tourist visa in 2014 and crossed into Arizona, later settling in Mesa with her two children, Judas Rivera and his sister Nicole.

“We just wanted opportunity,” Rivera’s mother, who asked that we withhold her name for fear of retribution, said in Spanish in an interview with The Copper Courier, which was translated by Celeste Andrade, Rivera’s cousin.

When Rivera became aware of his undocumented status during his teenage years, he understood the risks—one small mistake could lead to his life being uprooted. He made sure to always follow the law and attract as little attention as possible, according to Nicole.

While other students in his class were bragging about finally receiving their driver’s license, Rivera had nothing to show. In Arizona, undocumented people are unable to receive a driver’s license. 

Rivera tried to keep his head down as best he could, not just to protect himself but to protect others in his family and community, too, Nicole said. 

The family always knew they were at risk. Earlier this year, the trio—Rivera, his mother, and Nicole—huddled together to discuss the possibility of being targeted by US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). At the time, Rivera’s mother told her 21-year-old son that if he were deported, she would follow him to Mexico to look after him.

It was all hypothetical until Oct. 21, when ICE agents apprehended Rivera on his way to work. Rivera and his co-worker, who is also undocumented, were leaving a Chick-fil-A when ICE agents in an unmarked vehicle pulled them over and detained them early in the morning, Nicole said. 

Rivera’s boss witnessed the incident and contacted his mother. Upon learning of her son’s arrest, she collapsed to the floor of her workplace. She immediately called her daughter, who was on her college campus at the time, and the two quickly got to work preparing for the upcoming legal fight.

“The first day was all a blur,” Nicole said. 

They called lawyers, set up a GoFundMe and contacted friends to borrow money. They scrambled to collect Rivera’s elementary, middle, and high school records, diplomas, baseball trophies—anything and everything to try to prove his good character and prevent deportation.

“We were crying all day. We were worried,” Nicole said.

Worst of all, they didn’t even know where Rivera was.

They patiently waited by the phone all day for him to call. Luckily, the family all have a location tracking app downloaded on their phones. Soon enough, they were able to locate Rivera at the Central ICE Field Office in Phoenix.

At exactly midnight, they finally heard from him, Nicole said. Rivera called his family to alert them of the situation, telling his family that ICE agents blindfolded him during the commute and that he wasn’t sure where he was as a result, according to Nicole. The family informed him he was at the Central ICE Field Office in Phoenix.

The next day, Rivera was transferred to the Central Arizona Florence Correctional Center, according to Nicole. During processing, Rivera made a chilling discovery–ICE erroneously put his country of origin as Afghanistan, a country he had never been to, instead of Mexico. Rivera pleaded with them to change it, but he was told it didn’t matter, according to Nicole.

“My brother begged them to change. He was scared that we weren’t going to be able to find him,” Nicole said. “They told him straight to his face that it’s the same difference.”

To convince officers to update his information, Rivera asked them to check his passport, which was in the car at the time of arrest, Nicole said. According to her, officers told Rivera they didn’t find a passport in the vehicle, but the family is confident it was there.

When the family later retrieved the car, the passport was missing, prompting them to believe that ICE agents tampered with his belongings. 

On Oct. 24, the ICE detainee tracker showed Rivera as a national of Afghanistan. After The Copper Courier reached out to ICE, however, the tracker was corrected to show him as a Mexican national. 

ICE did not respond to a request for comment.

Before and after our inquiry.

Life in detention

While in Florence, Rivera was treated, “horribly,” Nicole said. 

“The officers there are treating them worse than most criminals. There’s a lot of yelling, there’s a lot of racism.”

On Oct. 23, he was transferred to the Eloy Detention Center, according to Nicole, where she says the treatment is slightly better than Florence, but still bad, according to her brother.

“They’re rude to him, they don’t speak with any sort of empathy. They’re just rude. That hurts me a lot, just knowing that that’s how he’s getting treated,” Rivera’s mother added.

The family put money in Rivera’s commissary account at Florence to ensure he could make calls. When he was abruptly transferred to Eloy, the funds did not transfer, and the family lost about $100, Andrade, Rivera’s cousin, said.

The family is grateful he is in a facility they believe is slightly better than Florence, but remain worried about his mental state. Rivera tells them he’s okay to stop them from worrying, but they’ve heard the horror stories about the facilities. They know better than to believe him.

