His mom was detained by ICE. Two months later, he died by suicide

In May, when Samuel Gonzalez Terrones was diagnosed with depression and schizophrenia, he started seeing a therapist and taking medication that he hoped would finally alleviate the dark thoughts that had begun creeping up so frequently he would sometimes seek help by calling the police on himself.

A month later, his mom, Minerva Terrones Dominguez, 54, had just hopped off a bus on her way to a grocery store in San Bernardino when immigration agents arrested her for being in the country illegally. While she languished in detention, the family said, Samuel grew increasingly despondent.

To help pay for an immigration lawyer, his siblings and dad had taken up extra shifts at their jobs. But because Samuel’s condition meant he couldn’t hold a steady job, he spent more and more time alone at home in Rialto.

“My mom was the one who would take care of him when he would have those bad thoughts,” said his older sister Sari Gonzalez, 32. “Everybody would be at work or at school, so my mom was the only one that would be here to calm him down, to say, ‘Your siblings will be here in a bit, just wait.’”

The lawyer, Arturo Burga, had figured out a way to free Minerva from detention and allow her to stay permanently in the U.S. The legal pathway, called cancellation of removal, hinged on proving that her deportation would cause extreme hardship to a U.S. citizen: Samuel.

They never got to file the paperwork.

At 3:55 a.m. on Aug. 12, San Bernardino police responded to a railroad crossing. Samuel was pronounced dead at the scene, according to a San Bernardino County coroner’s news release. He was 21.

In a letter Samuel wrote before his death, an excerpt of which was shared with The Times, he talked about his mother’s detention. He said her being taken away by Immigration and Customs Enforcement made him feel like he’d hit “one last wall.”

“To the ICE agent who took away my mother: I hope it was worth it,” Samuel wrote. “I can’t handle anymore injustices in this world.”

Motivations for suicide are often complex and unknowable, and it’s unclear how the Trump administration’s aggressive immigration policies may have moved an immigrant or family member to harm themselves. But immigrant advocates say they have heard of such deaths.

This month, a 20-year-old Haitian man in Springfield, Ohio, walked into oncoming traffic after the Trump administration ended his Temporary Protected Status and ICE fitted him with an ankle monitor.

In May, the Associated Press found that at least 10 detainees had died by suicide since President Trump took office — a pace that far exceeds the growth in the detainee population.

ICE did not respond to requests for comment.

Samuel’s family describes him, the second youngest of seven siblings, as a caring and generous person who, at his best, was quick to laugh, loved chocolate conchas and video games, and dreamed of becoming a graphic designer.

He kept a dark aesthetic, with a lip piercing and nails frequently painted black or red. But he also had a lighter side, Sari said, as evidenced by the Hannah Montana stickers decorating his bedroom wall.

When the siblings were younger, they worked out together and would challenge each other to see how many pull-ups they could do. They liked hanging out at a skate park, laughing as he guided Sari’s small dog, Polar, down a rail on a board.

His mental health struggles started in 2021, when he was a freshman at Cajon High School. Little by little, he lost his passion for the gym, Sari said, and everything else.

An undated photo of Samuel Gonzalez Terrones.

(Gonzalez family)

Sari said she and her siblings each played a different role in helping Samuel through his struggles. He and his younger sister played video games. Sari would talk to him about adulthood. Their older brother would take him to church. On good days, their father would bring him along to landscaping jobs.

“He really did try to get better,” she said. “He held on for a really long time, and I’m proud of him for being so strong.”

The day Minerva was detained, Samuel and Sari were at home.

According to a federal court petition seeking Minerva’s release from ICE custody, federal agents stopped her, said she “looked like someone” they were seeking and mocked her when they found her EBT card while searching her belongings.

Minerva has lived in the U.S. for 33 years, had never been arrested or convicted of a crime and had never been in removal proceedings, according to her lawyer.

Sari said an ICE agent called her and said she had an hour to pick up her mother’s things from the agency’s local office and to say goodbye before ICE moved her to a detention center.

Samuel was inconsolable. “I’ve never seen him cry like that,” Sari said.

Sari took up extra hours at the plastics factory where she works as a machine operator. On Sundays, her only day off each week, she would take Samuel and their youngest sister to visit their mom at the Adelanto ICE Processing Center. The drive was 45 minutes without traffic, but they’d always arrive three hours early to join other families on the wait list to see loved ones.

On the way to the facility, Samuel was visibly happy. But on the way home, Sari said, all would be crying.

Friends and relatives attend the graveside service for Samuel Gonzalez Terrones.

(Gina Ferazzi/Los Angeles Times)

The extra expense of legal representation left the family struggling to pay for bills and food. In the evenings, Samuel stopping spending time with his siblings and retreated to his bedroom.

Burga, the lawyer, alerted ICE of Samuel’s death via email and requested Minerva’s emergency release under humanitarian grounds. He said the ICE deportation officer who replied struck a softer tone than usual, offering sincere condolences to the family.

“Our office was devastated,” said Amber Burga, executive director of the law firm. “I thought to myself, it takes somebody committing suicide for them to have compassion.”

Sari waited two weeks to tell Minerva. She waited, in part, because her mom had an upcoming court hearing and she didn’t want grief to cloud her thinking.

Sari was given 10 minutes in a visitation room to break the news about Samuel’s death to her mother.

“It was just me, my aunt and the officer who was watching,” she said. “When I told her, they wouldn’t even let me hug her while my mom was crying. They told me, ‘You can’t hug her. You can’t touch her.’”

Three days later, on Aug. 31, a federal judge — who didn’t know about Samuel’s death — issued an order granting her petition for release from detention, finding that she had been held illegally “based solely on DHS’s mistake.”

In her ruling, U.S. District Judge Brianna Fuller Mircheff wrote that when Minerva was detained, another federal judge had already declared it unlawful for Homeland Security to require mandatory detention for people who, like her, had entered the U.S. illegally.

Minerva had been arrested without a warrant, and an immigration judge had not determined whether she was a flight risk or a danger to the public.

Referring to Minerva and similar cases, Mircheff wrote, “Hundreds, if not thousands of individuals were held without process that was owed to them.”

Lawyers for the federal government had argued that Minerva could simply wait until she had been detained for six months, at which point she’d be entitled to a bond hearing, court records show. That suggestion didn’t fly with Mircheff, either.

“It is beyond cruel to suggest that this Court would let her sit in custody another four months,” she wrote.

Minerva is still in deportation proceedings. Without Samuel, she no longer qualifies for the legal pathway her lawyers had built a case around. Sari said she’s now considering joining the U.S. military to access the immigration benefits available for undocumented parents of enlisted members.

The family started a fundraiser to cover the cost of Samuel’s funeral.

Samuel’s parents, siblings, and a few dozen other family members and friends arrived on Sept. 22 at noon to bury him at the Rialto Park Cemetery. Each person held a white, long-stemmed rose.

Sari sobbed. Minerva looked on at the black casket holding her youngest boy, the goofball who loved his family, the one who had longed for her support while she was detained.

Times staff photographer Gina Ferazzi contributed to this report.

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