ICE Keeps Deporting Him, He Keeps Coming Back. Why?

Abel Osbaldo Mendez, a 29-year-old from Guatemala, has been deported from the United States not once, not twice, but three times. His latest arrest by Immigration and Customs Enforcement on March 28, 2025, after serving a prison sentence in New York, paints a stark picture of a system obsessed with expulsion rather than understanding. Mendez’s story is not unique; it’s a symptom of a broader failure, one that prioritizes punishment over progress and security over compassion. His crimes, including a chilling conviction for sexual battery of a child in 2019, demand accountability, no question. Yet, the revolving door of deportation and reentry he’s trapped in reveals a deeper truth: our current approach isn’t working.

Each time Mendez crossed the border illegally, first in 2014 and again in 2020, he faced swift removal, only to return. Why? The answer lies not in some inherent defiance but in the desperate conditions driving people like him to risk everything. Economic instability, violence, and a lack of legal pathways push individuals back to the U.S., no matter how many times they’re sent away. ICE touts these removals as victories for public safety, with acting Field Office Director William P. Joyce calling Mendez a 'major threat.' But if that’s true, why does the threat keep reappearing? The system’s reliance on brute force deportation fails to address the human realities at its core.

This isn’t about excusing crime. It’s about recognizing that a policy of endless catch-and-release across borders does nothing to heal the wounds of communities here or abroad. Mendez’s case, spotlighted by ICE’s latest press release, forces us to ask: when will we stop spinning our wheels and start building a solution that actually sticks?

ICE’s strategy hinges on a simple idea: make reentry so punishing that no one dares try again. The data tells a different story. In fiscal year 2023, over 36% of those sentenced for illegal reentry faced enhancements for prior convictions, a clear sign that repeat crossings remain rampant. Studies stretching back to 2015 show recidivism rates hovering between 27% and 36%, spiking after policies like Title 42 sped up expulsions without lasting consequences. If harsher penalties worked, Mendez wouldn’t be in ICE custody today, awaiting his fourth removal. The evidence is undeniable, the cycle persists because punishment alone can’t erase the pull of survival.

Look at the sentencing trends. Under federal law, illegal reentry carries an average penalty of 12 months, often ballooning with enhancements for past deportations or crimes. Compare that to drug offenses or financial fraud, where plea deals and alternative sentencing abound. Why the disparity? Advocates for immigrant rights argue it’s a deliberate choice, one that targets the most vulnerable, often Latin American men like Mendez, while letting others off with lighter consequences. The U.S. Attorney’s Office in Virginia threw the book at him in 2024, securing another year in prison before ICE swooped in. Justice demands consistency, not selective severity.

Supporters of ICE’s approach claim these measures protect our borders. They point to January 2025, when Customs and Border Protection logged 81,000 encounters, a drop they credit to tougher enforcement under President Trump’s renewed term. But numbers don’t tell the full story. That decrease came at the cost of resources stretched thin, families torn apart, and a refusal to tackle why people keep coming. Deterrence sounds noble until you realize it’s a hollow promise, one that crumbles under the weight of human need.

Social media amplifies this disconnect. ICE’s own X posts, like those from @ERONewYork, celebrate arrests like Mendez’s as proof of their vigilance. Yet, the same platforms reveal a public growing weary of the narrative. Comments flood in, questioning why we’re still chasing the same people instead of fixing what drives them here. The government’s push to monitor immigrants’ social media under Executive Order 14161 only deepens the distrust, hinting at a future where even citizens could face endless scrutiny. It’s a distraction from the real issue: a border policy that’s all stick, no carrot.

History backs this up. The Secure Fence Act of 2006 promised control but shifted crossings to deadlier routes. Title 42, rolled out during the pandemic, turned deportation into a conveyor belt, yet recidivism climbed. Mendez’s three removals mirror a pattern decades in the making, one where enforcement flexes muscle but solves little. We’re stuck in a loop because we’ve bet everything on fear, not foresight.

There’s another way. Advocates for immigrant justice have long called for a shift, one that trades handcuffs for hope. Rehabilitation programs, expanded legal migration channels, and investment in countries like Guatemala could break this cycle. Imagine if Mendez had access to a visa process that didn’t demand years of waiting or impossible fees. Picture a system that addressed his crimes with accountability here, followed by support to reintegrate there, rather than a one-way ticket to nowhere. Research backs this up; nations with robust reintegration strategies see lower recidivism among deportees. It’s not soft, it’s smart.

Critics will cry foul, insisting that leniency invites chaos. They’ll say Mendez’s crimes prove we need ICE’s iron fist, that public safety hangs in the balance. Fair enough, his actions can’t be ignored. But locking him up, shipping him out, and watching him return isn’t safety, it’s insanity. The real chaos lies in pretending this works. ICE’s own stats from early 2025, boasting 32,800 arrests in 50 days, include serious offenders like MS-13 members. Yet, the agency’s dragnet also snares people whose only crime is desperation. A humane approach doesn’t mean open borders; it means targeting resources where they matter most.

This isn’t theory, it’s necessity. The current path burdens taxpayers, clogs courts, and leaves communities on both sides of the border no better off. Mendez’s fourth deportation won’t be his last unless we change the game. We need leaders bold enough to see migration as a human story, not a political football.

Abel Mendez’s journey through America’s immigration system is a tragedy of repetition, a man caught between punishment and perseverance. ICE can keep deporting him, and he’ll likely keep coming back, because the forces pushing him outweigh the walls we build. His story, and thousands like it, demands we stop settling for quick fixes and start demanding real ones. Public safety matters, absolutely, but it’s not served by a system that breeds the very threats it claims to stop.

The choice is ours. We can cling to a failing playbook, or we can forge a future where borders mean security and humanity, not just barbed wire and body counts. It’s time to invest in people, not just prisons, to see Mendez and others as more than statistics. Anything less is a betrayal of what this nation could be.