Liam Ramos Case Sparks Renewed Scrutiny of ICE Detention Practices

They didn’t anticipate a young child. When the picture of Liam Ramos wearing a blue bunny hat started to circulate, organizers at the first protest in San Antonio made a quiet admission that captured the emotions of many. It wasn’t merely viral. It persisted.

At his school in Minnesota, Liam had recently completed tracing the letter “W.” He and his father were arrested by ICE a few hours later. They were in Texas, 1,300 miles away, by the following morning. Just the bus ride took almost a whole day. The majority of kids forget the specifics. Liam did. He requested permission to bring his drawing. They declined.

Despite being a neat bureaucratic term, the Dilley Detention Center’s description of itself as a “family residential facility” feels remarkably deceptive. After meeting Liam in person, Representative Joaquin Castro made it clear that the child was withdrawn, lethargic, and noticeably thinner. Castro remarked, “He misses his classmates.” It’s a powerful statement, particularly coming from a five-year-old who still mixes up Tuesday and Thursday.

Liam’s case has expanded over the last few weeks. Not because the law is complicated—it’s quite simple—but rather because of the feelings it aroused in people of all political persuasions. His family applied for asylum, entered the country legally, and awaited their hearing. Despite this, ICE detained them on the basis of a procedural irregularity that, according to legal experts, is no longer valid.

Representative Jasmine Crockett questioned a senior officer about the number of inmates at Dilley with criminal records during a recent facility tour. “Oh no, you can’t be here and have a record,” was the prompt and obvious response. That was especially instructive. For the sake of public safety, families like Liam’s are not being taken away. The system that processes them is becoming more and more oriented toward optics rather than results.

Her description gives Dilley a clear and distinct image. Teens taking care of young children. Shirts are hand-washed by mothers in communal sinks. Makeshift classrooms with no actual teachers that seem noticeably empty. Some lawmakers claim that some kids haven’t seen the outside world in more than two months.

According to ICE, the typical length of incarceration is less than 30 days. However, these figures seem greatly skewed on the ground. Some families claim to have been detained for ninety days or longer, while others have received offers of money—in some cases, $2,500—to leave the country willingly. These offers carry a great deal of pressure and are frequently made without the presence of legal counsel.

Community organizations had organized vigils in five states by the middle of February. Open letters calling for Liam’s release were published by pediatricians. A Colorado religious leader called the situation “a theological emergency.” It is uncommon for a child’s incarceration to completely alter a conversation, but in Liam’s case, it has.

Both houses of Congress have been affected by the mounting backlash. In a particularly vehement floor speech, Senator Patty Murray denounced the detention as “a complete failure of humane governance.” Even though they were less outspoken, a number of Republican lawmakers reportedly urged the administration to reevaluate the optics, particularly as election season heats up.

The rapid mobilization of public awareness is remarkable. Organizers conveyed a message that spreadsheets could never convey by incorporating Liam’s picture into protest signs. He came to represent a system that was covertly breaking its own rules, not criminal activity or policy flaws.

When I read that Liam now sleeps for the majority of the day, I recall thinking that this was similar to the emotional detachment that is frequently observed in institutionalized care. Although it was a subtle line, it conveyed a lot.

A federal judge is currently hearing his case and has temporarily put a stop to any deportation attempts. However, the terms of that stay mandate that the father and child stay in Dilley under supervision. They have been spared removal but not confinement, which creates an inevitable paradox.

Citing confidentiality and an ongoing legal review, ICE has not yet provided a clear explanation for the detention. In response, advocacy attorneys point out that Liam’s file was comprehensive, current, and openly recorded. Not a threat. No mistakes. A family merely requesting due process.

Other kids in the facility now call Liam by name. Some refer to him as “Conejito,” which means “little rabbit.” Others give away crayons and small gestures of kindness, which are particularly heartwarming in a setting where time is frequently a blur. Another boy who had lost his sister during migration received Liam’s drawing, according to a volunteer. She remembered, “He said he wanted to share the colors.”

Liam’s school in Columbia Heights has made modest efforts to stay in touch. A card was signed by his classmates. They wanted to know if he would return in time for spring break. The instructor was unsure of how to react.

The discussion surrounding family detention is being significantly reframed by focusing on this one case. The discussion is no longer confined to legal experts or federal policy designers. It’s taking place at community board meetings, church basements, and kitchen tables.

The administration may soon have to decide whether to increase detention or adopt a more open and compassionate approach. One that views situations like Liam’s as the urgent need for reform rather than as exceptions.

In this instance, hope is not theoretical. It is sleeping soundly in a dorm cot, sporting floppy ears and a blue hat.