Imagine a world where a critically ill toddler, fighting for her life, is denied the very medication that could save her. This is not a dystopian novel—it’s the stark reality faced by 18-month-old Amalia, whose story has sparked outrage and raised alarming questions about the treatment of immigrant families in detention. But here’s where it gets even more shocking: after being hospitalized for life-threatening respiratory failure, Amalia was returned to an immigration detention center and denied the prescribed medication she desperately needed, according to a federal lawsuit filed last Friday.
Amalia’s ordeal began when she and her parents were detained at the Dilley Immigration Processing Center in South Texas, a facility that has long been criticized for its harsh conditions. Advocates and pediatric experts have repeatedly warned that such environments are unsafe for young children, yet hundreds remain confined there. Amalia, who had been healthy before her family’s arrest in El Paso, quickly fell ill. By mid-January, she was rushed to a children’s hospital in San Antonio, diagnosed with pneumonia, Covid-19, RSV, and severe respiratory distress.
“She was at the brink of dying,” said Elora Mukherjee, a Columbia Law School professor and director of the Immigrants’ Rights Clinic, who filed an emergency petition for the family’s release. After 10 days of intensive treatment, Amalia’s condition stabilized, but her nightmare was far from over. And this is the part most people miss: despite medical warnings that she remained vulnerable and at high risk of reinfection, immigration officials sent her back to Dilley, where she was denied access to her prescribed medication. Her parents were forced to wait in long, outdoor lines daily, only to be turned away without the life-saving treatments their daughter needed.
Amalia’s case has brought renewed scrutiny to Dilley, especially after the detention of 5-year-old Liam Conejo Ramos, whose photograph in a blue bunny hat as he was led away by officers sparked national outrage. Accounts from detained families, their lawyers, and court filings paint a grim picture: children served contaminated food, denied adequate education, and struggling to access basic medical care. Sworn declarations from parents describe the profound physical and psychological toll of prolonged confinement, including regression, weight loss, recurring illnesses, and nightmares.
Here’s the controversial part: while the Department of Homeland Security defends family detention as providing basic necessities and ensuring safety, cases like Amalia’s raise serious doubts. CoreCivic, the company operating Dilley, claims the health and safety of detainees is their top priority, but Amalia’s story suggests otherwise. Why was a medically fragile toddler returned to a facility where her life was at risk? And why were her prescribed medications withheld?
Amalia’s parents, Kheilin Valero Marcano and Stiven Arrieta Prieto, fled Venezuela due to political persecution and sought asylum in the U.S. They followed all immigration requirements, including regular check-ins and participation in a monitoring program. Yet, they were detained and transferred to Dilley, over 500 miles from their community in El Paso. Once there, Amalia’s health rapidly deteriorated, and her parents’ pleas for help were met with inadequate care.
After Mukherjee filed an emergency habeas corpus petition, Amalia and her family were finally released. But the trauma of their experience will likely last a lifetime. Now, here’s the question that lingers: How can a system that claims to prioritize safety and humanity allow such suffering? Is this an isolated incident, or a symptom of a deeper issue? We invite you to share your thoughts in the comments—do you believe family detention centers are ever justifiable, or is it time for a radical overhaul of the system?
