It is exhausting to hear some of my fellow countrymen echo political rhetoric with blanket statements like, “I don’t support criminals” or “Deport the criminals.” Such statements disregard the complexities of the US legal and immigration systems, the disproportionate impact on communities of color, and the fundamental legal principle that punishment should be proportionate to the crime. No one is arguing that those who commit crimes should not be held accountable, but we must recognize the deeper injustices within the legal system and the devastating consequences of deporting individuals who have already served their sentences.
Recently, eight Bhutanese-Americans were detained by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) in Ohio and Pennsylvania. While these individuals have had past encounters with law enforcement, most of their cases involve domestic violence (DV), petty theft, vandalism, or driving while intoxicated (DWI)—offenses for which they have already served their sentences. Their continued detention appears to be less about public safety and more indicative of an immigration system that disproportionately targets refugees and minority communities, often punishing them beyond what the law originally required.
What makes this situation even more troubling is that many of these detainees do not have current offenses and were simply waiting for court clearance or status updates on their immigration documents. Others pleaded guilty in past cases without fully understanding the legal consequences, often due to language barriers, lack of legal counsel, and financial constraints. For them, a guilty plea was simply the fastest way to return to work and provide for their families. Now, they find themselves facing potential deportation.
To understand why immigrants, refugees, and people of color are disproportionately affected by deportation policies, one must first examine racial disparities in the US legal system. Studies have consistently shown that Black and Latino individuals are three to six times more likely to be incarcerated than white individuals for the same crimes. The American Immigration Council has reported that immigrants and refugees face higher arrest rates due to racial profiling, over-policing, and lack of legal representation.
Even more disturbing is the history of wrongful convictions, particularly among racial minorities. The Innocence Project has documented numerous cases where individuals were sentenced to life in prison, only for DNA evidence to later prove their innocence. The justice system is not infallible, and when racial bias is factored in, the odds are stacked against non-white defendants. If wrongful convictions can happen to US citizens, imagine the struggles faced by immigrants and refugees with limited legal resources.
Unjust prosecution
To illustrate how circumstantial charges disproportionately impact minorities and immigrants, let me share three cases—among many—from the Bhutanese refugee community in which I had to intervene over the past ten years in my role as a community advocate.
In 2018, a Bhutanese-American high school student in Columbus, Ohio, was arrested simply for downloading a picture of an airgun from Instagram while using a school library computer. The school considered this a serious offense, and he was nearly expelled in his senior year. It took multiple court hearings and legal advocacy to allow him to graduate, though he was barred from walking with his classmates at the ceremony. It took years to clear his record—a record that could have jeopardized his future immigration status.
Another case involved a Bhutanese refugee who was arrested while fishing in Delaware County, Ohio. He was using a fishing net legally purchased at Walmart, but authorities charged him because the holes in his net were slightly smaller than the legal limit. With no knowledge of this obscure regulation, he was thrown in jail instead of being issued a simple warning or fine.
A third case involved a young Bhutanese mother in her twenties who suffered from schizophrenia. One night, during her first psychotic episode, she became paranoid and attacked her husband. Her husband, not knowing what was happening, called the police for help. Instead of receiving mental health intervention, she was charged with domestic violence and jailed for a month. It was only after significant advocacy that she received a psychiatric evaluation and treatment. Again, it took two years to clear her record, allowing her to apply for US citizenship.
Had these cases occurred within the last five years, under current ICE crackdowns, all three individuals would likely have ended up in detention, facing potential deportation.
One of the most critical challenges facing Bhutanese immigrants at risk of deportation is the tendency to plead guilty without fully understanding the long-term consequences. Many community members accept plea deals for minor infractions simply because: They lack access to adequate legal representation or informed legal counsel, they do not possess the English proficiency necessary to fully understand the charges, plea terms, or the broader legal implications, and they are under intense pressure to return to work and provide for their families as quickly as possible.
In one case, a Bhutanese man in Ohio was charged with domestic violence, and his bond was set at $1,500, requiring just 10 percent ($150) for release. With no English skills and no local family support, he was unable to arrange the payment and ended up spending 28 days in jail—not because of the severity of his offense, but simply because he couldn’t afford bail.
