Good evening, everybody. Would you all please mind coming over to the area that's roughly in the line
between this table and Murth, so we're all closer together. And I think it would be helpful if you're
not congregating down there by the sidewalk, but kind of stay up close and close together.
you could come a little bit closer. The nice grassy areas will be really soft on your feet. So please
come on over. So good evening everybody and welcome.
I want to welcome all of you who have joined us tonight. You have taken the time to be here rather than
doing a myriad of other things that you might want to be doing on a Friday night. And I and the ISD
Taney's are grateful for your presence. The sun has just set and darkness is about to descend on us.
This is a very appropriate time for a ritual for the ISD Taney's. The ISD Taney's in
the Miami Correctional Facility in the entire state of Indiana, in the entire country, and even those
immigrants who have been shipped like cattle to other countries. Before we begin, it's probably a good
idea to remind us that this is a peaceful, reverent, nonviolent vigil. We believe in a collective approach
to safety. Let us all be helpful and kind to one another.
Respect our differences. Let's be aware of our surroundings. And if there's any issues, there are a
few folks in Orange West that can help you out. This is a country of immigrants. Immigrants have come
here guided by light and hope to escape persecution, to make a better life for themselves, and to provide
for a safe and secure future for the children.
Now many live in fear and fear of ice making arbitrary arrests. For many of our immigrant sisters and
brothers, darkness has descended on them. They have been arrested. They have had their loved ones arrested.
Their families have been torn apart. Their livelihood is in danger if not destroyed. So we gather here
to pray for all the victims of ice, to mourn with all the families,
who had in our having their lives and their livelihoods appended, and to express our strong and unwavering
support for all our sisters and brothers whose lives have been impacted by ICE. We will start with a
simple song. The good folks from Singing Resistance will teach us a simple song, and all of us can join
in. I cannot carry a tune, but even I will join in.
That's because we all carry it together. So nobody has to carry it. This is a song called We Belong
to Each Other by Annie Schlafer. So I'll sing a phrase and then you repeat. Everyone, oh everyone, oh
everyone of these people are ours. Your turn. Everyone, oh everyone, oh everyone of these people are
ours. My turn.
Just like we are theirs. Just like we are theirs. And we belong to them. And they belong to us. There you go.
are ours. Everyone, oh everyone, oh everyone of these people are ours. Just like we are theirs. Just
like we are theirs. And we belong
And we belong to them. And they belong to us. I'm going to sing the whole thing. And if you want to
listen the first time to the whole thing, we've got the words up here too. And then we're going to split
into two groups and do this in a round. And it's not just because it sounds cool and it's fun to do,
but it creates these beautiful harmonies so that we sing these words and we really make these words real.
and we create beautiful harmony together. So this song is a metaphor for everything that we're doing
here. So here's how the whole thing goes. Everyone, oh everyone, oh everyone, oh these people are ours
just like we are theirs.
Just like we are theirs. And we belong to them and they belong to us. Let's see if we can do it once.
I'm going to put this mic down because it's about all of us together. So let's just listen to us together. Ready?
Stand in solidarity with our immigrant sisters and brothers. It's appropriate to keep in mind what they
might feel like to have to flee their country, to lose their home, to lose their country. And Lenzen's
going to read a poem about loss of country for us.
The name of this poem is I Was in a Hurry by Junya Mikhail. Yesterday I lost a country. I was in a hurry
and didn't notice when it fell from me like a broken branch from a forgetful tree. Please, if anyone
passes by and stumbles across it, perhaps in a suitcase open to the sky,
or engraved on a rock like a gaping wound, or wrapped in the blankets of immigrants, or canceled like
a losing lottery ticket, or helplessly forgotten in purgatory, or rushing forward without a goal like
the questions of children, or rising with the smoke of war, or rolling in a helmet on the sand,
or stolen in Alibaba's jar, or disguised in the uniform of a policeman who stirred up the prisoners
and then fled, or squatting in the mind of a woman who tries to smile, or scattered like the dreams
of new immigrants in America. If anyone stumbles across it, return it to me, please. Please return it, sir.
