After four months and several court hearings,the wife of a U.S. Army Reserve Black Hawk pilotwas released earlier this week from an ICE detention facility in Houston.
Stephanie Kenny-Velasquez, who is from Venezuela, was detained in December just two days after marrying Chris Busby. On Tuesday, Busby, 28, stood outside the detention center with flowers and a smile waiting to hug his wife for the first time this year.
"I just can't believe it," he said on the phone. "We've waited so long."
Kenny-Velasquez was released after a federal judge ruled that her due process rights had been violated when immigration officers detained her last year. She had previously applied for asylum and was released into the U.S. in 2021.
Still, Kenny-Velasquez said she couldn't let herself celebrate until she was back in his arms.
"I was in shock. I'm still in shock," Kenny-Velasquez, 25, said Wednesday. "I'm just trying to process everything."
In an emailed statement, a spokesperson for the Department of Homeland Security said all of Kenny-Velasquez's claims will be heard in immigration court and "will receive full due process."
But her pending asylum case does not grant her legal status in the U.S, the statement continued, noting that she was released into the country under the Biden, not Trump, administration.
"Being in detention is a choice. We encourage all illegal aliens to take control of their departure with the CBP Home App," the statement read in part."
Kenny-Velasquez's first night home wasn't as easy as she hoped. She cried thinking about the dozens of other women who were still inside the large room they shared for several months. Without any privacy, the 60 or so detainees, who speak a range of languages, had grown close.
Some were from Spanish-speaking countries like El Salvador, Honduras and Cuba. Others came to the United States in search of a better life from Vietnam, Russia, Romania and China, she said.
"There's people with family, with kids. I feel bad because I'm here and they're still inside," she said. "Chris said it's called survivor's guilt."
The oldest person she met, a woman from Venezuela, was 72 and had difficulty accessing medication on several occasions, Kenny-Velasquez said.
In the emailed statement, DHS said all detainees receive medical, dental and mental health care within 12 hours of arriving at a facility and have access to 24-hour emergency care.
Kenny-Velasquez said the women slept in bunk beds and shared a bathroom without doors, even for shower stalls and toilets. They woke up at 4:30 a.m. for breakfast — usually oatmeal and bread — and spent the rest of the day reading, talking or cleaning. The women had to be awake at 10 p.m. for the final head count. Gripped with fear and panic, they found sleep was nearly impossible, and Kenny-Velasquez said she endured multiple anxiety attacks.
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"Everything in there is made to feel uncomfortable," she said, adding that she didn't eat a single piece of fruit the whole time she was detained.
In Austin, Texas, where the couple lives, Busby dedicated much of the past few months to freeing his wife. He reached out to lawyers, media, hisformer Army Reservecommanders and local lawmakers asking for help. Nothing seemed to move the needle, not even his years of service dating back to 2015.
Kenny-Velasquez was denied bond on Jan. 9. Lawyers representing the Trump administration argued that she was a flight risk despite her recent marriage and strong ties to the area. She has a brother and extended family who live in Texas, including relatives that have been there for years.
Devastated, Busby found an attorney who specialized in filing habeas petitions for detained immigrants. These petitions are crucial to securing releases for noncitizens by allowing them to challenge their detention in federal, not immigration, court.
Federal judges serve under the U.S. Constitution while immigration judges serve in an administrative wing of the Department of Justice, explained Kenny-Velasquez's lawyer, Javier Rivera.
On Monday, Rivera stood before a U.S. district judge for the Southern District of Texas and successfully argued that his client's right to due process had been violated.
Rivera pointed to her pending asylum case, which dates to 2021, when she first presented herself to border agents. Like many Venezuelans, she and her brother came to the U.S. to escape economic instability and find better job prospects.
At that time she was briefly detained and released on parole while her application was reviewed. Kenny-Velasquez agreed to regularly check in with immigration officials and waited four years for her asylum case to be heard.
She does not have a criminal record, according to her lawyer and public records.
It was during one of those routine appointments that Kenny-Velasquez was detained. She had heard the stories of other people who were taken during check-ins, but both Busby and Kenny-Velasquez assumed that her existing parole would be enough to protect her.
It wasn't. So instead of preparing for an upcoming real estate licensing exam, she was whisked away to an ICE holding room and then sent by bus to the Montgomery Processing Center in Conroe, Texas. She was later relocated to the Houston facility.
She remained there for about four days and hardly ate the entire time due to anxiety and the low quality of food.
"I was ready to sign" out of sheer panic, she said of the option to self-deport.
Now that she and Busby have been reunited, the couple must wait as Rivera attempts to secure permanent residency for Kenny-Velasquez. She has an asylum hearing scheduled for 2027 and is also applying to two different programs that allow noncitizens to "parole in place."
Rivera said he recommends "not taking anything off the table."
"I don't really care which is successful as long as it's successful," he said.