By the time he was released, he had lost his job and had been evicted from his apartment, leaving him homeless for several months.
This case is not an exception—it is a reflection of a legal system where the ability to navigate or pay determines outcomes. For many in the Bhutanese community, a guilty plea made out of desperation or confusion becomes the basis for future immigration consequences, including the threat of deportation.
No country to deport to
If ICE detains resettled Bhutanese refugees, the question becomes: Where can they be deported to? The United States has no formal diplomatic relations with Bhutan, making direct deportation nearly impossible. Meanwhile, Nepal does not recognize former Bhutanese citizens, nor does it accept deported individuals from third countries, particularly those resettled through the UNHCR program.
But the issue is not just logistical—it is deeply humanitarian and legal. According to a March 2025 report by Human Rights Watch, UN experts have found that Bhutan is illegally detaining political prisoners, many of whom belong to the ethnic Nepali minority. These prisoners have been subjected to arbitrary arrests, life sentences without parole, and inhumane treatment, in clear violation of international law.
If resettled Bhutanese refugees were forcibly returned to Bhutan, they could face renewed persecution, arbitrary detention, or even torture and death—the very conditions they fled in the first place. Under the UN Convention Against Torture, to which the United States is a party, it is prohibited to deport individuals to a country where they are likely to face torture or cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment.
Therefore, deporting Bhutanese refugees is not only unfair—it is inhumane, unlawful under international conventions, and morally indefensible. These individuals were granted refuge in the United States for a reason. To send them back would be to undo that protection and risk their lives once again.
When self-proclaimed “law and order” patriots demand the deportation of all non-citizens with criminal records, they ignore the deep flaws within the legal system.
This fight is not about excusing crime—it is about ensuring fairness and preventing double punishment. If a Bhutanese refugee has already served their sentence, they should not face additional punishment in the form of deportation.
If we fail to advocate for those detained by ICE, we risk allowing families to be torn apart and lives to be destroyed. As a community, we must push for no deportation for resettled Bhutanese refugees, access to fair legal representation and translation services and proportional justice—no one should be punished twice for the same crime.
The Bhutanese refugee community must speak out against these injustices. Deportation is not a solution—it is a moral and legal failure.
Call for justice
At the heart of this issue is a fundamental question: Does justice mean punishing someone twice for the same crime, or does it mean ensuring that punishment is fair, proportional, and humane? The U.S. legal system, flawed as it may be, is built on principles of justice, yet the targeting of Bhutanese refugees and other immigrant communities by ICE exposes deep inequities. These individuals, many of whom have already served their sentences, are not only being punished again but also face the possibility of exile to a country that will not even take them back.
The injustice is clear. The Bhutanese refugees in ICE detention are not criminals in the way political rhetoric often frames them. They are workers, fathers, mothers, and students—people who have contributed to their communities and sought to build better lives in a country that once welcomed them. Many of them fell through the cracks of a legal system they did not fully understand, navigating language barriers, financial hardship, and systemic discrimination.
If the resettled Bhutanese refugees were forcibly returned to Bhutan, they could face renewed persecution, arbitrary detention, or even torture and death—the very conditions they fled in the first place.
Deporting these individuals does nothing to make America safer. It does not prevent crime, nor does it serve justice. Instead, it tears families apart, removes people from their homes, and inflicts lasting harm on already vulnerable communities. If deportation was once seen as a tool for removing violent threats, today it is being wielded indiscriminately, targeting those with minor offenses, legal missteps, or simply the misfortune of being poor and uninformed about their rights.
This is not just a legal issue—it is a moral one. What kind of society do we want to be? One that exiles people who have already paid their dues and treats them as disposable? Or one that upholds the principles of fairness, due process, and second chances?
If the Bhutanese community and our allies do not stand up now, more families will be shattered, more futures will be lost, and more of our people will face an uncertain fate in detention centers. This is a moment to demand justice, advocate for fairness, and remind America of its responsibility to those it once promised protection.
We are not asking for special treatment. We are asking for basic fairness—that no one should be punished twice for the same crime, and that no one should be deported when there is no country to deport them to. If America still believes in justice, it must prove it now.
Sudarshan Pyakurel is the Executive Director of the Bhutanese Community of Central Ohio.
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