Please return it, madam. It is my country. I was in a hurry when I lost it yesterday. Thanks, Pete.
Please join us in the next song, which you can find on your song sheet that was handed out. The song
comes from my personal faith tradition.
There's a word that shows up that might not be part of your faith tradition called the Christ. So whenever
you see the word the Christ, please feel free to replace the word love with that word. I would not want
anybody to feel alienated a part of it or marginalized because we come from different faith traditions.
And Pastor Adrian will lead us off into the song. I've heard her before in church.
she can carry it to and it leaves us off pretty well. You should be afraid about asking a soprano to
lead music. Let us sing together. Build a longer table, not a higher wall. Feeding the soup of worth,
making room for all. We sing together.
Christ breaks walls to pieces, walls divisions end. Build a safer refuge, not a larger jail. Where the
weak find shelter, mercy will not fail.
justice is denied Christ will
Thank you. Vicki Balansky will read a litany that is placed.
we bring before you all who work for the fullness of justice, all who long for the widening of welcome,
to which your gospel calls us. We pray. Open hearts, open arms, open doors in welcome. Displaced God,
born in flight to parents anxious and weary, born anew in those who flee oppression,
leaving home and loved ones behind, and staking their lives on the hope of abundant life. We pray. Open
hearts, open arms, open doors and welcome. Journeying God, turned away over and over again by our world's
collective fear of the stranger, we pray. Open hearts, open arms, open doors and welcome. Uprooted God,
suspended in the endless uncertainty that is the daily life of the migrant, we pray. Open hearts,
open arms, open doors and welcome. Waiting, God, waiting today with all who suffer separation from home
and the familiar, waiting for safe return, waiting for war's end, waiting for justice to be restored,
we pray. Open hearts, open arms,
Open doors and welcome. God of all people, stir us to holy anger over the wounds of our world. Move
us to action for justice until the fullness of welcome is fulfilled in our midst. And the problems that
cause migration, the poverty, the fear, and the suffering, are confronted by all people of goodwill
and transformed by the power of compassion. Amen.
Two men have died this year in ICE detention at the Miami Correctional Facility. You, Loreen, will now
hear the story of one of those men who died. Lorth Sim, a 59-year-old Cambodian national,
who died on February 16th of this year. Officials attributed his death primarily to cardiovascular disease
and diabetes. Born in 1966, Lorath was nine years old when the murderous Khmer Rouge took power in Cambodia.
He fled to the United States and arrived as a refugee in 1983.
He was granted permanent residency status in 1986, which he later lost for minor criminal convictions.
He was arrested in Boston in December, 2025 and shipped 900 miles to the Miami Correctional Facility
right here in Bunker Hill, Indiana. He died in that facility on February the 16th.
2026. We light one candle for the world since
You will not hear the story of the second man who died in the Miami ICE detention facility. Hello, everyone.
Thanks for being here tonight. I want to share a brief story about Tuan Van Gough. He was a 55-year-old
Vietnamese man who died this spring on April 1
He was found unresponsive in his cell. He came to this country in 1990 as a 29-year-old person. He came
through a visa program established for Vietnamese children of American fathers. After arriving here,
he did serve some time in prison for a misdemeanor drug charge in a DUI.
ICE claimed that Boo had committed other crimes, but these crimes were contested. He was detained in
Philadelphia during a routine immigration check-in last August. After his detention, his wife suffered
a stroke. Boo continued to suffer at the Miami Correctional Facility from asthma and hypertension until
He was found out this spring.
Let us offer prayer for the men and women who have died in ice custody. Blessed are you who are the
keeper of the book of life. Today we remember the two men who have died in ice custody in the Miami
Correctional Facility, Laura Sim and Tuan Van Bui. Each one of you has a candle. I'm going to bring
one light to one or two people on my right.
and perhaps he can pass the candle through the rest of the crowd to bring some light to this darkness.
