A Federal Judge Ruled Her Detention Illegal, but the Damage to a Son’s Life Was Already Done
Without her son to anchor a hardship defense, Minerva Terrones Dominguez lost her path to cancellation of removal despite a federal ruling that her arrest lacked a warrant.

U.S. District Judge Brianna Fuller Mircheff ruled on Aug. 31 that holding Minerva Terrones Dominguez in immigration custody was unlawful, finding she had been arrested without a warrant and detained “based solely on DHS’s mistake.” The federal court order came 19 days too late for her 21-year-old son.
Samuel Gonzalez Terrones died at a railroad crossing in San Bernardino at 3:55 a.m. on Aug. 12, according to the San Bernardino County coroner’s office. He left behind a letter directing his final words at the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent who took his mother away, writing that he could not handle any more injustices.
The sequence of events exposes how aggressive immigration enforcement tactics intersect with severe mental health vulnerabilities, dismantling family support systems that clinicians consider essential for patients managing acute psychiatric conditions. When Terrones was seized in June while walking from a bus stop to a grocery store in San Bernardino, agents told her she resembled someone they were seeking. She had lived in the United States for 33 years without an arrest or criminal conviction. During the search of her belongings, agents mocked her EBT card, according to a federal court petition filed by her attorney, Arturo Burga.
For Gonzalez, the arrest severed his primary psychological lifeline. Diagnosed two months earlier with depression and schizophrenia, he had begun therapy and medication after his dark thoughts became so frequent he would call police on himself to intervene. Because his condition prevented him from maintaining steady employment, he spent most of his time at the family home in Rialto. His mother served as his immediate crisis intervention when panic set in while his six siblings were at work or school.
Once she was moved to the Adelanto ICE Processing Center, the family’s structure collapsed under dual pressures. Relatives absorbed extra shifts at plastics factories and landscaping jobs to fund legal representation, leaving Gonzalez isolated. Visits to Adelanto required arriving three hours before scheduled times just to join the waitlist, consuming the family’s only day off each week. As financial strain mounted, Gonzalez withdrew to his bedroom, abandoning the video games, gym routines, and church visits his siblings used to anchor his stability.
Burga had mapped a legal pathway known as cancellation of removal, which allows certain undocumented immigrants to remain permanently if deportation would cause exceptional and extremely unusual hardship to a U.S. citizen relative. Gonzalez’s citizenship and documented psychiatric crisis formed the foundation of that defense. The paperwork was never filed.
Immigration attorneys report that cancellation of removal cases demand extensive medical documentation, psychological evaluations, and affidavits proving that no alternative care exists for the qualifying relative. The strategy is frequently deployed when a vulnerable family member relies entirely on the applicant for daily survival, making the sudden loss of the U.S. citizen petitioner legally catastrophic for the parent’s case.
Following Gonzalez’s death, Burga emailed ICE requesting emergency humanitarian release for Terrones. Amber Burga, executive director of the firm, noted the deportation officer who responded offered sincere condolences—a shift in tone the firm found devastating, realizing it took a suicide to generate compassion from the agency. Sari Gonzalez, Samuel’s older sister, waited two weeks to inform her mother, timing the disclosure around an upcoming court hearing to prevent grief from impairing her testimony. During the 10-minute visitation window granted to deliver the news, guards prohibited physical contact while Terrones wept.
When Judge Mircheff issued the release order, she was unaware of the suicide. She explicitly rejected government arguments that Terrones should simply wait until her six-month mark for a mandatory bond hearing, calling the prospect of four additional months in custody “beyond cruel” and noting that hundreds or thousands of individuals had been held without due process.
Terrones remains in deportation proceedings. Without her son, the cancellation of removal claim evaporated. Sari Gonzalez is now exploring enlistment in the U.S. military to access immigration benefits available to undocumented parents of service members, a complex legal avenue governed by specific provisions of the Immigration and Nationality Act.
Gonzalez’s trajectory mirrors a broader pattern emerging across immigration enforcement operations this year. An Associated Press investigation identified at least 10 detainee suicides since January, a rate outpacing the expansion of the detention population. In Ohio, a 20-year-old Haitian man walked into traffic after losing Temporary Protected Status and being fitted with an ankle monitor. ICE has not responded to inquiries regarding the rising mortality figures or operational protocols for identifying vulnerable individuals during street-level arrests.
Gonzalez, who painted his nails black or red and kept Hannah Montana stickers on his bedroom wall, dreamed of becoming a graphic designer. His family buried him at Rialto Park Cemetery on Sept. 22. Terrones, released from Adelanto by federal order, stood among the dozens of mourners holding white roses over the casket of the son whose existence was supposed to secure her freedom.
If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts, call or text 988 to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, or text HOME to 741741 to connect with the Crisis Text Line.












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