Hector “Alessandro” Negrete got the phone call nine months after he moved to Guadalajara, Mexico, hoping for a fresh start without the onerous weight of uncertainty and fear he carried in Los Angeles.

“Hey, you have something that says, ‘invoice to border patrol,’” Negrete recalls his former roommate telling him around 8 p.m. that night as he was meal-prepping after the gym. He consulted with his lawyer, and his roommate tore the envelope open.

“Vecino, what is this?” his roommate asked, calling him “neighbor” in Spanish.

Inside was a seven-digit number. He owed the Department of Homeland Security $1.8 million, the paper read.

“What the hell?” Negrete said he first thought. Perplexed, he initially believed the letter was fraudulent. He got on a FaceTime call with his roommate to process the shock.

His second thought: “Oh my God, I’m gonna lose my money. I’m gonna lose my job.”

The letter sent to his old address where he still files US taxes said he must pay a $1,820,352 civil penalty for his failure to comply with a 2009 deportation order, according to a copy of the notice reviewed by CNN.

He was only 3 months old when he and his parents fled violence in their Mexican hometown and immigrated to California.

Negrete remained in the US for over 15 years after receiving a final deportation order, repeatedly trying to gain legal status but facing barriers, he said.

But after President Donald Trump returned to office in 2025, 43-year-old Negrete’s immigration enforcement fears and declining nonprofit work made his life in Los Angeles increasingly untenable.

“Being in a cage in LA … is not the dream that I had for my future,” Negrete told CNN.

Early last year, Negrete decided to leave. He crossed into Tijuana, Mexico, by car in September 2025, before flying to Guadalajara two days later, Negrete said.

“I really genuinely felt that once I left the US, I would be done,” Negrete said.

Negrete’s situation is not unique. He is one of more than 100,000 undocumented immigrants who have received fines from DHS from the beginning of the second Trump administration to mid-July – amounting to more than $84 billion, DHS told CNN Monday. DHS has collected more than $1.2 million as of July 16, the agency said.

DHS warns that those who have received a final order of removal may be fined $998 per day if they don’t self-deport, but the fines can be forgiven if they use the CBP Home app to leave, according to a July news release from the agency. Those who do will receive a free flight home and an “exit bonus of $2,600.”

“Our message is clear: illegal aliens in the country unlawfully should leave now or face consequences—including financial penalties,” DHS said in a statement to CNN.

Charles Moore, a senior attorney at legal nonprofit Public Justice – which is suing the federal government for the immigration fines – said DHS is imposing penalties on people who may be complying with immigration requirements or pursuing lawful routes to remain in the country.

“This administration is weaponizing these fines to terrorize families and to push immigrants out of the country,” Moore said.

The federal government has argued the fine program was authorized by statutes passed by Congress nearly 30 years ago and is lawful.

“Whether an alien remains in country to pursue other forms of immigration relief is not a defense under the statutes,” the government said in a January court filing.

DHS referred CNN to the Treasury and Justice departments when reached for additional information.

Negrete and his lawyers twice provided evidence that he was living in Mexico, but officials demanded additional documentation, he and his attorney Marissa Montes said. Now Negrete – who works remotely for a US-based international nonprofit fighting ageism – is worried the government could pursue his US income and is considering joining litigation challenging the fines.

Negrete, born in Mexico in 1982, settled with his family first in South Los Angeles and later grew up primarily on Los Angeles’ east side in Boyle Heights.

Negrete spent a month in Mexico when he was around 6 years old. During his return trip back to the US, a woman hired to bring him across the border held him for more than a week and demanded additional money from his family, Negrete said. He described being tied in a vehicle and confined at her home.

“By the second night, I stopped crying as much because, at that young age, I guess I was just like, well, this is my new life,” he said.

Negrete did not discover his immigration status until after graduating from high school, he recounted.

Negrete said he had been accepted to the University of California, Berkeley, but learned he did not have a Social Security number while applying for scholarships.

“I remember asking my mom, like, ‘Oh, where’s my Social?’ … It was just a huge shock of confusion.”

Unable to afford college, he began working to help support his mother.

“I worked hard my entire life up to that point, and I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t go to college,” Negrete said. “I didn’t know how to feel angry because I didn’t know who to be angry at.”

Negrete says he repeatedly tried to obtain legal status: First through his father, who became a lawful permanent resident after marrying a US citizen. But that effort failed because his father had accidentally omitted him from an immigration form, he said. A DUI conviction in 2008 had prevented Negrete from initially applying for Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) in 2012, though his record was eventually expunged, Montes told CNN. He then started the DACA application process before new applications were halted by the Trump administration in 2017, he said.

