(STATE COLLEGE, PENNSYLVANIA) Two U.S. courts have halted the immediate deportation of Subramanyam “Subu” Vedam, a 64-year-old Indian-origin lawful permanent resident who spent more than four decades in prison for a murder he has always said he did not commit. The stays came in October, weeks after a Pennsylvania judge vacated Vedam’s 1983 murder conviction, clearing the way for his release only for immigration authorities to move to remove him to India under a decades-old order tied to an old drug case. The twin rulings keep him in the United States while his lawyers fight to reopen his immigration case and argue that deportation would compound what they call a lifetime of injustice.
An immigration judge issued a stay of deportation while a motion to reopen is pending before the Board of Immigration Appeals, according to filings described by his legal team. At the same time, a U.S. District Court in Pennsylvania granted a parallel stay, citing the “untenable injustice” of deporting a man who spent his adult life incarcerated for a wrongful conviction. Together, the stays pause the government’s effort to remove Vedam to India, a country he left as an infant and where he has never lived as an adult.

Vedam grew up in State College, Pennsylvania, after arriving in the United States from India at nine months old. His father worked as a faculty member at Pennsylvania State University, and the family made a life in this college town. In 1982, when he was 20, he was arrested for the murder of his friend, Thomas Kinser. A jury convicted him in 1983, and a judge sentenced him to life without parole. There were no eyewitnesses, no motive, and, his supporters argued for years, no direct evidence tying him to the crime. He would spend the next 43 years in maximum-security prisons across Pennsylvania.
New evidence began to surface in recent years. In 2022, defense lawyers obtained documents indicating prosecutors had concealed material that pointed away from Vedam. Forensic experts later testified that the bullet wound in Kinser’s skull could not have been made by the gun prosecutors had linked to Vedam at trial. On August 28, 2025, Centre County Judge Jonathan D. Grine vacated the conviction, ruling that the concealed evidence violated Vedam’s constitutional rights and undercut the theory that had sent him to prison as a young man. The court’s decision set the stage for Vedam to walk free for the first time since the early 1980s.
As his family prepared to bring him home, federal immigration agents moved in. On October 3, 2025, immediately after he was processed for release from state custody, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement took him into custody under a long-standing deportation order linked to a no-contest plea to LSD delivery charges from the early 1980s. His lawyers say the plea, entered in the shadow of a looming murder trial at the time, was minor compared to the overturned homicide case and should be weighed against the reality that he has lived in the United States since infancy and lost his adult life to a wrongful conviction.
ICE argues the vacated murder conviction does not erase the separate basis for deportation. Tricia McLaughlin, Assistant Secretary for Public Affairs at the Department of Homeland Security, said:
“Having a single conviction vacated will not stop ICE’s enforcement of the federal immigration law.”
The agency maintains that the old drug plea and the prior deportation order remain valid and that the government is obligated to carry out the law as written.
Vedam’s family sees it differently. His sister, Saraswathi Vedam, a midwifery professor in Vancouver, said:
“We’re also hopeful that Board of Immigration Appeals will ultimately agree that Subu’s deportation would represent another untenable injustice, inflicted on a man who not only endured 43 years in a maximum-security prison for a crime he didn’t commit, but has also lived in the U.S. since he was 9-months-old.”
She said the family had been ready with clothes, food, and a place to stay in State College when they learned he would not be coming home.
The human toll was evident when he was briefly released from state custody. Supporters described him as “thin, white-haired,” a man in his mid-60s with a quiet demeanor after decades behind bars. His family says he remains deeply connected to the United States—his schools, his friends, and the community that rallied around his case. More than 200 supporters attended a July 2024 hearing in Centre County, according to people who were present, pressing officials to review the prosecution’s files and test the ballistics that ultimately undermined the state’s case.
Immigration lawyer Ava Benach said the stakes go beyond one man’s fate.
“He was someone who’s suffered a profound injustice… those 43 years aren’t a blank slate. He lived a remarkable experience in prison,” Benach said, arguing that immigration law should allow adjudicators to consider the reality of wrongful incarceration when weighing old offenses.
In Vedam’s case, his attorneys have asked the Board of Immigration Appeals to reopen the deportation proceedings, cancel the removal order, and allow him to remain where he has lived since before his first birthday.
The case lays bare the collision between two systems that often move on different tracks: criminal courts that can revisit wrongful convictions decades later, and immigration authorities bound to act on older deportation orders unless a higher body instructs them to stop. The court-ordered stays give Vedam’s team time to seek that relief. A motion to reopen asks the Board to accept new facts or legal arguments and to reconsider past decisions in light of changed circumstances—here, the vacated murder conviction and the long record of incarceration that lawyers say should make deportation unthinkable. The Executive Office for Immigration Review – Board of Immigration Appeals reviews such motions and can take months to decide.
For Vedam, the timeline is stark. He was arrested in 1982 at age 20. Convicted in 1983, he entered prison with a life sentence and no parole. Across 43 years in custody, his supporters say, he was a model inmate who pursued education programs and kept to himself. In 2022, his case began to shift as evidence of suppressed material came to light. In February 2025, forensic experts challenged the key ballistics claim that had anchored the state’s theory. On August 28, 2025, Judge Grine vacated the conviction. On October 3, 2025, as his family waited, ICE agents transferred him to federal custody under the old deportation order. He is now being held at a short-term ICE holding center in Alexandria, Louisiana, a facility equipped with an airstrip used for deportation flights.
