Unjustly deported to Haiti in 2021, RFKHR client and longtime New Yorker Paul Pierrilus is still fighting for a chance to come home. Writing for the USA Today Network, Paul describes his daily struggle to survive in a country torn apart by gang violence, kidnappings, and political instability and pleads with the Biden administration to facilitate his safe return.
For many, the new year is a season of fresh starts and new beginnings.
But for me – a longtime New Yorker who was unjustly deported – 2025 marks yet another year separated from my family and community, exiled in a country that is not my own and grows more dangerous by the day.
For nearly four years, I have lived in hiding in Haiti—a country that has no legal claim over me, and that I had never set foot in before 2021. It is a place ranked among the most dangerous cities in the world, with one of the highest murder rates per capita. My existence here is under constant threat. Haiti is in the midst of a humanitarian crisis, overrun by gang violence, kidnappings, and political instability. This unlawful and inhumane exile has subjected me to life-threatening conditions and unimaginable hardships.
I was born to Haitian parents in the French territory of St. Martin, and moved to New York when I was five years old. I don’t have French or Haitian citizenship. Technically, I’m considered stateless—a designation for individuals without citizenship in any nation. But by all measures, I’m a New Yorker. I spent 35 years living in upstate New York, surrounded by a vibrant and diverse community. It’s the only home I have ever known.
In my early 20s, I made a one-time mistake and was convicted on a drug-related charge. It was a lapse in judgment that I have spent decades atoning for. I took full responsibility, paid my debt to society, and dedicated the next 15 years to rebuilding my life. After completing my sentence, I became a financial consultant. I spent over a decade helping individuals and families plan for their futures. I invested in my community – I hosted barbecues and movie nights for my family and friends, volunteered at my church, and lived with integrity.
But in 2021, during the last days of the first Trump administration, I was suddenly taken into custody by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. From there, I was detained and ultimately deported to Haiti.
Despite proving my rehabilitation, I have been punished twice: first for my past actions and again through this unjust exile. This double punishment has condemned me to Haiti—a country where I have no citizenship, no ties, and no safety.
My deportation has thrown me into unimaginable peril. I have dodged gunfire on multiple occasions, lost my home to arson, and lost neighbors to kidnappings and murders.
I survived two earthquakes and a cholera outbreak during a nationwide lockdown. Gravely ill and bedridden, I lost 20 pounds in just seven days, with no access to food, clean water, or medical care due to hospital closures.
Without an ID, passport, or legal status, I am defenseless in a nation ruled by suspicion. Locals could easily mistake me for a “bandi” (gang member), making me a target for both violent gangs and the “bwa kale” movement—a citizen-led crusade where mobs kill suspected gang members on sight, without trial. Suspicion is a death sentence in Haiti. Isolation isn’t a choice; it is my only means of survival. I am constantly on the move, living as a ghost, stripped of everything that validates my existence. I do not speak Haitian Creole fluently, leaving me unable to explain my circumstances. In this chaos, survival is far from guaranteed.
I have paid my debt to society, but the ongoing punishment I face in exile is not justice—it is cruel and unethical. Haiti has been under a Level 4 “Do Not Travel” advisory throughout my exile. To leave me here is not only inhumane but a violation of America’s commitment to fairness, redemption, and humanity.
As President Biden said last month during his historic pardon announcement, America is a country built on second chances. I pose no threat to society. I have met every obligation, lived with integrity, and proven that I can contribute to my community. Last year, New York governor Kathy Hochul granted me a full and unconditional pardon for my past conviction, acknowledging the man I’ve become and the ways I have transformed my life. Yet, I have been condemned to a life of fear and suffering in a country that is not my own. I’m asking for the same grace that Mr. Biden has shown others. Mr. Biden, by resolving this crisis once and for all, you would not only bring closure to my situation but also reinforce the compassion that has defined your administration.
No one is perfect, but no one deserves a death sentence for a mistake they have already atoned for. I deserve the opportunity to live in safety and with human dignity. I am Americanized—I attended school in the U.S. from K-12. I vividly remember standing with my hand over my heart, reciting: “I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.” I truly believe in those words, especially the promise of “liberty and justice for all.”
Mr. Biden, your administration holds the power to correct this wrong and restore my life, reuniting me with my elderly parents, loved ones, and community. I have proven that I can overcome my past.
I am writing with a profound sense of urgency, given the ongoing humanitarian crisis and the imminent transition to a new administration. Next month will mark four years of living in exile—a punishment far beyond what is reasonable. Please, let this nightmare end. Let me come home.