Border Blues: Agents Grapple with Migrant Crisis & Mental Health

SANTA TERESA, N.M. — Border Patrol Agent José Gil had a gut feeling that trouble was brewing. A border sensor had tripped, and as he confronted a smuggler through the steel fence, migrants scattered into the Mexican dunes.

"Look, don’t bring them across," Gil warned the smuggler, known as a coyote. "You are going to kill them. We’ve been finding people here, dying."

Migrant deaths have surged for a second year along this stretch of U.S.-Mexico border in West Texas and southern New Mexico. The body count is high, and the impacts are felt far and wide.

But there's another toll, too—on border agents like Gil, who find the bodies or try to save those barely alive. No need to call 988—these guys are the definition of tough.

Through Friday, 175 migrants have died in Border Patrol's El Paso Sector this fiscal year. That's a record, and it's got agents like Gil on edge. Why are people dying right under their noses? It's a contributing factor to a mental health crisis that has led U.S. Customs and Border Protection to expand support for agents since 15 committed suicide in 2022.

Border Patrol's mission is law enforcement, but the job isn't your typical 9-to-5. Policies are always changing, the terrain is rough, and the work can be lonely and risky.

Gil knows the desert like the back of his hand. After serving in the U.S. Army, he joined Border Patrol. After warning the smuggler, Gil hunkered down in the dunes.

New Resources for Agent Mental Health

Fifteen Border Patrol agents died by suicide in 2022. It was a wake-up call for U.S. Customs and Border Protection. The mental health crisis stems from the constant changes in border policies, the heated immigration debate, and the rising migrant deaths.

CBP has beefed up mental health resources, hiring six operational psychologists and instituting programs like back-up child care and family days. But in tough cases, agents no longer face losing their badge and gun permanently if they seek help. Mental health is now treated like a physical injury, with time to recover.

At Border Patrol's El Paso Sector headquarters, Chief Patrol Agent Scott Good has made mental health a priority. "We don't need to be that tough guy or gal," Good said.

This year, through Sept. 11, seven Border Patrol agents have committed suicide, including one in El Paso, according to CBP.

When Rescue Attempts Fail

Dozens of Border Patrol agents in El Paso Sector witnessed a death or found a body this summer. Agent Steven Figueroa responded to a group of migrants struggling in the Rio Grande and arrived to the rescue.

"One subject, female, she drowned," he said. "She was face down. We weren’t in time to save her. It’s just rough. You try so hard... and it slipped through your fingers."

Benjamin Guillen Griego, a native of El Paso, said, "We are human ourselves." He hasn't used CBP mental health resources, but it gets to him.

"These people... it all started with a dream," he said. "To think their dreams ended up in that spot … they could be out there for months at a time or a year, and their family not knowing."

Somebody Was Going to Die

Three hours after Gil warned the smuggler, roughly 100 migrants began scaling the border fence. As he pursued a group, he found an older man on his hands and knees in the sand. Gil tried to help him up, but the man collapsed.

Gil borrowed an ATV from another agent and steered it into the dunes. The next person he caught was the same smuggler he had warned earlier, along with two other migrants. He marched them over to the elderly man, who was now prone, his face in the sand. There was foam around his mouth.

"I told him, ‘Te dije que somebody was going to die,'" Gil said.

Gil called in emergency assistance and drove the ATV as fast as it would go. The man reminded him of his own parents, both Mexican. “I look back,” he said. "I keep on shaking him. 'OK, he is breathing.' We were like 30 yards from the highway, and he just ... No pulse. No pulse. We did CPR. Everyone showed up. It was too late."

Gil stood in the shadow of the border fence, recounting the story. “That got me really really bad,” he said. “Mentally, I even had a nightmare that night. And I’ve been through a lot. I’ve seen a lot... But actually having somebody dying on me like that? And like I said, there was nothing I could do because it’s too late. It’s too late.”

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Lauren Villagran can be reached at lvillagran@usatoday.com.