Every night, for months, as they stayed near their home in Watts, south of Los Angeles, Joseph, seven years old — who bears his father’s name — looked at his mom, Alma Ramírez, and asked him a question:“Why did you take my dad?”His father, José Padilla, 41, was arrested on January 27, 2026 by the Immigration and Customs Control Service (ICE) while working car washing in Los Angeles. The father of four children, who has lived in the United States for more than 20 years, was one of more than 1,400 people detained in the Los Angeles area that January, according to the Deportation Data Project, and one of at least 373 carwashers detained between June 2025 and January 2026, according to data collected by the CLEAN Center for Carwashers Workers.Like many other families who have lost their home’s livelihoods due to continuous immigration riots across Southern California, Ramírez and his children, Alex, 17, José Jr., 7, and Joaquín, 2, have faced severe economic difficulties, in addition to the emotional and mental health impact of family separation.“The kids were affected more because they had their dad every day. Although he came home tired of working under the burning sun, he sat down to play with them,” said the mother of three children, sitting in her room. “He took care of us. He paid our bills (service bills), helped me with the housework and bathed the children. He was a father who was present. That’s what I like the most about him.”According to a 2025 report by American Families United, in which people affected by immigration raids were surveyed, 97% emotional difficulties and 78% economic difficulties after a family member was arrested.“Now that he’s not here, we really feel his absence and how much he helped us, not only with bills and expenses, but also simply being here for the kids, for me and for my parents,” said the 31-year-old woman and student in the health sector. “It was hard for us to be without him. It was our support. He was our person. Honestly, he was everyone’s person.”As for the impact on children, the psychological damage caused by migration control measures is not only acute, but also “chronic, multifaceted and with developmental repercussions,” according to a report published in Psychiatric News. For children from families with mixed migratory status, these disorders and absences can lead to lasting symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), anxiety and depression.According to the UCR School of Medicine report, workplace raids and arrests during federal migration control operations are provoking what they describe as a “public health emergency” for millions of children like Joaquin and his brothers. The Dr. Lisa Fortuna, professor and director of the department of psychiatry and neuroscience at the UCR Faculty of Medicine and lead psychiatrist in charge of the report, noted that this kind of separation from a parent or caregiver “fundamentally reconfigure a child’s development and mental health.”Children learn by watching their parents. When that stability is altered, it affects the way they relate to others and see the world,” said the co-author. Kevin Gutiérrez, in a statement published on his website on the findings of the study. “Without safe and welcoming environments, we limit their emotional, social and cognitive potential.”It has been shown that these fears and the eventual detention of a loved one provoke school absence, academic disinterest and increased emotional stress, according to the report of the UCR Faculty of Medicine.In the case of Ramírez, two of his sons, José and Alex — who has autism — showed some disinterest for the school after his father’s arrest. Alex, Joseph’s eldest son, depended on his father, who helped him with everything, from bathing and doing the task to attending school meetings.“The reason José decided to work in a car washing machine was for the kids, especially Alex, as he requires special care,” Ramírez said as he waited for the school bus to leave Alex home. “I wanted to make sure I could be available to them all at any time.”In June of this year, Alex and her brothers had been without seeing their father for five months, and during that time, the two older sons began receiving therapy.“We told the school what had happened, and now both have been assigned a therapist to help them process and understand their feelings, and are learning different ways to handle those intense emotions,” she said. “My seven-year-old son (Joseph) tries to become the brave one, but I see that he strangers his dad. In addition to therapy, he has received additional support at school every time they notice he can’t concentrate as he used to.”In a letter addressed to the immigration judge in support of his father, Alex wrote how strange he was to his father and how much he wanted to see him in “real life,” not by phone or tablet.For Joseph, his seven-year-old brother Joaquin, two-year-old, and his 17-year-old brother Alex, his father Joseph was a constant figure of security and stability. They played together every afternoon after finishing the task, he read them and, along with Ramírez, they used to go out to do family activities.At night, part of the routine of Joseph’s sons consisted of crawling into his father’s arms as he wrapped the little ones until they fell asleep.“We had our routines, every morning and every night, and that’s all over,” Ramírez said.According to Ramírez, the stability of the family collapsed when they arrested José.“From day to day, everything fell on me,” she said, holding her two-year-old son in her arms. “And I don’t mind taking charge, but you have to understand that we were such a good team; we really helped each other. When I suffered postpartum depression, he was patient; he took care of everything and helped me be myself again.”Ramírez and her partner, whom she jokingly calls her “husband-boyfriend” — a word that combines “husband” and “boyfriend” — have been together since 2014 and form a family with mixed migrant status. He met Joseph when he was a single father with two children and worked in his father’s car washing business.Like any parent, their goal in life is to give their children a good and stable life.On the day they arrested José, he and Ramírez continued their daily routine: they helped prepare the children for school; one bathed them and dressed them while the other prepared breakfast.Then, Ramírez took his son and his nephew to school, while José stayed at home with the younger and did a slight cleaning before preparing for work.The only difference that morning was the time at which Joseph went out for work. According to Ramírez, Joseph used to leave home at 9 a.m. But that day he went earlier than usual to throw gasoline, something he didn’t do, but he had forgotten to fill the tank the day before.“He rushed out the door when I told him, ‘No, you have to eat,’ and I gave him two burrits and a coffee, and he left,” she said, trying to contain tears as she remembered the details of that morning.Ramírez was in his mother’s kitchen when he received the call. “The man on the other side of the line asked me if I knew ‘Morro’, which is the nickname of Joseph, and when I said yes, he said, ‘ICE just stopped him.’”