To the Indian diaspora in the United States 🇺🇸 and Canada 🇨🇦, the case resonates for its stark message about the fragility of status and the long reach of old criminal records. Many Indian-origin families include lawful permanent residents who have lived decades in the U.S., built careers, and raised children. Community groups and lawyers following the case say Vedam’s predicament shows how a wrongful conviction can warp a life not only in prison but long after release, creating new risks in the immigration system that can surface without warning. In this instance, the drug conviction—dormant for years while he served time—became the government’s central lever once the murder case collapsed.
The words used by the federal judge in granting the parallel stay—“untenable injustice”—echo language used by Vedam’s family and advocates. They argue that deportation would sever him from the only country he knows, place him in a land he left as a baby, and punish him for a youthful plea that would likely be viewed differently by modern prosecutors. They also note that his father’s career at Penn State and the family’s long residence in State College underscore ties that immigration law is supposed to recognize when balancing equities in deportation cases.
ICE officials, for their part, have emphasized that immigration enforcement does not hinge on sympathy. Tricia McLaughlin said:
“Having a single conviction vacated will not stop ICE’s enforcement of the federal immigration law,”
underscoring a point that attorneys who practice in this area repeat: when a noncitizen has a deportation order, the government will generally execute it unless a court intervenes. That is what the stays now do—temporarily—but they are not a final answer. If the Board declines to reopen the case, the immigration judge’s stay could lift, and the district court’s order could be revisited or expire.
Lawyers for Vedam contend that the Board should view the decades-old drug plea through the lens of what came after: 43 years of imprisonment for a crime the courts say should not have led to a conviction. They argue that his permanent resident status, his deep roots in Pennsylvania, and the extraordinary weight of his wrongful incarceration justify relief that would let him remain in the U.S. without fear of deportation. They have asked the Board to consider that he has no recent criminal history beyond the voided murder case, and that his return to community life would be under the watch of a family ready to provide housing, healthcare, and support.
The case has also spurred talk among Indian consulates and diaspora organizations about outreach to long-term permanent residents who may have old criminal records, even minor ones. Advocates say many people do not realize how immigration law treats historical pleas, especially those taken decades ago under different charging practices. In Vedam’s situation, the plea to LSD delivery in the early 1980s—separate from the homicide—now acts as the legal hook for removal. Lawyers say the tension between that record and his overturned murder conviction presents a test of whether the system can account for such unusual facts.
On the ground in State College, reactions mix relief and anxiety. Friends and neighbors who followed the case expressed gratitude that he will not be deported immediately, but they also worry about the next steps. Some recall the outpouring at a July 2024 court hearing, when more than 200 people packed the room, a measure of the local attention on a case once known mainly in legal filings. His sister said the family’s focus is on keeping him in the United States and getting him medical care and stability after decades behind bars.
Immigration timelines can stretch. Motions to reopen before the Board can take months, and the government’s position may not shift even if criminal records change. In the meantime, Vedam remains in Louisiana, far from the central Pennsylvania town that shaped his life. His lawyers have asked ICE to consider releasing him from detention while the legal process unfolds, noting his age, health after decades in prison, and strong community support. ICE has not announced a decision on custody. If released, he would return to his family’s care while the case proceeds; if not, he could remain at the Alexandria holding center until the Board rules.
For now, what keeps him here are the stays. They are legal pauses, not resolutions, and they can be lifted. But for a man who spent 43 years in a cell, they offer time—time for judges to review a record that spans from a 1982 arrest to a 2025 courtroom where a conviction fell apart under scrutiny. His supporters say that after so many years, due process should not be rushed. His critics say the law is the law, and an old deportation order cannot be wished away because another conviction was vacated.
The next decision rests with the Board of Immigration Appeals. If it agrees to reopen the case, Vedam’s lawyers will argue for relief that would cancel the deportation order and recognize his long residence and wrongful incarceration as extraordinary factors. If the Board declines, they can ask the federal courts to intervene again, but success is far from assured. Between those possibilities lies a family waiting in State College, a man in detention in Louisiana, and a legal system trying to reconcile wrongful imprisonment with rigid immigration rules.
In that uncertain space, the words of supporters and officials sit in sharp contrast.
“He was someone who’s suffered a profound injustice… those 43 years aren’t a blank slate. He lived a remarkable experience in prison,” Benach said.
The government responds with its own clarity:
“Having a single conviction vacated will not stop ICE’s enforcement of the federal immigration law.”
And his sister, speaking for a family that has waited decades for his return, said:
“We’re also hopeful that Board of Immigration Appeals will ultimately agree that Subu’s deportation would represent another untenable injustice, inflicted on a man who not only endured 43 years in a maximum-security prison for a crime he didn’t commit, but has also lived in the U.S. since he was 9-months-old.”
This Article in a Nutshell
Two U.S. courts granted parallel stays in October preventing immediate deportation of Subramanyam Vedam, whose 1983 murder conviction was vacated August 28, 2025, after new ballistics and evidence of prosecutorial concealment. Vedam, a lawful permanent resident who came to the U.S. as an infant, spent 43 years incarcerated and was taken into ICE custody October 3 under a decades-old deportation order tied to an LSD plea. His lawyers have filed a motion to reopen before the Board of Immigration Appeals; the BIA’s decision will determine whether the removal order is canceled or returns to effect.