The news of their death has filled us with grief. We know that you almost die, but these deaths especially
fill us with sadness and grief. We remember in our prayers our friends and families who surely are lost
in sorrow at this time. May you best remember Lord Sam and Tuan Van Bui by being grateful for life today
and by loving our neighbor
our neighbors, with all our hearts, with all our strengths, and all our minds. Eternal rest to Lorsam
and Tanman Bui, and divine consolation to the families. While the lights are going through, Pastor Adrian
will give us a reflection on the life that these guys
the detainees are facing and how it might relate to that. My spouse is a public speaking teacher and
he tells me that early on in his speech you're supposed to like give your credentials right like why
should anyone listen to me and
Ever since Gerhard asked me to do this, I have been convincing myself that I have none. I know all the
reasons why I am busy or afraid, why I seem to find myself standing on the fringes of people and groups
that are doing this good work. But you asked me.
So then I thought about, when I am an expert at, I thought, you know what, I will bring a Bible study,
I will tell you about all the things that the Bible has to say about immigration, or some piece of it.
You know, like Moses, who got in an altercation trying to defend a fellow Israelite, accidentally killed
an Egyptian and had to flee, or Jesus, who with his family and his infancy had to flee their home for
Egypt because a murderous tyrant was after them.
And of course, the Bible by sheer volume says more about welcoming the stranger or caring for the poor
and marginalized than just about anything else. But I realized that all of you who are here know that,
that you're angry and that you want things to be different. Those are my credentials.
I'm angry and I want things to be different. In the church today, we celebrate, I mean on this day,
August 28th, it is the feast of Saint Augustine. Saint Augustine was a fourth century speech teacher
who was a reluctant convert to Christianity but became one of the fathers of Western theology and all
of us have to contend with him.
Here are these great big tomes I'm sure someone has read. I have not. But one of the things that he
says that resonates deeply with me is that hope has two beautiful daughters, anger at the way things
are, and courage that they don't remain as they are. And I know a lot of people are angry. They come
to me in my office and say, I'm really angry and I don't think I should be. I don't think that's what
a good person does.
I've never found it particularly helpful to try to become un-angry. Feelings come and feelings go. But
what we can do is pay attention to our anger. We are angry because our neighbors are being taken away
from us. Our anger is telling us something important. But anger is not all there is. There is this hope
that things will be different.
And that gives us the courage to act. It gives us the courage to stand in vigil, to protest,
to write letters, to call people to show up in their offices. It gives us the courage to do this very
basic act, which is to pay attention, to look and not to look away. Because our neighbors are being
taken from us and they're being put behind walls where we can no longer see them.
They're being taken to courtrooms where we, most of us, cannot go, put on planes where we cannot follow
them, and taken to countries our State Department says we should not visit because it is not safe. Tyranny
thrives on ignorance. Tyranny is spread by division. Tyranny feeds on the marginalized.
And we can do this courageous act of paying attention, of bearing witness to what is happening, and
doing the things that make what is happening no longer this way. And we do it collectively, because
when we are collectively angry, when we are collectively courageous, then we have hope that things will
not remain this way. So let us tonight remember those
who have been taken from us. Remember those who have died and let us pray for the courage that things
will not remain this way any longer. Thank you. In my book, those words are credential
The next speaker is Miguel Avila. Miguel will tell us about his own personal experience with ice.
such a blessing to see so many wise people here together taking part of this event. Thank you for being
here today. Before I begin, I want to assure all of you that I am in full possession of my mental faculties.
I am very healthy. I have no intentions of committing suicide or harm myself in any way, shape or form.
I love my family and I have no desire to disappear.
I am seeing this just in case something happens to be all of a sudden. With that being said, let's move
on and my God have mercy on me. My name is Miguel Avila. I am originally from Mexico and have been living
in this country for more than 22 years. I am a typical neighbor next door. I am a husband. I am a father.
I am a friend. I am a member of the community just like any of you here.
I am an advocate of fight for immigrants' rights, but I specifically fight for the rights of immigrants
for our immigrants' brothers and sisters in detention. When I visit those facilities, I do it along
with a group of very brave and dedicated volunteers that cares for the well-being of detained immigrants.
The organization name is Indiana Aid Assistance to Immigrants in Detention.
