ICE Claims Visa Expired; Diocese Says Priest Had Legal Work Permit

(TEXAS, UNITED STATES) A Kenyan priest who ministers in Texas has been in U.S. immigration custody since October 25, 2025, after federal authorities said his permission to stay in the country had lapsed, a claim his church flatly denies. U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement says Rev. James Eliud Ngahu Mwangi was “in the country without permission after overstaying a visa,” while the Episcopal Diocese of Texas insists he had a valid work permit and was lawfully employed by the Texas Department of Criminal Justice at the time of his Texas detention.

Rev. Mwangi was taken into custody while returning home from his job with the Texas Department of Criminal Justice, the diocese said. Family members did not know where he was for several days, according to diocesan officials, before confirming he had been transferred to an immigration detention center in Conroe, Texas, and had spoken with loved ones. The case has quickly widened beyond a dispute over paperwork into a test of how immigration enforcement treats foreign-born clergy who live and work publicly in state institutions, and whether a worker’s current authorization is enough to shield them when older visa records raise questions about status or a visa overstayed allegation.

The Episcopal Diocese of Texas says the facts are not in doubt from its perspective: Rev. Mwangi

“has lived and worked lawfully in Texas” and possessed a legal work permit when ICE agents stopped him.
The attribution for that quote came from diocesan officials.

“This priest has served both the Church and the State of Texas faithfully. We are praying for his safety, for his family’s peace of mind, and for fair and humane treatment as this case moves forward,” said the Rt. Rev. C. Andrew Doyle, IX Bishop of Texas.
In a separate statement underscoring its stance, the diocese said it is coordinating with counsel to document his employment and immigration records and to seek release pending any proceedings. The family’s ability to talk with him after his transfer to Conroe has provided some reassurance, but church leaders said they still do not know when he might appear before an immigration judge or what bond options, if any, might be available.

ICE, for its part, has not described any criminal allegations. An agency spokesperson said simply that Mwangi was “in the country without permission after overstaying a visa,” a phrase that suggests the government views a past visa category as controlling, regardless of current employment or federal work authorization. The agency typically points to statutory mandates to detain noncitizens who lack legal immigration status, though decisions can vary case by case. ICE did not answer questions from church officials about how the arrest unfolded or why a priest with a current work permit was targeted, the diocese said. As of November 6, 2025, diocesan leaders said it remained unclear why he was detained or what documents ICE is relying on to justify the custody.

The uncertainty has weighed heavily on his family and parish community. For several days after the arrest, relatives searched for answers before learning of the transfer to Conroe, a city north of Houston. Once he was located, the family spoke with him and relayed that he was safe. The diocese has arranged legal counsel and pastoral care and is pressing for “transparency, due process, and respect for all individuals working legally in public service,” arguing that the case should be resolved quickly if his current authorization is in order. Supporters who know him as Mwangi Mwangi (Rev. James Eliud Ngahu Mwangi) have rallied around the family, sharing the church’s statements widely and asking state officials to confirm his employment history with the Texas Department of Criminal Justice.

The arrest highlights a brewing conflict between on-the-ground enforcement and the everyday lives of religious workers in the United States. Many serve in visible roles—leading services, teaching, and, as in this case, taking staff positions in public agencies—while navigating a maze of visas and work permits that can stretch for years. Bishop Joseph J. Tyson of the Diocese of Yakima described the strain across faith communities as they try to keep clergy in lawful status despite slow-moving immigration queues and rule changes.

“I know how hard it is to keep my priests and my seminarians in status. I can only imagine what it’s like for parishioners who don’t have a fleet of lawyers,” he said.
Church immigration advocates say these cases often turn on technical questions that are difficult for nonlawyers to anticipate, especially when multiple applications and renewals overlap.

Miguel Naranjo, who directs religious immigration services at the Catholic Legal Immigration Network, Inc. (CLINIC), said enforcement practices have also shifted the calculus for clergy and congregations.

“With the end of the protected locations policy, we have seen growing fear in immigrant communities about ICE presence in houses of worship—and even greater risks to the religious workers themselves. Many now carry proof of status at all times, aware of the heightened enforcement climate,” he said.
For many priests, ministers, and lay religious workers, that has meant traveling with files that include work permits, approval notices, and copies of pending applications in case an officer questions their status at a traffic stop or outside a workplace.

In Texas, the optics of a state-employed priest being detained on his way home from work have stirred questions beyond church circles. The Texas Department of Criminal Justice has not publicly commented on the case, but the diocese emphasized that Rev. Mwangi held a legal work permit and was lawfully employed by the agency. The diocese said it is coordinating with counsel to document his employment and immigration records and to seek release pending any proceedings. The family’s ability to talk with him after his transfer to Conroe has provided some reassurance, but church leaders said they still do not know when he might appear before an immigration judge or what bond options, if any, might be available.

