‘Please don’t die’: Wife’s desperate vigil as ICE keeps comatose husband under lock and watch

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Ruta Deshpande
Ruta Deshpande is a seasoned Defense Technology Analyst with a strong focus on cutting-edge military innovations and strategic defense systems. With a deep-rooted interest in geopolitics and international relations, she brings nuanced insights into the intersection of technology, diplomacy, and global security. Ruta has reported extensively on defense modernization, space militarization, and evolving Indo-Pacific dynamics. As a journalist, she has contributed sharp, well-researched pieces to Deftechtimes, a reputed defense and strategy publication. Her analytical writing reflects a strong grasp of global military doctrines and regional conflict zones. Ruta has a particular interest in the Arctic race, cyber warfare capabilities, and unmanned combat systems. She is known for breaking down complex defense narratives into accessible, compelling stories. Her background includes collaborations with think tanks and participation in strategic dialogue forums.

Miguel Angel Garcia Medina was a 31-year-old father, husband, and house painter from Arlington, Texas, whose life intersected with an ICE operation in a way no one expected. Just weeks before tragedy struck, he spent his days laughing with his four children, meeting his 8-year-old daughter for school lunch, and preparing excitedly for the arrival of his fifth baby boy.

But everything changed on the morning of September 24, 2025.

A Family’s Life Changes in Seconds After ICE Detention

Garcia had been arrested weeks earlier on a first-time DWI charge. Even though no one was hurt and the companion charge of evading arrest was dismissed, he was held at Tarrant County Jail. His family knew that the county had a 287(g) agreement with ICE, meaning undocumented immigrants could be handed over to federal agents—even if they were charged with nonviolent offenses.

His wife, Stephany Gauffeny, a U.S. citizen, hoped keeping him in jail until the case was handled would prevent ICE from detaining him. It was a plan she and Garcia’s attorney carefully made. But after Garcia’s court date, ICE took custody anyway.

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By dawn the next morning, Garcia was one of several detainees inside a transport van outside an ICE facility in Dallas. That is where a gunman launched a sudden, deadly attack.

The Shooting That No One Saw Coming

Authorities said the shooter, 29-year-old Joshua Jahn, climbed onto a nearby roof with an 8mm bolt-action rifle and opened fire around 6:30 a.m., allegedly targeting ICE agents. Bullets ripped through the vans holding detainees—shackled and unable to escape. Inside one of them was Garcia.

A fellow detainee later told Garcia’s family that moments before the shooting, Garcia had been talking about his children. When the gunfire erupted, he shielded another detainee with his body as rounds tore through the vehicle.

Panic followed. The back door was locked, the van didn’t move, and detainees pleaded for help as shots continued. Norland Guzman Fuentes of El Salvador was killed instantly, and Jose Andres Bordones-Molina of Venezuela was wounded.

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Federal agents said ICE officers tried to save lives, though detainees offered conflicting accounts. Officials have yet to answer detailed questions, leaving families searching for clarity. Jahn was later found dead from an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound.

Garcia was rushed to Parkland Memorial Hospital, revived with CPR, and underwent emergency surgery. He remained in a coma with severe brain swelling and multiple gunshot wounds. His wife described seeing him as “traumatic”—his face swollen beyond recognition. Even in the hospital, two ICE agents stayed in the room, guarding him as if he were still in custody.

A Family Left With Pain, Questions, and an Empty Space at Home Following an ICE Incident

Stephany visited the hospital every day, whispering to Garcia and begging him to wake up. For a moment, doctors thought he might improve—he gagged during a reflex test and his shoulders twitched—but his condition quickly deteriorated. His brain swelling returned, and his blood pressure crashed. On September 29, doctors warned the family that his heart could stop at any time.

ICE allowed his deported mother and brother to enter the U.S. one last time to say goodbye. That night, surrounded by his family, Garcia was taken off life support. He breathed on his own for a few minutes before dying at 10:48 p.m.

Three days later, Stephany gave birth to their baby, Miles, while also answering funeral-home calls about caskets and burial arrangements. What hurt her most, she said, was that after Garcia died, ICE immediately told her she could finally take his body. “I don’t get him until he passes away,” she said. “Then they’re like, ‘Here you go.’”

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Garcia was buried on October 9. At home, reminders of him remain—his tools, his clothes, his toothbrush. His 3-year-old still asks for “Papi,” and his 8-year-old daughter hides her tears. Stephany keeps asking why the transport van was left exposed, why ICE hasn’t answered questions about the gunfire or the detainees’ final moments, and what her husband felt as he slipped into silence.

On November 2, the family visited his grave for Día de los Muertos. As they left, his daughter Makayla ran back and placed a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup—her Halloween favorite—beside his photo. “Bye, Papi,” she whispered. “I love you.”

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