We observe the difficulties and emotional challenges faced by them, but only I can feel their pain and
sorrow in a particular way only I can feel. I can feel the impact and the gradual decline in morale
over time. And trust me, when I say that I understand the pain in a way most people can't, it's because
I have experienced that pain myself firsthand.
I had trouble that pat myself. Almost two years ago, I got released from one of the worst immigration
detention centers, where I spent a period a little over nine months in detention. I was granted bond,
and they still hold me 30 more days just because. Totally isolated from the senior world, with no sunlight,
no fresh air, no family visits,
Not knowing my whereabouts, losing track of time, not knowing if it's day or night. Living in some of
the worst conditions a human being could ever experience. But the worst, the worst part is not what
we go through in there. The worst part is what our broken families has to face while we're incarcerated.
The tremendous stress label my wife and family had to deal with
and the psychological trauma caused to my children. It's not something that can be easily handled. It
has caused loss and damage, and my family, my family's son would never be the same again. After experiencing
the hardship and challenges of the broken immigration system, I decided to turn adversity into advocacy.
I made a conscious decision to dedicate myself to activism and advocacy for immigrants' rights. This
journey began following my release, as I saw ways to support others who are facing similar struggles.
Today, when I'm not practicing my musical skills or writing poetry, I dedicate myself most of my time
visiting individuals held on the rights custody. My own experience
after falling on their broken immigration system, has provided me with a unique perspective, allowing
me to understand their suffering in a much deeper level. This shared pain, along with my own, has brought
me to a point where turning back is no longer an option. The empathy I feel for those detainees compels
me to continue my advocacy standing firmly alongside them
in their struggle for dignity and justice. These detention centers, they were built to challenge even
the most resilient human will. Although they tried to break me physically, I grew stronger. Although
they tried to defeat me mentally, I became smarter. Their efforts to undermine my morals only made me wiser,
And when they tried to wake me spiritually, I discovered that God had always been by my side. And that's
the reason why I decided to fight back in a more intelligent way. And just like that, poetry became
my language, music became my battle cry, and activism shifted shape into my spirit and shield to safeguard
the most vulnerable on the battlefield.
For my visit days, I walked in gloomy halls. I cannot ignore the haunting silence and the overwhelming
sense of despair that fills the air. Each visit reminds me that these are not just statistics. They
are somebody's brothers and sisters, somebody's fathers and mothers. They are somebody's sons and daughters.
And they just hang and embrace themselves
for the loved ones left behind. The overcrowded conditions and the absence of dignity are daily realities
for so many. Bearing witness to the suffering, all his strength as my resolve to fight for human treatment
and policies that respect the basic rights for every person, regardless of the immigration status. These
motivate me to stand by themselves, offer support,
and work tirelessly to champion the rights within our community. We know by fact that over 75% of the
people detained on the rights custody, over 75% of the people detained on the rights custody has no
criminal record at all. Most of them, they were illegally and unconstitutionally arrested, being racially
profiled just for not having a valid driver's license,
just being targeted for the skin color, or simply for being unable to speak fluid English, or having
a stroke accent. Here in Indiana, we have the Miami Correctional Facility, which happens to be a maximum
secure prison. The one that they have absolutely nicknamed the Speed Slammer. But I give it a different
name. I call it the Modern Asmitch. Because that's what they're doing.
There's nothing else but modern concentration camps. In there, they have almost 800 that they need already
under ice custody, but they have conditioned the place for 1,000 beds capacity. This is without counting
the other six detention centers all over Indiana. Now, I want you all to think for a moment and to please
keep in mind, every single bed in detention represents a broken family.
Every single belly detention represents pain and suffering of thousands of family members in crisis.
So this is what the people needs to get off the comfort zone. Because this is nothing new. This situation
got out of control a long time ago. People need to understand that simply by doing nothing, they contribute
to the system to keep pulling us over and over. So it is time to raise awareness.
It's time to raise our voices. We need to block and prevent future detention facilities from opening
in the state of Indiana, and not just the state of Indiana. Let's spread the voice around all over the
entire country. Let's keep praying for our brothers and sisters in detention, but we also need to take
action as well. We need to help each other. Only the people can save the people.