The public dispute also underscores a legal fine point that often confuses nonlawyers: a person may hold a current work permit authorized by the federal government while still facing questions about a prior visa category that has expired. Work permits, formally called employment authorization documents, are granted for specific reasons and timeframes. When an agency like ICE alleges “overstaying a visa,” it is usually referring to the expiration of a particular nonimmigrant status in the past. Whether a later work permit changes that picture can be contested, and those clashes sometimes end up before immigration judges or the Board of Immigration Appeals. ICE’s Enforcement and Removal Operations division oversees such custody decisions and removals; information about its detention operations is available on the ICE Enforcement and Removal Operations page.

Religious leaders say the policy backdrop is increasingly precarious. Catholic and Episcopal advocates are urging Congress to approve the Religious Workforce Protection Act, legislation they say would let religious workers with pending green card applications stay in the country while their cases are decided. The goal, they argue, is to reduce the risk that minor status gaps turn into detentions, particularly in regions where visa backlogs stretch timelines and an administrative delay can cascade into an enforcement action. Backers frame it as a targeted fix for a discrete workforce that serves congregations and charities across the country. Opponents have not been vocal in this case, but enforcement-first lawmakers often argue that any carve-outs create loopholes and undermine the uniform application of immigration law. More information about the proposal is available at the Religious Workforce Protection Act legislative page.

For now, the conflict around Rev. Mwangi’s custody is a microcosm of those larger tensions. The diocese says he followed the rules, obtained a legal work permit, and took a lawful job serving the State of Texas. ICE says that background does not resolve the allegation that he was “in the country without permission after overstaying a visa.” How the agency and the immigration courts reconcile those positions will determine whether he is released to continue his ministry and state work or remains in custody while the case proceeds. It may also signal how aggressively the government will pursue similar cases involving clergy and other public-facing religious workers.

Advocates for immigrant clergy say that ICE’s posture has already changed behavior in faith communities. Naranjo’s observation about the end of the “protected locations policy” reflects a broader concern that the spaces once thought to be safe—churches, schools, hospitals—no longer carry the same informal protections they did in prior years. While formal policies can change with administrations, those who counsel religious workers say the practical response has been to minimize risk: avoid driving alone late at night, keep identification and work documents handy, and ensure an attorney can be reached quickly if stopped. That advice is now echoing in congregations across Texas following the arrest of a priest who, by the diocese’s account, did everything the system asked.

Bishop Doyle’s statement sought to center the human cost as the legal process grinds forward.

“This priest has served both the Church and the State of Texas faithfully,” he said, repeating the diocese’s view that public service should not expose law-abiding workers to sudden custody.
The church’s call for “transparency, due process, and respect for all individuals working legally in public service” is aimed at both ICE and lawmakers, signaling that the case is as much about fairness and clarity as it is about one man’s file. For parishioners who know him as Mwangi Mwangi (Rev. James Eliud Ngahu Mwangi), the debate in Washington is remote; what matters now is when he will come home.

The Conroe detention center, where the family says he is held, is one of several facilities in Texas where noncitizens await immigration proceedings. People can remain there for weeks or months, depending on court schedules and whether release is granted. In most cases, attorneys seek to show ties to the community, steady employment, and a lack of flight risk. The diocese did not disclose the specific legal steps it has taken, but said its counsel is working to clarify his status and secure his release. Church officials also declined to share additional family details, citing privacy and safety concerns amid heightened attention on the case.

Policy advocates watching the case say its outcome could help shape how clergy prepare for encounters with immigration authorities. If the court weighs a current work permit heavily, that could reassure religious workers whose visa histories are complex but who hold valid employment authorization. If the decision turns on a strict reading of a past “visa overstayed” period, it may push more religious organizations to invest in legal support long before any trouble arises, echoing Bishop Tyson’s lament:

“I know how hard it is to keep my priests and my seminarians in status. I can only imagine what it’s like for parishioners who don’t have a fleet of lawyers.”

As of November 6, 2025, the Episcopal Diocese of Texas said it still had no clear answer from ICE about the basis for the detention beyond the agency’s brief statement. The church has asked supporters to keep the family in their thoughts and to refrain from speculation while attorneys work. ICE, which rarely comments on individual cases beyond basic status information, has not provided a timeline for any hearing. In the meantime, the man at the center of it all—Rev. James Eliud Ngahu Mwangi—remains in custody, a priest whose ministry and public service now hinge on how the government resolves a dispute over whether he had permission to live and work here, or whether, as ICE maintains, he was “in the country without permission after overstaying a visa.”

For Texas congregations and immigrant communities, the fallout is immediate: more questions about who might be at risk, more files carried in glove compartments, more calls to lawyers. The diocese’s message tries to steady those nerves, insisting that law and compassion can coexist if the process is fair. Whether that promise holds will be tested in the coming days, as attorneys press ICE to release a state-employed priest whom his church says complied with the law—and the government insists did not.