By Arlo Pérez Esquivel
The future of more than 150,000 immigrants without legal status in Colorado hangs in the balance as President-elect Donald Trump returns to the White House today.
Among his most prominent campaign promises was a campaign of mass deportations — including that “Operation Aurora” would target “every migrant criminal network” in the city of Aurora and beyond.
With stark threats but few details, new and undocumented immigrants are grappling with fear and uncertainty. CPR reconnected with the Rodriguez Espinoza family, a Venezuelan household we first met in 2023 to see how they are preparing for the next four years.
The family emigrated from Venezuela in November 2022, crossing the Rio Grande with scores of others, then turned themselves in to Border Patrol — the only way for immigrants who are fleeing the country’s severe economic and political crisis to make an asylum claim.
Although their petition for asylum remains in the bureaucratic process in Denver, they have spent the past two years building a life for themselves in the Denver metro area — one they fear they’ll have to abandon once again.
'I am from Venezuela. This is my family.'
The Rodriguez Espinoza’s small family living room is filled with family photos and glass tanks for beta fish and a snake. On a recent Saturday, two teenage daughters sat on a couch — the youngest had a splint on her leg. And the family’s 4-year-old boy ran around showing us his puppy.
“He was lonely all the time, so he was given a puppy to keep him company,” his mom, Karelys Espinoza, said in Spanish.
The family has created a strong support network since arriving in Colorado. They’ve made friends here, and family members have come to join them in the Denver area
“My mom has been here for a year. My sisters, my nephew and we have been here for two,” Espinoza said. “They were afraid of leaving Venezuela and confronting a different country. But we convinced them when we said there is at least some food here.”
The kids’ father, Luis Rodriguez, walked into the room wearing a bright yellow vest. He had been working on a car outside on the sidewalk. Rodriguez has a work permit. He works one job in remodeling and a second at a dog toy factory.
Neither parent has been able to secure employment in their original profession. Rodriguez was in the Venezuelan military. Espinoza, who now works at a restaurant, previously worked in hotels and was studying to be a paralegal. But both parents hold jobs they describe as honorable. And they are deeply grateful for the opportunity to provide for their children.
“We came to this country to give them a future,” Espinoza said, looking at her children. “To avoid the oppression and to avoid them literally dying of starvation. At least here they have breakfast, lunch and dinner, and schooling. They didn’t go to school for two years in Venezuela because we could not provide it to them there.”
Both parents proudly spoke about how well their children were doing in school — Abraham Lincoln High School, a bilingual institution in Denver. Some of the school’s teachers previously fled Venezuela, just like this family did, and teaching English is a primary focus.
“My name is Karelim, I am from Venezuela. This is my family,” the oldest daughter, Karelim, said in English into a reporter’s microphone, showing off what she has learned.
Neither parent speaks English — so their kids’ new language skills have been a lifesaver, helping the family navigate the day-to-day complexities of life in the U.S.
Despite these successes, the family is deeply worried about the incoming Trump administration. Rodriguez shifted uncomfortably in his chair while discussing his fears of being deported. He and Espinoza sold everything they owned to come to the U.S. If they are deported, they say they’ll have nothing to return to and be worse off than when they left.
“We, like many of the families, we sold everything. Everything,” Rodriguez said. “If they grab us and send us back, we will arrive on the streets. We won't have a place to live. We won’t have money. Nothing.”
In October, during a visit to the city of Aurora, Trump announced plans for a nationwide initiative called "Operation Aurora." This proposed effort would focus on removing non-citizens convicted of violent crimes from the country.
Later, Trump elaborated that, if elected, he would immediately launch “the largest deportation program in American history,” leveraging a 227-year-old law to expedite the removal of undocumented migrants. He also stated that the National Guard or other U.S. military forces would be involved in carrying out these deportations.
While much of the rhetoric has emphasized targeting criminals and gang members, critics have raised concerns about the broader implications of the Trump administration's vague language and policies regarding immigration.
