Cesar Atencio and Lina Arias rushed to the US border with their two young children last January, hoping to arrive before President Donald Trump fulfilled his promise to crack down on immigration. Crossing Mexico's Chihuahua desert on a cold morning, they were stopped and kidnapped by gang members posing as police officers, who demanded a ransom.

"They told us the good news and the bad news. The bad news was for us: Mr. Trump had become president and closed the border. The good news was for them: smugglers would charge more for each trip bringing people and drugs into the US," Arias, 27, recounted.

Cesar Atencio with his wife Lina Arias and their two children at a shelter in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico. Photo: WSJ

Cesar Atencio with his wife Lina Arias and their two children at a shelter in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico. Photo: WSJ

The Trump administration's strict border controls and commitment to mass deportations have, for the first time in decades, stemmed the flow of migrants to the US-Mexico border. US officials reported that the number of migrants at the border decreased by 93% compared to a year earlier, down to about 7,800 in July.

Countries from Ecuador to Costa Rica and Guatemala have also become less welcoming to migrants. Those who were too late are now stranded throughout the region. Few choose to return home, wanting to avoid the violence, political tension, and soaring inflation in countries like Venezuela, Haiti, and Ecuador. Those who do wish to return often lack the necessary money or documents. Aid workers and United Nations officials estimate that several hundred thousand migrants are stranded in Mexico alone.

"We want to find a safe place, but all the doors are slammed shut," said Atencio, 32.

According to Mexican prosecutors' records, the kidnappers released Atencio, his wife, and children after nearly a month in exchange for a $1,000 ransom. Since then, they have been living in a shelter in the border city of Ciudad Juarez, where Atencio works in construction and delivers food to support his family.

Cases like theirs pose a growing political challenge for Latin American leaders, including Mexico City Mayor Claudia Sheinbaum. She has sought to appease President Trump by joining efforts to curb the flow of undocumented migrants into the US and by increasing efforts to combat drug gangs at the border.

"This whole issue is like a monster growing before our eyes, but we can't do much about it," said Roman Dominguez, a pastor who runs a shelter housing several dozen migrants in Ciudad Juarez, near the pedestrian bridge to El Paso, Texas.

'Nothing left to lose'

Atencio left Venezuela in 2018 due to economic hardship. He crossed the border into Colombia and worked in restaurants, one of the few jobs that didn't require a passport or birth certificate.

He met Arias, moved in with her, and started a family. For two years, he worked for a restaurant in Apartado, a small city plagued by gangs in northern Colombia. His family witnessed countless migrants passing through the city on their way to the US.

Exhausted by low wages and rampant crime, they decided to join the migrant flow. The couple packed up everything and set off. They hid their $1,150 in savings inside hair ties mixed in with their clothes. The night before their departure in 4/2024, they whispered to each other in bed: "We have nothing left to lose."

The family of 4 joined a migrant caravan crossing the Darien Gap jungle in Panama, wading through rivers and climbing mountains. Atencio carried his youngest son, Simon, on his chest. But they fell behind and got lost, their tent collapsing in the pouring rain.

After a week in the jungle, they continued their journey through Central America by bus. Upon reaching Tapachula in southern Mexico in 7/2024, a gang held them captive for 4 days. The couple had to pay several hundred USD for their freedom.

A month later, in Mexico City, they bought and resold candy and popsicles on the streets to earn money for the next leg of their journey. Last January, they scraped together enough money to join other migrants on a freight train carrying chemicals and scrap metal towards the US border.

They had to hold tight to their two sons as the train moved. Angel, 4, recounted how the train once collided with a cow, splattering blood and guts all over them. The migrants quickly jumped down to collect any edible meat. Atencio picked up a leg, and they used it to make soup at their next stop.

The stress and cold of the journey suppressed the boys' appetites. Arias felt guilty for bringing her children along. "I'm an adult, I made this choice," she said. "But the children just follow us."

In the following months, they traveled hundreds of kilometers north twice, but were stopped by Mexican immigration officials at checkpoints and forced to return.