At the time, undocumented status was discussed through “shame or secrecy,” he recalled.

Negrete later became open about his status and got involved in immigrant rights and social justice work. He was a neighborhood council member and described himself as a “Dreamer,” although Negrete never received DACA status.

“Learning to tell my story from a place of resilience over fear was something that I needed to practice,” Negrete said.

Negrete built a career in nonprofits and philanthropy and became an openly undocumented and queer community advocate.

Negrete first considered leaving the US during Trump’s first term but said he stayed after his mother was diagnosed with cancer in late 2017.

Then came the second Trump administration. Negrete had lost work and tried drawing on savings before concluding that remaining in the US was no longer financially sustainable. He didn’t want to spend four years hiding or continue living with uncertainty over detention and removal, he explained.

“It wasn’t even fear of being deported. It was more the in-between space,” he said.

He had already decided to leave the US when immigration operations and protests in Los Angeles intensified in June 2025. He spent much of that summer indoors, too scared to go to the gym or engage in his usual activities. Then, he began saying his goodbyes.

“I didn’t want to live in a cage,” he said.

Before leaving, Negrete played in a final softball tournament in Sacramento. The week before, he held a yard sale and going-away party where friends bought most of his belongings – like his scary movie memorabilia collection – as keepsakes.

He gave guests cards with the message: “A new home, different door, same key.”

Months before leaving, Negrete shared the same sentiment in a “love letter” on Substack.

“After over 40 years of living in Los Angeles, a city that shaped me, strengthened me, and loved me back, I’ve decided to repatriate politically back to Mexico,” he wrote. “But let me be absolutely clear: this is not goodbye to LA, but rather a rebirth for me, and hopefully for some of you too.”

Negrete stuffed one large suitcase with coats and professional clothes, along with a smaller bag with his dog’s things. He said he left Los Angeles on September 4, 2025, and drove about three and a half hours on Interstate 5. Accompanied by friends and his dog, Negrete crossed the border into Tijuana, he remembered.

On the way, Negrete and his friends stopped at a beach for a spiritual ceremony. They spent the rest of the drive talking, and one of his friends pleaded, “It’s not too late; we can turn back,” Negrete recounted.

Negrete said he tried to “keep it together,” but he broke down that night in Tijuana when his friends shared a heartfelt video they made him – whom they lovingly referred to as “Ale.” A photo slideshow played and friends shared farewell messages on camera saying they would miss “the glue to our group.”

The next day, he took a one-way flight to Guadalajara, Negrete said, feeling anxious as he traveled farther into Mexico.

“What am I doing leaving this very comfortable, uncomfortable place?” Negrete remembered thinking. His friends dropped him off “like I was in college.”

Negrete described the move as emotionally painful yet ultimately empowering.

But the culture shock kicked in swiftly: Although he was among the strongest Spanish speakers in his US social circle, he initially struggled with Guadalajara’s local dialect, he joked. Finding housing proved to be another hurdle. It took him around four months to obtain Mexican identification and a tax number.

“I really had to navigate everything from being a tourist,” Negrete said.

By January, his life had settled into a familiar rhythm: During the week, Negrete worked, went to the gym and walked his dog. He spent weekends hiking, visiting dog parks and exploring Guadalajara with a new group of friends.

He described having lingering anxiety around law enforcement: Seeing police initially triggered worry conditioned by his years living without status in the US, though later he had begun to feel safer in Mexico.

“I’m like, wait, I’m fine. I’m good,” he said.

But back in Los Angeles, the life he thought he had escaped nearly a year prior came back to haunt him: the massive fine.

Dated May 5, the fine cites the Immigration and Nationality Act Section 274D(a), which authorizes DHS to impose monetary penalties on any noncitizen who “willfully fails or refuses to depart from the United States” after a final order of removal.

The notice says “If immigration officials can verify your departure, and if you are otherwise eligible for the debt rescission program, the United States will rescind the debt listed above.”

Negrete’s lawyers responded twice, but DHS dismissed their appeal and requested more evidence, according to his attorney and a notice reviewed by CNN.

“There was ample proof that Alessandro self-deported,” Montes said. “We provided that proof to the government, and even then, they said it wasn’t sufficient.”

Negrete said his lawyers had immediately responded to the initial letter, barely meeting the 15-day deadline for an appeal.

The appeal was filed on May 20 and the government denied it on June 2, his lawyers said. A day later, the government sent another invoice with the penalty and gave Negrete 10 days to appeal through email. Negrete responded on June 12, providing additional evidence he lives in Mexico, to which DHS responded that he didn’t submit enough evidence.

