‘Thought I Was Going to Die’: Tunisian Singer Detained for Weeks Fights Deportation While Trying to Finish Music

Rami Othmane‘s favorite recording studio is in Temecula, Calif., about 85 miles from his Los Angeles home. Which ordinarily wouldn’t be a problem — but the 36-year-old Tunisian singer wears an ankle monitor, a reminder that he recently spent 13 days at a federal detention center while applying for a green card.

“He called to book his last session so we could put the video out,” says Wafaa Alrashid, his wife. “And he’s not allowed to go beyond 70 miles. It’s affecting what he needs to do to finish his song.”

The ankle bracelet is one of many “undignifying” experiences, according to Alrashid, the Utah-born chief of staff at Huntington Hospital in Pasadena, that Othmane has had to endure since U.S. immigration agents arrested him July 13 as part of a regional crackdown. In a phone interview, Othmane and Alrashid describe “third-world” conditions during his 13-day detention at a downtown L.A. facility known as B-18: no soap, shower or toothpaste, then a three-hour drive to a Phoenix courtroom in a small bus with nine other people with no air-conditioning in the back. 

“The fear is beyond being deported,” Othmane says. “The fear is they put me in that same place and I die there.”

Othmane, released Aug. 7, is one of many international musicians who’ve been deported, detained, imprisoned or denied entry since President Trump took office in January and made immigration crackdowns a priority. ICE detained Loose Ends singer Jane Eugene, who is British, for overstaying her visa in July; General Fiyah, a New Zealand reggae singer who’d been scheduled to perform at a Washington festival, was detained and deported earlier this month; and Jaroslav Škuta, a Czech clarinetist for a chamber ensemble, was detained at Detroit Metro Airport last month and refused entry into the U.S. (None of these artists responded to requests for comment.)

In an emailed statement, a senior Department of Homeland Security official called Othmane an “illegal alien” whose B-2 tourist visa expired more than nine years ago.

“President Trump and Secretary [Kristi] Noem are committed to restoring integrity to the visa program and ensuring it is not abused to allow aliens a permanent one-way ticket to remain in the U.S.,” the official said. The official called allegations of “inhumane” conditions and lack of medical care during ICE custody “FALSE,” adding that detainees receive “proper meals, medical treatment and … opportunities to communicate with lawyers and their family members.

“This is the best healthcare [that] many aliens have received in their entire lives,” the official added. “Meals are certified by dieticians. Ensuring the safety, security and well-being of individuals in our custody is a top priority at ICE.”

Alrashid said Othmane was previously married to a U.S. citizen and held a work permit while applying for a green card. After their divorce, he lost both the permit and his application status. Following multiple COVID-related court delays, a judge halted his deportation in 2022. Since marrying Alrashid last year, Othmane has regained his work permit and filed a new green card application, which he showed to U.S. agents when they stopped him while he was driving to a grocery store.

During a phone conversation with Alrashid, Othmane — recently released from detention — woke up and agreed to an interview, speaking in a voice made raspy by what he described as the chilly conditions at B-18.

Dr. Alrashid said you’re wearing an ankle monitor. How long will that last?

Yes, I’m still wearing it, and no one is telling me when I’m going to be able to remove it. I don’t even know why I have it. If I want to travel, to go to different states, it’s impossible now. It is affecting my music for sure. I lost my voice, as you can hear. It’s been like this since I came [home]. I did one performance since the first week I left, and it was not easy to perform with a sore throat and a lot of coughing.

How did the performance go?

It was really tough. Emotionally and physically, it was tough. It was at a Tunisian restaurant. We got a lot of people. It was sold out. 

Your wife said you went through “nightmare hell” while in custody. What was that like?

I had never felt that I could lose my life in the U.S. while I was in custody. Because, always, human rights are first. But now that’s not the case anymore. I feared for my life. I thought I was going to die — which is not normal. They should rethink the system and how they deport and how they process the deportation. I know this doesn’t happen to everyone, but it shouldn’t happen to anyone.

Do you feel like you’re out of the woods now? 

No, no. I don’t feel safe here anymore, honestly. They don’t care. Too many times in the detention center, and also when being transported to Arizona, I felt like I was a package and not a human. They tell you, “No restroom for four hours.” OK, but some people have kidney problems, some have heart problems. “OK, use a bottle.”

That’s horrible.

They take your humanity, they take your dignity. They see you as an object. The shocking part is we’re all here because of human rights, because of feeling safe. In all third-world countries, these things can happen in jail. Now it’s not safe. I worry about my wife. She’s a U.S. citizen. I worry about her whenever she leaves home. Now people can say they’re ICE, and they’re not, and kidnap people. I don’t want to sound like I don’t like this country. I like this country. I’m just criticizing the system.

Tell me about the music video you’re working on and when it will come out.

In a few weeks, if possible. The video is ready. Everything is ready except my voice and the mix and master. It’s really hard to find a studio. It’s hard to find somebody who understands Arabic music. The name of the song is “Faman Allah.” It’s a classic. I had to record the music in Turkey. The vocal I did here as a demo, and now I’m doing the final vocal.

How long have you been singing?

I’ve been a musician all my life. I graduated from a university of music in Tunisia, and I started singing when I was five years old.

How do you make your living as a musician in the U.S.?

It’s more volunteering. I never worked literally as a musician. I don’t have [a] work permit yet. Then my green card got canceled, so I stopped working.

Since President Trump took office, multiple international artists have been deported or detained. How does this affect music?

We know a lot of musicians, especially immigrants. They serve their communities. Every community here needs music for their weddings, for their entertainment. Deporting them — and deporting us — really affects the community. People get attached to us. They treat us like family. That’s what I saw, honestly, when I was detained. The support came from this big family, which is my community that I’ve been singing for.