Thread by @JinATX

This is Carlos Torres. His family brought him from Mexico to Texas when he was a baby. He volunteered to serve in the U.S. Army in 1972 and four years later was honorably discharged. But he never finished his citizenship process and in 1994 was arrested on marijuana charges.

He was deported to Mexico and since 2010 has been living in Reynosa, a border city plagued by drug violence. He scraped by as a security guard for a maquiladora, earning less than $1 an hour and lived in a small concrete house in one of Reynosa's poorest neighborhoods.

I got a chance to meet Carlos in 2016. He was incredibly gracious with me and photographer @gonzorudy. He was funny and witty and thoughtful. He remained a patriot. His sparse bedroom was covered with memories from Fort Bragg and the Army. specials.mystatesman.com/deported-veter…

Reynosa never felt like home. "A lot of people look at me funny when I speak Spanish because I mispronounce some words,” he told me. "I look American. I act American. I dress American. I am an American.” Even in his 60s, he called his mom every morning.

When he told me this, it just about broke my heart: "I might just turn myself in when I’m tired of the hustle and the hardships down here. I might just go to some federal prison somewhere, where I can have a job, 3 hots and a cot, and all the friends you want. I’ve been there.”

But over the last year things were looking up for Carlos: he got a better-paying job, was applying for VA pension and disability benefits and was active in building a deported veteran support house in Tamaulipas. And he kept alive his dream of 1 day being allowed to return home.

On Saturday evening, he sent a text to friends and family (I was on what had become a lengthy group of Carlos' text recipients): “Going to the Company Christmas Party! Haven’t been to one of these in 35 years minimum!”

A few hours later, Carlos passed away suddenly at the party. The family thinks it was a heart attack.

Today, Carlos is finally coming home.

He will be buried tomorrow at the Rio Grande Valley State Veterans Cemetery.

“It’s not how we wanted, but he’ll be home," said his sister Norma Torres Treviño. “He didn’t suffer and he wasn’t alone.”

statesman.com/news/20181212/…

Carlos is one of 100s of deported veterans. Some have committed serious crimes like assault and rape. But many were busted on nonviolent drug charges or drunk driving. Many committed crimes while suffering from mental health and substance abuse problems related to their service.

Legislation that would give deported veterans an avenue to citizenship and make it harder to deport them in the first place haven't gotten much traction in Congress. For many, their return comes only after death.

R.I.P Sgt. Torres. Welcome home.