Early one morning, a special flight touched down in Guatemala City, carrying dozens of men and women who had just been deported from the United States. Instead of heading to the usual passenger gates, the plane taxied to the military side of the airport, where fighter jets roared overhead.

When the doors opened, the passengers were greeted by Guatemalan Vice President Karin Herrera and other officials, who welcomed them with open arms—and cookies.

This wasn’t just any flight; it was a chartered deportation operation, part of ongoing efforts to return undocumented migrants to their home countries. Many of those on board had lived in the US for years, working jobs and raising families, but their lack of legal status made them subject to removal.

The reception in Guatemala was warm and efficient. Returning migrants were offered coffee and snacks as they processed their temporary identification papers. Some arrived in gray sweats, their shoelaces confiscated by US authorities for safety reasons. Others carried little more than a plastic sack of belongings.

For Sara Tot-Botoz, the return was bittersweet. After a decade in Alabama, she was detained during a traffic stop and spent months in custody before being deported. Reunited with her daughter, whom she hadn’t seen in years, she wept. “It feels dangerous in the US now,” she said, vowing to stay in her indigenous community for good.

But not everyone shared her sentiment. Fidel Ambrocio, who left behind a wife and two young children in Alabama, was angry about his deportation. He insisted he wasn’t a criminal and hoped to return to the US, even if it meant risking illegal entry.

While the flights aren’t new, the process has drawn attention under President Donald Trump’s administration. Guatemalan officials emphasized their commitment to supporting returnees, helping them rebuild their lives back home.

For many, the journey ended with tears, hugs, and the taste of cookies—a small comfort after a long, uncertain road.