Young Honduran migrants rest on the Mexican side of the Rio Grande. In the distance, U.S. Border Patrol lights illuminate Zacate Creek in Texas. (Don Bartletti / Los Angeles Times)
At Journey’s End, a Dark River, Perhaps a New Life
Two migrants test the Rio Grande’s current on the Nuevo Laredo, Mexico, side. When Enrique, who couldn’t swim, set out to cross with his smuggler, he was afraid. Two nights before, a boy he knew had drowned in the rain-swollen river. (Don Bartletti / Los Angeles Times)
Central Americans emerge from the Rio Grande in Texas after wading across. In the plastic bags are dry clothes. Before Enrique entered the water, he tore up a scrap of paper with his mother’s phone number on it and scattered it on the bank. This time, he had memorized the number. (Don Bartletti / Los Angeles Times)
Senior Border Patrol Agent Alexander D. Hernandez uses a night-vision monocular to scan a fence line near Laredo, Texas. (Don Bartletti / Los Angeles Times)
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Enrique and his mother, Lourdes, embrace outside her mobile home in North Carolina. For weeks, perhaps months, reunited children and mothers cling to romanticized notions about how they should feel toward each other. Then reality intrudes. (Don Bartletti / Los Angeles Times)
Lourdes breaks down as she talks about her life and the recent arrival of her son. Her daughter Diana, 9, who was born in the United States, offers comfort. (Don Bartletti / Los Angeles Times)
After arriving in North Carolina, Enrique found a job as a painter. Among the tensions between him and Lourdes: She wanted him to learn a profession; he sought work right away. (Don Bartletti / Los Angeles Times)
Enrique’s girlfriend, Maria Isabel Caria Duron, at her aunt’s general store and house in Tegucigalpa, Honduras. (Don Bartletti / Los Angeles Times)