After Mr. Trump's re-election last November, Atencio and Arias decided to take one last gamble. According to prosecutors' documents, on 12/1, they were kidnapped again. Gang members forced Atencio to cook and clean the warehouse where his family was held with dozens of other migrants.

Atencio carries his child on the migration route to the US with hundreds of others. Photo: WSJ

Atencio carries his child on the migration route to the US with hundreds of others. Photo: WSJ

The gang sent messages to Atencio's mother in Venezuela, along with edited photos that made him look severely beaten. They demanded $2,500 to release each member of the family.

After 25 days, Atencio's family transferred $1,000. The gang abandoned them on the side of the road in a remote area, where police found them and brought the family to Ciudad Juarez. Now, they are too afraid to venture far from the shelter. A nearby fence separates the city from downtown El Paso, Texas.

Stranded

The Mexican government maintains a program that provides housing, jobs, and counseling to Mexican citizens deported from the US. However, these services are exclusively for Mexican citizens, not migrants from other countries, leaving charities and local governments to find ways to support those stranded.

On a recent day, about 20 migrants filled Pastor Dominguez's shelter. Some fled threats in their home countries in South America. Others left the US after Mr. Trump returned to power, fearing the risk of arrest by authorities.

Some in the group operate a dough-kneading machine purchased by Dominguez to make donuts to sell on the streets. Previously, migrants often found jobs in factories along the border that produced parts sold to the US. But President Trump's tariffs have caused demand to plummet, and so has employment.

"These people certainly didn't want to travel this far only to be stuck here," Dominguez said. "What should we do to help them?"

He worries that desperate migrants seeking entry to the US will resort to more expensive and risky methods. Dominguez said a Guatemalan family living at his shelter recently paid $7,000 to smugglers to cross the border. A year ago, the cost was only around $2,000.

Aid groups have had little success persuading migrants to stay in Mexico rather than risk crossing the border. Ten years ago, many Haitians settled in Tijuana, Mexico, creating a "Little Haiti." After the Joe Biden administration granted temporary protected status to Haitians unable to return home due to gang violence, many left for the US.

Recent changes are forcing migrants to reconsider their plans, but many still harbor the dream of pursuing the "American dream" in the future.

"That's the allure of America. The economy, the jobs, the USD, the desire to go to America always exists," said Jeremy MacGillivray, deputy chief of mission for the UN's International Organization for Migration in Mexico.

An uncertain future

Atencio delivers food on his old motorcycle. Photo: WSJ

Atencio delivers food on his old motorcycle. Photo: WSJ

In March, Atencio found a carpentry job in Ciudad Juarez for minimum wage, about $20 a day. He saved up to buy a used motorcycle, and in recent weeks, Atencio switched to working for a food delivery app, earning up to $50 a day.

The money helped him buy the white wedding dress Arias wore when they married in June at the city's civil registry office. Simon and Angel were not present because children are not allowed in the building. Only 4 volunteers from the Active Human Rights Action organization attended the ceremony.

The wedding took place thanks to this group's application requesting the civil registry office to exempt the Atencio family from providing required documents, such as the birth certificate he doesn't have.

Karla Gutierrez, head of the registry office, officiated the wedding. She said the office still approves some exceptions to prevent the separation of migrant families with multiple nationalities. "There are many such cases," Gutierrez said.

After the wedding, Atencio and Arias returned to the shelter for lunch with about 50 other migrants. After the meal, he quickly returned to his motorcycle to deliver pizzas and burgers.

The couple said they plan to stay in Ciudad Juarez until the end of the year, saving money for their next destination, hoping to find a stable place before their children are old enough to attend school. Atencio still dreams of living in the US, but Arias's family in rural Colombia is urging her to return.

"Should we wait for Mr. Trump to leave office, or should we try somewhere else like Spain or Canada? I really don't know," Atencio said after a walk with his family at the border. Nearby, a US tank was parked on a hilltop overlooking the dividing wall.

Arias replied to her husband, echoing a phrase she's seen increasingly on social media lately: "Let's see if the American dream can become the Latin American dream."

Vu Hoang (According to WSJ, AFP, Reuters)