The fact that Negrete drove into Tijuana rather than flying directly from Los Angeles complicated documentation of his exit, Montes said. His attorneys say they submitted evidence that he left the country: signed declarations from a friend and reporter, his lease agreement in Guadalajara, domestic plane tickets within Mexico, a news article documenting his move and his Mexican ID documents.

Now, his legal team is preparing another submission that will include a passport stamp from another country.

The department also asked him to record his departure through the CBP Home app, but Negrete said he has not done so yet because he is concerned about how that information might be used.

DHS had said in the July release that by using the CBP Home app, “illegal aliens earn forgiveness for any civil fines or penalties for failing to depart the country.”

In July, two US senators sent a letter to the administration demanding the fines be halted, saying it has “abused” its authorities under the Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigration Responsibility Act “in an attempt to frighten immigrants—many of whom are seeking a green card or who have maintained lawful presence in the United States for decades.”

A lawsuit challenging the DHS fines was filed last November in Massachusetts on behalf of two women, proceeding under the pseudonyms Maria L. and Nancy M.

The lead attorney, Moore, said regulatory changes adopted in June 2025 removed several protections for fine recipients, which DHS said would “make it easier and more efficient to fine illegal aliens.”

Recipients previously had 30 days to respond and could request an extension; now they have 15 business days, the rule says.

Immigrants also previously received a “notice of intention to fine,” but the current notice is described as a “notice of violation and order.” Extensions and in-person interviews are unavailable, and the appeals process for the penalties has been transferred from an appeals board to DHS, according to the rule. The revisions also removed the ability to ask DHS to rescind a penalty after a final decision is made, so a person who later becomes a lawful permanent resident may remain liable for the fine, Moore said. DHS, however, can reopen decisions at any time to reconsider and reduce or rescind fines, according to the rule.

The notices do not adequately explain what conduct allegedly violated the law and the size of the fines violates the Constitution’s prohibition against excessive fines, the lawsuit in Massachusetts alleges.

Moore argues the fines are being used to financially and psychologically pressure immigrants to leave the US and the government is not adequately considering whether a person “willfully” failed to depart, as required by law.

The federal government has noted officials still make an individual determination of whether a person’s conduct was willful or voluntary, according to the January court filing.

CNN has reached out to the Department of Justice for comment.

A fine of $1.8 million appears to be among the most common penalty amounts, representing $998 a day over five years, Moore said.

About 70% of surveyed attorneys of $998-per-day fine recipients say their clients had obtained or were pursuing lawful status, according to an August report from the New York University School of Law’s Immigrant Rights Clinic. Like Negrete, over half had resided in the US for at least a decade after receiving their final deportation order.

Moore said the court held a hearing July 22 on the plaintiffs’ request for a stay, which would prevent the government from imposing or enforcing the fines in the challenged manner while litigation proceeds. The judge is now considering that motion, and a ruling is expected in the coming weeks or months, Moore said.

Because Negrete works for US clients and pays US taxes using an Individual Taxpayer Identification Number, he worries authorities could garnish his wages or take other collection measures, he said.

The government has filed over 50 lawsuits against fine recipients as of May, according to the NYU report. If successful, they could then garnish their wages, place a lien on their property or freeze funds in their bank accounts, the report states. By law and regulation, the federal government can also utilize administrative wage garnishment without a ruling in a collections suit, the report states.

The fines primarily affect working-class people who could never afford to pay the fine, the report said.

Montes said it remains unclear how the government intends to collect the penalties or whether it could garnish Negrete’s US-sourced wages.

Negrete is now saving more money and paying his rent in advance to ensure he has housing if the dispute interrupts his income.

He does not plan to move back to the US, but he does hope to eventually visit loved ones after a 10-year reentry bar expires, he said. His mother lives in Denver, and his father and most of his siblings are in Pomona, California. Because his parents have legal status and his siblings are US citizens, they can visit him instead.

Though he does not regret leaving, Negrete said getting legal advice might have changed how he approached his departure. After moving, Negrete’s lawyers told him his childhood trafficking experience might have provided a route to lawful status.

“I still believe that I made the best decision that I thought for myself in the moment,” Negrete said.

He said moving to Mexico has allowed him to travel and consider buying property – possibilities he could not imagine in Los Angeles.

But Negrete and Montes strongly urge undocumented people considering departure from the US to consult an immigration attorney first, investigate all potential relief and understand the consequences of leaving.

His advice to others: “Talk to a lawyer…Definitely don’t do it the way that I did.”

There are countless things Negrete says he misses about LA: his “chosen family,” playing with his softball team, running with the Boyle Heights Bridge Runners on Wednesdays and downtown nightlife on weekends.

“But I don’t miss living under persecution,” he said.