Inside a purple house near the U.S.–Mexico border, Frankz Palacios Escobar Rivera has carved out a sanctuary for men who have nowhere else to go.

For more than a year, Frankz, a formerly detained immigrant himself has opened his home to deported men dropped off in Tijuana with no money, no family, and no roadmap for starting over. With his wife, a few donated appliances, and a deep Christian faith, he has helped more than 60 men in the last year alone transition from immigration custody to a new life.

“There’s no food bank here, no government program waiting to catch them,” he said. “If they don’t have someone to meet them at the gate, the streets catch them and the streets here are rough.”

Frankz speaks from experience. After being detained at the Mesa Verde ICE facility in Bakersfield and later deported, he remembers the fear and chaos of arriving in Mexico alone, the culture shock of landing in a place he hadn’t seen in decades.

“I came here by bus from El Salvador. I didn’t know anyone. I didn’t have anything,” he said. “I felt anxiety and fear. Now I see it in the men I help. Some of them have spent 20 or 25 years in prison and don’t even know how to use a phone.”

That trauma and his own faith moved him to act. While still detained in Bakersfield, Frankz made a promise to himself: “If I get deported, I’m going to start a place for deported men. I want to help them get back on their feet.”

Today, his purple refuge house is known throughout Tijuana. Newly deported men are often given Frankz’s number while still in ICE custody. When the U.S. releases them to Mexico often without warning he drives an hour out to meet them.

“I tell them the make and color of my car, what I look like, and I warn them: Don’t get into anyone else’s car,” Frankz said. “There are people here who’ll rob them, abduct them, especially if they look lost.”

Once the men arrive at his home, they’re given toiletries, blankets, and a warm meal. 

“This isn’t a program,” Frankz said. “It’s a family. We want the guys to feel at home.”

Frankz Palacios Escobar stands in one of the rooms of his rented home in Tijuana, where he provides temporary shelter for recently deported men. He offers a place to sleep, help finding jobs and identification, and support as they adjust to life in Mexico. (Photo courtesy of Chuck Shawver) 

Men live in bunk beds or converted shacks on the property, and those who can’t find jobs especially those over 45, who are often excluded from labor markets in Mexico can work with Frankz in his small food businesses, selling grilled chicken and ribs. The businesses barely break even, but they keep the men busy and fed.

“We all help each other here,” he said. “Some of the guys do delivery. One man has been with us for a year. Others come and go. Some just need a place for a week, others stay longer.”

The meals come from leftovers when business is slow. Donations help, too. Someone recently gifted a stove, fridge, and large TV. The men take turns cooking and watching movies. They talk. They decompress. They start to heal.

Frankz Palacios Escobar’s small food business in Tijuana sells grilled chicken and ribs. The business helps support his household and provides jobs for some of the deported men staying at his home.

There are no food banks or social safety nets to lean on in Tijuana. Feeding 10 to 16 men daily is a constant challenge.

“Sometimes we run out of food. My mom sends me money. My aunt helps. It’s a family effort,” Frankz said. “But God always provides.”

Antonio Sedano has been living at the Tijuana home for a year. With no family in Mexico, he works alongside Frankz. (Photo courtesy of Chuck Shawver) 

What frustrates him is the cycle he sees again and again: deported men, lost and isolated, fall into homelessness, addiction, or worse.

“I’ve been to the areas where homeless people gather, where the addicts live,” he said. “Most of them? They’re deported. They didn’t have anyone here. Anxiety took over. They numbed the pain with drugs.”

His pastor noticed the same thing. That’s why he supported Frankz’s idea.

“He told me, ‘Frankz, go get them before they hit the streets,’” Frankz said.

Safety is one of Frankz’s biggest concerns. In Tijuana, both the police and local cartels watch newcomers closely. Many deported men have gang ties or prison records, and cartels sometimes try to recruit them. Frankz makes sure people know the men staying with him are part of a Christian ministry.

“We tell them, just say you’re from the purple house, the Christian house and they’ll leave you alone,” he said.

He shared the story of a man named Oscar, an ex-gang member who was stopped by cartel members after leaving the gym. When they found out he was living in Frankz’s house and attending church, they told him, “Just stay out of trouble,” and let him go.

That moment affirmed for Frankz that their home had become recognized in the community as a place of faith and peace.

Another man had done over 20 years behind bars and was deported with nowhere to go. Frankz housed him for a year and eventually helped him reunite with his family in another part of Mexico. 

In many cases, Frankz helps men relocate to be closer to family. 

Still, most choose to stay in Tijuana close enough for their loved ones in the U.S. to visit. 

Frankz works tirelessly to help men get identification, jobs, and when they’re ready apartments, often just steps from his own home.

“There are [dozens of] deported men on my block alone,” he said. “I want to keep them close. If something happens, we’re right there to support each other.”

But the system isn’t getting easier. Sometimes he receives calls late at night from men who’ve just been deported. Sometimes they come with no warning.

“I have to drop everything. My wife gets it. She knows this is our calling.”

Despite the sacrifices, Frankz has no plans to stop.

“This isn’t just what I do. It’s who I am,” he said. “As long as I’m breathing, I’ll keep doing this. One man at a time.”

Frankz (middle right) and his wife (middle left) stand in front of their grilled chicken and ribs business in Tijuana, joined by supporters from a visiting faith group. The couple uses the small business to help support their home for recently deported men. (Photo courtesy of Chuck Shawver)