Specifically, Trump has tried before to dismantle the asylum pathway, and more recently suggested ending the widespread use of Temporary Protected Status (TPS), a program signed into law by President George H.W. Bush. TPS provides legal residency to individuals already in the United States who cannot safely or immediately return to their home countries.
This shift has fueled speculation that the proposed deportation efforts could extend beyond violent offenders, potentially affecting a much larger population of immigrants.
Currently, approximately 864,000 immigrants hold legal residency through the TPS program, with a significant number coming from Venezuela, and as of October 2023, there were over 2 million pending asylum cases in the United States.
Hoping to be recognized
The Rodriguez Espinoza family holds onto hope that their contributions to society will be recognized.
“We don’t have a criminal record. We have spent two years here trying to do things right, trying to work within the norms of the law. We got our license. We have work permits. We are paying taxes,” Rodriguez said. “Many people come with bad intentions, but there are more people like us, who come to work, to establish a better future.”
But he fears people often paint immigrants with a broad brush. This fear hit close to home during a New Year's Eve party, just minutes after midnight, when a troubling altercation with a neighbor escalated into violence.
Espinoza showed CPR News a video of an incident that began as a parking dispute but quickly spiraled out of control when the neighbor, who is Mexican-American, accused the family of being “illegal immigrants” intent on “taking over the country.”
It reflects a broader sentiment that has been amplified by supporters of the incoming Trump administration. Recent evidence indicates that an increasing number of Latinos view immigration from Latin America as detrimental to their well-being in the U.S., leading some to actively distance themselves from recent immigrants.
In the nine-second video, a group frantically scuffles around two people on the parking lot pavement. A woman can be heard screaming, “Let go of her!” as Rodriguez holds a man back, yelling, “Wait, wait!”
The neighbor allegedly grabbed Karelim and pulled her hair. That prompted Karelim’s 13-year-old sister and 14-year-old cousin to step in and try to stop the fight. A police report corroborates these details of the family's account.
According to the family, the altercation ended when the neighbor’s husband emerged from his apartment pointing a shotgun. Fearing for their lives, the Venezuelan family fled.
“We didn’t understand what he was saying. He just pointed at us, and we had to run and take refuge a block away and called the police,” Rodriguez said. Both the neighbor, and her husband were arrested. Police reports indicate that the district attorney’s office declined charges on the male suspect.
As for Espinoza’s family: She placed a stack of folders on the table with medical records documenting the aftermath of the scuffle: bruises, a sprain, and other small injuries. While the physical injuries might seem minor, one critical detail looms large.
“We don’t have Medicare,” the mother explained, referring to government health insurance. “We only have a discount card. I told them that at the hospital, and they said to wait for the bill to arrive in my email.”
No returning to Venezuela, they say
The fight left the Rodriguez Espinoza family shaken. They no longer feel safe in their neighborhood and are looking to move. It feels like starting over again — something they hoped they wouldn’t have to endure again after leaving Venezuela.
"Staying here? No, that would terrify me. They know where we live,” Rodriguez said.
“Moving away from here is like repeating everything again. It’s unfair,” Espinoza said, holding back tears. “If we had a good life in our [home] country, or at least were treated with dignity, we would not have left Venezuela. Because Venezuela is abundant. It is rich [in natural resources].
Espinoza remembers the old Venezuela fondly, a prosperous nation that people used to migrate into, not out of.
“There were a lot of foreigners at that time," said Espinoza, describing French bakeries and Chinese restaurants. “Then everything started to fall in 2010 …”
“The gasoline …” Rodriguez interrupted. “The price of gasoline dropped, and that started to topple everything."
Decades of government mismanagement had left Venezuela vulnerable to price fluctuations. During the 2010s, the global price of a barrel of oil went from over $100 to below $30. As oil prices plummeted, so did wages.
“The salary was not dignified,” Espinoza said. “It was not enough to buy the basic necessities."
Then, in the middle of the crisis, came the sanctions. The Trump administration, in an attempt to weaken Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro's regime, imposed strict sanctions on Venezuela, — the first to broadly target the country’s economy.
