Part 4: What Happens Now?
The following interview took place over email between June 21 and June 28, 2026. I sent him the questions on the 21st. Dy drafted his thoughts in a notebook while waiting for his laptop to arrive via a friend traveling to Vietnam. He sent the interview back after he was able to type his responses.
Thi: Thank you for staying in touch with me, Dy. You’ve been through so much and there’s still much more to get through. I’ve met your children, your wife, heard how they talk about you, read your letters to them, and witnessed the beautiful family and community you’ve built and nourished in Atlanta. And even though the U.S. government has cruelly separated you from your family, it has not changed your love for them, your generous spirit, or your faith. I want to wish you a happy Father’s Day. You’re one of the best dads I know.
Dy Nguyen: Hi chị Thi. First, I’m really grateful that we’re able to do this interview together. Thank you so much for walking alongside our family since 2017. You’ve been more than a journalist—you’ve been a friend who has cared for us, listened to our story, and stood with us through some of the hardest years of our lives. We truly appreciate that.
How many days has it been since you arrived in Vietnam, and where are you now?
Dy: It’s been about three weeks since I first arrived in Vietnam. Right now, I’m staying at my aunt’s house in District 12, Ho Chi Minh City, as I begin rebuilding my life here.
Would you mind describing what the deportation process was like? I don’t feel good asking you to relive it. But I think it’s important for people to know what our immigration system does.
Dy: Sure. It’s difficult to relive, but I think it’s important for people to understand what this process is really like.
My deportation journey began when I was transferred out of Stewart ICE Detention Center. It was Thursday, May 28. I was taken to intake, where they began processing me for transfer to Louisiana. The process lasted all night because they were processing around 40 to 50 people who were being transferred.
The next day, we were taken to a military airport and flown to Louisiana. From there, we were placed on a bus for another three-hour ride to an ICE detention facility in Mississippi, where we stayed for three days.
On June 1, we were transported back to the airport facility in Louisiana and spent another night there. Then, on June 2, we were loaded onto a deportation flight bound for Vietnam.
The journey included five flight segments: Louisiana to Alaska, Alaska to Guam, Guam to Cambodia, Cambodia to Laos, and finally Laos to Vietnam. The total travel time was about 35 hours.
Throughout the entire trip, we were shackled at both our hands and feet. One of the hardest parts was that many of us avoided eating or drinking because we knew we wouldn’t be uncuffed to use the restroom. The transport officers would not remove our restraints—not even to use the bathroom. Imagine trying to take care of basic human needs while your hands and feet are chained together. It was humiliating and incredibly difficult.
Did anyone meet you or assist you when you landed in Vietnam?
Dy: When I landed at Nội Bài International Airport in northern Vietnam, Vietnamese immigration officials were already there waiting for us. They took us to their local office, where we went through interviews and completed the necessary paperwork.
After that, along with 32 other deportees who were returning to southern Vietnam, I was placed on a bus for another 30-hour journey to the immigration office in the south.
When we finally arrived, I was reunited with my aunt and a family friend, who came to sponsor me and bring me home. It was the first time I saw a familiar face after everything I had gone through.
The Ba Lô Project was also there to welcome us. They provided essential items, including a cell phone, some cash, a change of clothes, and other basic necessities. After spending months in detention and arriving in a country where I had to start over from scratch, those simple gifts meant more than words can express.
How has it been adjusting to the changes?
Dy: I thank God every day for His provision through the loving hearts and caring hands of the faith community. Their kindness has made this transition and readjustment much easier than it otherwise would have been.
There are still challenges that I face every day, but like I mentioned before, every step of the way I continue to see God’s faithful hand guiding and providing for me. I’m still adjusting to this new chapter of life, but I’m taking it one day at a time and trusting Him through the process.
There’s an 11-hour difference between Vietnam and Atlanta, right? You’re on opposite schedules. Your day is their night and vice versa. How are you staying connected to Tammy and the kids?
Dy: Yes, that’s right. There’s an 11-hour time difference between Vietnam and Atlanta, so staying connected takes some planning.
Right now, since it’s summer break and the kids are usually home in the morning, I’ve set aside a regular time each day to call my wife and the kids. I usually call between 9:00 and 10:00 p.m. my time, which is 10:00 to 11:00 a.m. in Atlanta. Even though we’re separated by thousands of miles, we’re doing our best to stay involved in each other’s daily lives. Those conversations mean everything to me.
What happens now?
Dy: Right now, my focus isn’t on looking back at the past but on looking forward to the future—being reunited with my wife and our children.
We’re currently working on obtaining the kids’ passports and completing all the necessary paperwork here in Vietnam. Once everything is approved, the plan is for my wife and children to relocate here so we can finally be together again as a family.
By God’s grace, both my wife and I are still able to continue working remotely, which has been an incredible blessing. While this isn’t the future we originally envisioned, we believe God is already writing a new chapter for our family. We’ll continue building our life together here in our homeland, trusting Him to lead us every step of the way.
***
There are more photos that Dy shared with me. They are of Dy smiling and standing or sitting with different friends who have come to see him or that he met on the long journey from north to south. Some are other deportees. Others are couples, some with babies. These are absolutely normal photos of normal people doing normal things, like enjoying a meal together in a restaurant. The ordinariness of the photos contrasts starkly with the severity of how Dy has been treated by the U.S. government. Why has a man whose youthful mistakes only ever warranted a few years of imprisonment a long time ago, who served his time and earnestly made himself a better man, been deported and separated from the family he loved and provided for? To what end was that separation enforced with barbed wire, metal gates, prison guards, prison protocols, plexiglass windows that prevent visitors from touching, and in-flight shackles on hands and feet? Who has been made safer by Dy’s detention and deportation? Why is this treatment of people not only allowed, but increasing, with tens of billions of taxpayer dollars fueling the rapid growth of the apparatus that carries it out?
Thi Bui is a writer, artist, and activist. Best known for her graphic memoir, The Best We Could Do, she has also illustrated award-winning children’s books, published short nonfiction comics, and taught in high schools and universities. The Best We Could Do received an American Book Award and was an NEA Big Reads book, a Common Book for many colleges and universities, an all-city read by Seattle and San Francisco public libraries, and a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle and the Eisner awards. Bui is the illustrator of in/Vulnerable, a comics series collaboration between Reveal News at the Center for Investigative Reporting and The Nib, which won a Robert F. Kennedy Journalism award for editorial cartooning. Bui is currently working on a nonfiction hybrid book of prose, illustration, and comics, about immigrant detention and deportation, titled NOWHERELAND. Pieces of this project can be found on her Substack, Before You Die, Dammit. She lives in New Orleans. (Author photo by Marion Hill).
