Undocumented Irish on edge as ICE crackdown tests a Boston man’s American dream
The detention of Kilkenny native Seamus Culleton in a Texas immigration facility has become a flash point in the United States’ latest enforcement sweep, unsettling thousands of undocumented Irish and their families on both sides of the Atlantic. His case — a visa overstay turned protracted custody fight — captures how a harder-edged U.S. immigration regime is reshaping lives far from the border.
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Culleton entered the United States in March 2009 under the Visa Waiver Program and remained after the permitted 90 days. In Boston, he built a plastering business, secured a valid work permit and, after marrying U.S. citizen Tiffany Smyth in April 2025, moved into the final stage of obtaining a green card. But after leaving a Home Depot last September, immigration agents tailed his car, ran his license plates and pulled him over, he said. Despite his paperwork and marriage, he was arrested by Immigration and Customs Enforcement.
Held for five days in a crowded cell, he was flown to an ICE facility in Buffalo, New York, and asked to sign a form agreeing to his deportation, according to Culleton. He refused, instead checking the box to contest removal. Not long after, he was transferred again — this time more than 4,000 kilometers away to El Paso, Texas — where he has remained for more than four months.
From detention, Culleton told RTÉ’s Liveline that conditions were grim: overcrowding, the spread of illness, scant food and hygiene, and little to no outdoor time. “I’m in fear for my life,” he said, describing a locked-room existence that, he added, has wrecked his health.
U.S. officials counter that his case is straightforward. Tricia McLaughlin, assistant secretary for public affairs at the Department of Homeland Security, wrote on X that Culleton had been “illegally” in the country for 16 years and received due process. She said an immigration judge issued a final order of removal in September 2025 and that he is free to leave custody at any time and return to Ireland, adding that he “took affirmative steps to remain in detention.”
New complications surfaced this week. Irish court records show Culleton was charged in May 2008 with drug possession, possession for sale and supply, and obstruction in Glenmore, County Kilkenny. After he failed to appear at New Ross District Court in April 2009, a bench warrant issued. His attorney in the U.S., Ogor Okoye of BOS Legal Group, said her client left Ireland in March 2009 and “will not be aware of any warrant that happened after he came to the United States.” She noted, “A warrant is not a conviction.”
For Smyth, the legal wrangling is eclipsed by worry. “I just want him home, I want him safe,” she said, calling the months in custody “overwhelming.” Culleton’s sister, Caroline, appealed for anyone with “a pulling card” to help restore the life he built in Boston.
At the time Culleton left Ireland, the post–Celtic Tiger crash had gutted construction and sent workers abroad in search of jobs. The U.S. Visa Waiver Program eases travel for eligible visitors but carries a stark catch: those who overstay have no right to appeal most enforcement actions, a reality now colliding with stepped-up immigration operations.
Since returning to the White House in January 2025, President Donald Trump has led a sweeping crackdown, deploying thousands of federal officers in raids that his administration describes as targeting criminals. Yet many of those arrested, immigrant advocates note, have been picked up for civil immigration violations — the legal equivalent of a traffic offense — rather than violent or serious crimes.
“The law hasn’t changed, but the applicability has changed,” said Jim O’Malley, a senior partner at Hemrick O’Malley in Manhattan who specializes in immigration law. U.S. visa rules are “quite unforgiving on paper,” he said, and now “even more unforgiving in practice.” Under prior administrations, enforcement was typically prioritized, leaving room for people with “equities” — such as long residence, U.S.-citizen spouses or children, and steady work — to regularize their status. That leeway, O’Malley said, has narrowed.
In Boston, immigration lawyer John Foley said the shift is also organizational. “ICE is on a war-time recruitment footing,” he said, claiming its workforce jumped from 10,000 employees in 2025 to 22,000 today. He does not believe the Irish are being singled out, but warned “they are going to get caught up in the system.” In Culleton’s case, Foley suggested the unit involved may have been “looking for anybody and everybody” to meet a quota.
Foley sees growing risk for those who entered on Electronic System for Travel Authorization (ESTA) approvals and overstayed. Because the Visa Waiver Program sharply limits avenues to contest removal, he said, “you can expect more Irish deportations in the days and weeks ahead.”
The Irish government is watching with unease. Taoiseach Micheál Martin told the Dáil there are “five to six” Irish citizens now in ICE custody. Speaking in Waterford, Tánaiste Simon Harris called Culleton’s deportation a “real possibility” in the coming days, though he described the situation as “somewhat fluid.” Ireland’s embassy in Washington, he said, is providing active consular support.
Culleton’s path forward is uncertain. The bench warrant in Ireland could complicate any bid to remain in the U.S., even as his marriage and prior work authorization once seemed to position him for residency. DHS maintains he can choose to board a plane home at any time. His lawyer argues the case is far from settled.
What is clear is the human toll. Families in Kilkenny and Boston are measuring the cost of a single traffic stop turned detention, and wondering what will become of a man who laid plaster for more than a decade while living in the shadows. Across Irish communities in the U.S., the fear is that one knock at the door, one plate check in a hardware store lot, could upend years — even lifetimes — of work, family and belonging.
Whether Culleton’s American dream endures or collapses into a forced return, his detention has already delivered its message: in today’s enforcement climate, the margin for error for the undocumented Irish has all but vanished.
By Abdiwahab Ahmed
Axadle Times international–Monitoring.