“I collapsed; we were all devastated. we couldn’t believe it.” Ramírez recalls having had to pass the phone to his mom and sister because he couldn’t contain the tears.As a family, they had been aware of the frequent ICE raids in their neighborhoods, but only talked about security measures, such as sharing their locations with each other.She said they had never talked about what they would do if Joseph was really arrested.“We just thought, you know, it’t happen to us if we were careful. Until it happened,” he said. “Looking back, I wish we had worked out some kind of plan, but even so I don’t think anything prepares you for the huge feeling of loss that feels in a home when your husband is taken away.”José was transferred from downtown Los Angeles to the Adelanto Detention Center and, subsequently, to the California City Detention Center, in Kern County.The trip by car from Watts to the detention center is a long three-hour trip, so, with an intense workload, a family to serve and an unreliable car for such a trip, Ramírez and his family communicated mainly with José through video calls every two nights.The Arizona State University Child Equity Project found that detention and separation of children and their parents, even for a short period, can cause toxic stress, with profound and negative effects on the psychological well-being and healthy development of young children, such as emotional and behavioral problems.“Psychological science is clear: detention, deportation, family separation, and the constant threat of such actions generate chronic stress that increases anxiety, depression, trauma-related symptoms, and long-term health risks,” said the APA’s executive director, Dr. Watson. Arthur Evans, Jr., in a report by the American Psychological Association. “These injuries are especially serious for children, whose emotional development depends on stable and secure caring relationships.”One Friday afternoon in June, Ramírez placed family photos on his couch.In his hands he had a Valentine’s Gift he had made especially for Joseph, before he was stopped.“We couldn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day as we wanted, but it’s okay, this will be waiting for you when you leave,” he said, feeling optimistic about his return.“Look, that’s him!” he said, pointing to Joseph, who in the photo was being embraced by his seven-year-old son; both lightened huge smiles on their faces.Ramírez said that each child has been affected differently, and that the changes vary from one child to another.“He’s still small, so it’s hard for him to understand why he can’t see his dad,” Ramírez said. “He was the one who was used to sleeping in his dad’s arms, so every night he goes around to see the empty space next to me and says, ‘I need my dad.’”For months, this three-child mother did everything she could to get her children and their studies ahead. At the time of Joseph’s arrest, she was a housewife and student, and was preparing for an exam to obtain certification as a phlebotomist.Unfortunately, he had to return to the exam several times because, after losing the support of his partner, all his time was occupied by other things.“It has been very difficult. I spend all my time crying; some days are harder than others,” he said. “Andrea, from the CLEAN Car Washing Workers Center, was the one who told me that I should consider going to therapy because it would do me well. Apart from my family, she has helped me a lot because she allows me to let go when I need it.”Ramírez and his children live with their parents and pay rent, but he said that, although his housing situation is better than that of most, paying the bills and handling everything while trying to keep his partner’s mood has been difficult.She explained that she and José had to find ways to balance the financial and emotional burdens.“José got a job in the kitchen of the detention center because he said he didn’t want to drown in depression. He wants time to pass, and says the money he earns can be used to buy soups and bottles because he didn’t want me to worry about depositing money on his account,” she said, with a slight smile on her face. It was another reminder of why he loved him and how much he continues to strive to take care of them, even while in detention.According to a 2020 study in Pima County, Arizona, a detention on migration grounds can cost households an average of more than $24,000. In addition to the loss of income, this amount includes legal expenses they have to pay from their own pockets, the value of the belongings seized during detention that were not recovered, and other expenses related to the maintenance of a family member while he is facing the migratory judicial system.“I have resorted to local resources to get food, supplies and other help that allows us to move forward, because at this time we don’t know how long it will go until they release it. Whether they release him so he can return with us or deport him,” Ramírez said.He said his morning began before 5 a.m. by m. He usually takes his mom to work early in the morning, leaving her about an hour for herself before having to prepare the kids for school, time he spends trying to study.“It has cost me a lot to manage my time and find a new pace,” he said. “I have to study very late at night or very early in the morning, because I have to do it when the kids are asleep, so I hardly rest.”Ramírez has not been able to pass his exam, but hopes to return soon, once he has adapted to his new routine. As for Joseph, she has not lost hope, although she is worried about him because of the news she has seen about the conditions in the detention centers.“I have a lot of faith and hope that they will release him,” Ramírez said in June. “I don’t see the time that the day will come when my children will have their father back, that he will see all his children again.”*** byOn August 4, 2026, six months after his arrest, Ramírez and his sons received the news they had been waiting for. Joseph was released from the detention center and his sons received him at the Union Station in Los Angeles. The Immigrant Defenders Law Center, which helped José and his family in his case, captured that emotional reunion.“Who is that, daddy?” says Ramírez to his seven-year-old son when he folds the corner; no words come out, only smiles and tears of joy and relief.Although José has recovered his freedom, he continues to fight for his case and hopes to be able to stay in the country where he has built a life with his family.Ramírez shared that, to help with the lawyers’ fees, they have left their GoFundMe account open. For now, Ramírez and his children are delighted to be all again in Jose’s arms, enjoying the warm embrace they longed for six months.This article was produced with the collaboration of Health Reports in Ethnic Media “Healing California” of USC Annenberg Center for Health Journalism and the California Local News Fellowship program of the University of Berkeley.Psychological ImpactInterrupted Routines“I need my dad.”A mother tries to move forward.