Supporters of the sanctions argue that these sanctions alone are not responsible for worsening the economic crisis. Critics contend the sanctions made the crisis worse and hindered economic recovery. In 2021, the U.S. Government Accountability Office concluded that sanctions likely accelerated Venezuela’s economic decline.
Regardless, in 2017, after the first series of sanctions had been imposed, Venezuela’s economy degraded from a dire situation into a full-on humanitarian crisis.
“In 2017, Venezuela fell down completely. With this I want to say that a lot of children and people died of hunger. We did not have food,” Kareyls said.
Maduro’s regime grew more oppressive. More than 7 million people have fled the country, with an estimated 700,000 making their way to the United States. Espinoza's family is one of many who have endured this journey.
Hard times ahead
“Our lawyer told us hard times are ahead for immigrants like us … Let’s not say undocumented — let’s say we don’t yet have approval to be here indefinitely,” Espinoza said carefully as Rodriguez put his arm over her reassuringly.
In preparation for Biden’s departure, the Department of Homeland Security announced an extension of Temporary Protected Status for about 600,000 Venezuelans. This would give them protections from being deported and the ability to live and work in the United States through at least Oct. 2, 2026.
Eligibility for TPS requires Venezuelan nationals to have resided continuously in the United States since July 31, 2023, or earlier. Those arriving after that date or without following a lawful process are ineligible and may face enforcement actions.
Espinoza's family does not have TPS. Instead, they are pursuing the asylum pathway, which offers distinct legal advantages. If they’re approved, they could have a path to a green card and a more permanent legal status.
“We’re still in the process of seeking asylum, waiting for the court to call us, but we don’t even have a date yet.”
Espinoza's family is far from alone
As of October 2024, Colorado’s immigration courts faced a backlog of 78,000 cases, with each judge handling an average of over 7,000 cases.
For families like Espinoza, Rodriguez and their three children, the delays may be a mixed blessing, buying time while they await their hearing.
Immigration experts highlight that asylum seekers who presented themselves to Border Patrol are already technically in deportation proceedings as part of their asylum application.
“You are already in deportation proceedings. And so to get arrested again would just mean that you were going to be subjected to the same process that you're already in. So it would be redundant,” said Dara Lind, a Senior Fellow at the Immigration Council, in an interview.
This means that while the deportation and asylum process could be made faster by hiring more immigration judges and accelerating court dates, experts believe that it can't be made faster just by apprehending more people.
Moving on again
Outside of their apartment, Espinoza and Rodriguez look over the parking lot, pointing at the location where the altercation happened on New Year’s. Living in the United States brings a mix of emotions for Espinoza and her family. On one hand, they’ve found safety and new opportunities; on the other, they often feel their presence is misunderstood or unwelcome.
“We are from Venezuela. If it weren’t for the violence and the dictatorship, we wouldn’t be facing these comments about invading this country — that’s not what we’re doing,” Espinoza said.
While they place most of the blame on Venezuela’s dictatorship, the family is also acutely aware of the U.S.'s role in their country’s turmoil.
“We do feel overwhelmed sometimes because, in a small way, what happened to Venezuela is partly the fault of the United States,” Espinoza admitted. “Now that we’re here, it’s not like we’re trying to collect on what’s owed. But there’s this emptiness, a hope that at least being here means something after the harm caused back in Venezuela.”
Despite the challenges, the Rodriguez Espinoza family has embraced life in Denver, finding joy in small moments.
“We’re happy here,” Rodriguez shared. “We’ve gone to the zoo, visited the museum with passes we were given, and enjoyed it all. We love making soup over an open flame at the park or preparing the traditional foods from Venezuela.”
As the political climate grows more uncertain, families like theirs remain in limbo, hopeful that their efforts to integrate and contribute won’t be overshadowed by fear or misunderstanding.
For now, families like Espinoza's are in limbo, navigating a system where legal clarity and stability often feel like distant goals.