So please help us to keep helping those in need. This is the moment. Brothers and sisters, love your
neighbor as you love yourselves. May God bless you all. Thank you.
We will now, all of us, read the names of the IAS detainees that may enter the facility. Each one of
you, when you walk in, you receive the packet. There are one or two index cards. Each index card has
five names on it. Some of these names, how to pronounce them might not be familiar to you, but you all
do our best
to read all those names. So please, if you have those cards in front of you, join me as I read from
my index cards, and each one of us will have five names or 10 names to read. Ayelet Bektanovich Mikivai,
Samuel Mandolo, Francis Dunford,
Marius Naranjo Pico, Daniel Nava Puke, Ricardo Ponciano Felix, Kevin Portillo Vazquez, Ivonelle Puseli,
Lydon Pradenovich, Robinson Prunier.
Thank you. Andrew Gabriel and singing your systems will help us lead that song again to remind us that
we are all together. Can we come in closer so we can all hear each other's voices? All this space is
open right here.
Just like we
chosen to read the names of the detainees simultaneously to shed some light and to reflect on their
situations. As we read their names, the names were blurred, jumbled, unintelligible. These detainees
have been robbed of their individuality. They have been denied even their names.
They have been deprived of their dignity. They have been stripped of their humanity. How do we react
to all the suffering, suffering inflicted by men and women on their fellow brothers and sisters? Anger,
sadness, despair.
All of these emotions are certainly understandable, but there's hope. This weekend, starting today till
Sunday, there are over 60 vigils, demonstrations, marches, teach-ins, all across the state, from Zara
Ho to Richmond, from South Bend, all the way down to Jefferson County.
to all these people of Goodwill standing up and saying no to ICE, no to deportations, no to cruelty.
And you all are saying yes to our immigrant sisters and brothers, yes to dignity, yes to love. And we
can hope for a more human and humane future.
And you have one more song to sing, which is, in my mind, one of the most hopeful tunes. I know it's
called The Canticle of the Turning. And you can find it on your song sheet on the back side.
My soul cries out with a joyful shout that the God of my heart is great. And my spirit sings of the
wondrous things that you bring to the ones who wait. You placed your sight on your servant's flight
and my weakness you did not spurn.
Shall my name be blessed? Could the world be about to turn? My heart shall sing of the day you bring.
Let the fires of your justice burn. Wipe away all tears for the God draws near and the world is about to turn.
The King.
the nation.
As we go forth from here in a little bit, I ask you to consider prayerfully what you can do to help
those least of our brothers and sisters who are detained by ICE and those who live in fear of ICE. You
have five or 10 names on the index card on your package. Please feel free to take them home with you.
You are invited to pray for those detainees.
or to think of any other act of kindness or solidarity for these people. If you want to write a letter
to those persons on your card, there's an instruction sheet attached to the package that you got. Please
follow these instructions meticulously. You also have on that sheet information for our contact information
for our elected officials. I think they need to hear from all of us.
They feel free to contact them and demand that they stop their cruelty. If you look around you, there
are various places where there's a QR code. There's one sign over there by the speaker. There are a
few others around here. If you take your phone and zero in on the QR code, it will say immediately if
you want to an email to the Department of Correction Commissioner to end these cruel practices.
We'll sing one more time, we belong to each other. And after that song, there will be a blessing for
the Itagans.
Can I go forward from this place without pronouncing blessings? A blessing for the ICE detainees in
the Miami facility and in all ICE facilities across the country. May you be peaceful. May you be safe.
May you be free from suffering.
our immigrant brothers and sisters. May you be peaceful. May you be safe. May you be free from suffering.
For all of you, assembled here tonight, and all those people of goodwill who hold our immigrant brothers
in their hearts, as you leave this place, may you be peaceful,
May you be safe. May you be free from suffering. And for all men and women who are working on border
security, you might be thinking of them as our adversaries, our enemies, but we're called to love them
as well. So there's a blessing for them.
May you be peaceful. May you be safe. May you be free from suffering. Thank you all for coming.
It is a joy. It gives me hope that so many of you have come here tonight. Thank you. Thank you.