Rodney Taylor, 47, a Liberia-born barber and double amputee with prosthetic legs, was released on 1 May from Georgia's Stewart Detention Center after 14 months in ICE custody. Agents with guns drawn had pulled him from his car on 15 February 2025 while his two youngest children — now eight and six — watched from the back seat. The basis for his detention: a teenage burglary conviction that the state of Georgia pardoned in 2010. Taylor is a green-card applicant brought to the US from Liberia as a young child on a medical visa. He lacks three fingers on his right hand, has high blood pressure, and developed painful bone spurs in his back during detention — where his prosthetic legs were never properly calibrated. His attorney, Sarah Owings, shared case paperwork confirming the pardon. None of this moved ICE to release him faster. The institutional resistance to his release was substantial. A habeas corpus petition, multiple protests, letters from state elected officials, and Georgia US Representative Lucy McBath holding up a letter signed by 21 lawmakers citing dangerous conditions at Stewart — all failed to secure his freedom before May. The letter, dated 17 February 2026, cited the Guardian's own reporting. ICE kept him locked up regardless. The extraction fell on the Taylor family with precision. During Rodney's detention, his wife Mildred Danis-Taylor lost her job and the family lost one of their two cars. She transformed from a healthcare worker into a full-time advocate — not by choice, but because the system demanded it. Former fellow detainees, now deported to India, Nigeria, and Indonesia, called from abroad when they saw news of his release. "I can't believe you made it!" they said. Rodney called the moment bittersweet. Owings identified the mechanism that ultimately worked: "Every time long-term detention cases have resulted in releases, it's due to a multi-dimensional effort — advocates, family, media, lawyers, Congress." This is not a system that self-corrects. It requires a coalition of external actors applying sustained pressure to override its default setting, which is continued detention. Taylor now checks in with ICE via an app weekly. The agency visits his house monthly. His immigration status remains unresolved, with an appeal pending before the Board of Immigration Appeals under the Department of Justice. He takes two naps a day, lacks energy, and is spending the week at medical appointments. His youngest children cling to him; the wife of another detainee warned Mildred to expect trauma responses. He has taken each of his three older children — ages 16 to 21 — out to dinner individually. "He's like their therapist," Mildred says. The couple plans to open a barber shop and community center focused on immigration reform and healthcare. Supporters have urged Mildred to run for office. Rodney backs the idea: "You gotta run for city council, start small, show 'em what you're made of." His own position is unambiguous. "When I saw how they were treating people in Stewart, I was like: 'This is too much. This system, they rigged it, just for money,'" he told a crowd at a recent fundraiser. "They're playing with people's lives."