“My brother doesn’t show he’s afraid, but we know he is,” Nicole said. “When he calls, he tries to say that everything is okay, even when we know it’s not. He just says it so my mom can sleep better at night.”

Growing up in the Valley

Rivera grew up immersed in the community, Nicole said. The oldest of the two, he set an example for his younger sister to follow, always offering strangers a helping hand if they needed one. 

Nicole recounted one instance where 14-year-old Rivera noticed a homeless man walking around without shoes during the hot Arizona summer. Rivera ran to give the stranger the new shoes he had just purchased. 

It was just one of many acts of kindness from her brother, Nicole said.

While in Arizona schools, Rivera learned English and discovered a love for baseball, his sister said. He played on his high school baseball team all four years and dreamed of one day joining Major League Baseball. 

When Rivera’s mother split from her partner, the trio had only each other to depend on. Rivera started working at a young age to ease the financial burden off his mother, who was working three jobs and struggling to learn English, according to Nicole.

With baseball, Rivera dreamt of a better future for himself and his family, imagining a life where he could earn a living and support his family while playing his favorite sport. 

He knew he had the skills and passion to succeed, Nicole said, but his dream was always shadowed by his undocumented status. When he received letters of interest and information about possible scholarships from college recruiters, he’d rip them up in frustration, Nicole said, knowing he wouldn’t be able to afford the costs of college. 

Undocumented students had long been ineligible for in-state tuition at Arizona’s public universities and community colleges and Rivera felt there was no way he could afford the cost of college.

“When he realized that being an [undocumented] immigrant was his setback, that’s when it really clicked for him, [that] he’s not like the rest of his classmates,” Nicole said. “He just started kind of slowly giving up on schoolwork.”

Arizona voters approved Proposition 308 in 2022, allowing undocumented students to qualify for in-state tuition at the state’s public universities and community colleges. 

But by then, Rivera had already given up on his dreams.

“It was a fantasy for a really long time before it truly clicked for him. If my brother didn’t have that one barrier, I could see him playing [baseball],” Nicole said. “He would have done great things in life.”

‘He’ll help everybody else and then help himself last.’

The tight-knit family is reeling from his absence. Rivera is considered the “backbone,” Andrade said. The family is struggling to make ends meet in his absence, while also dealing with the emotional pain of his detention. 

For the past three years, Rivera has been working in drywalling to help cover the cost of the family’s rent and pay for his sister’s college education, Nicole said. 

Nicole always dreamed of going to college, but worried about the financial feasibility of pursuing higher education while undocumented. When Proposition 308 passed in 2022, it offered some relief, but the cost of college was still too high.

Exasperated and losing hope, Nicole pondered giving up on her dream of pursuing higher education to join the workforce, instead. When she voiced that to her brother, he consoled her and paid the first installment of her tuition to encourage her to follow her dreams.

“That’s just the type of person he [is.] He would honestly help everyone honestly,” Nicole said. “He’ll help everybody else and then help himself last. He’s very kind.”

Nicole ultimately received a scholarship that covers most of her tuition at Grand Canyon University to study healthcare administration, and she credits her brother for keeping her optimistic at a time when she felt her path to higher education was impossible.

Prior to his detention, Rivera and his mother split payments to keep the house afloat. He covered rent and Nicole’s tuition payments while his mother covered utilities and car payments. In his absence, the family now has to adjust and find a way to make up for the loss of his income. 

Worst of all is the sense of hollowness his absence has created in the family home. 

“Ever since we found out, we haven’t stopped crying, especially my mom, it’s deeply affected her,” Nicole said. “It hurts because every time we would hear the door open or we would hear a car, we would think that he [came] home, but [then] we realize.”

If he’s deported back to Mexico, Rivera would be “practically alone,” as the family has no strong ties to any country besides the US.

“We have always been together. We are family. If [he] were to get deported, he would have no one [in Mexico,]” his mother said.

That’s why the family is fighting back.

Rivera’s upcoming court appearance, scheduled for Nov. 7, could determine his fate. The family is hoping the Trump administration will show mercy to people like Rivera, someone who worked hard, never committed a crime, and considers himself an American.

“For someone to just take him away like that, it’s [like] we’re taking away a piece of sunshine,” Andrade said. “We’re taking away someone that is compassionate, that is helpful. It’s just a little dimmer without him.”

The family has set up a GoFundMe to assist with legal fees.