After 16 years of building a life in the United States, Samuel Kangethe has made a heart-wrenching decision — to leave the only home he’s known in adulthood and return to Kenya, alone.

His choice to self-deport means walking away from his American wife, Latavia, and their three U.S.-born children — not because he wants to, but because the immigration system left him with no other viable path.

I need to take the option of self-deporting myself,” Kangethe says, the words landing heavy. “I don’t want to be taken away in shackles. I want to leave on my own terms.

It’s a decision made after countless late-night conversations with his wife, Latavia Kangethe. A decision that’s left their family raw. For months, they weighed every possible option, hoping for a last-minute breakthrough — a legal loophole, a change in policy, a miracle. But none came.

Kangethe first arrived in the U.S. on a student visa and spent the next 16 years working hard, paying taxes, raising a family, and becoming part of his local community. But like millions of undocumented immigrants in the U.S., he lived in a constant state of uncertainty. Despite being a husband and father to U.S. citizens, there was no clear path to legal residency.

“This was never about escaping Kenya,” he says. “It was about creating a life with my family, giving my children stability and opportunity.”

Now, that life is being ripped apart.

Latavia will remain in the U.S. with their children. Overnight, she becomes a single mother, trying to hold together a household that has lost its anchor. “This has broken us in ways I can’t explain,” she said softly. “We tried everything. We hoped. But hope isn’t always enough.”

Kangethe’s return to Kenya means starting from scratch. With no job lined up and few resources, he’s facing an uncertain future. Still, he holds on to one thing: control over how he leaves. “I’d rather walk out with dignity than be dragged out in handcuffs,” he says. “My children deserve to remember their father standing tall.”

The story has resonated deeply across immigrant communities, where many live with similar fears. It underscores the quiet pain experienced by families who live in legal limbo — contributing, sacrificing, and loving, only to be told they don’t belong.

Samuel Kangethe’s departure isn’t just a relocation. It’s a separation. A fracture. A forced goodbye between a father and his children, a husband and his wife. One more name added to the growing list of lives shaped — and often shattered — by a system with few answers.