Christian converts deported to Iran by US

On a Monday in mid-October, a year into U.S. immigration detention, police showed up unannounced at Majid’s cell in Texas.

They just told him to “pack his bags” — he was being transferred — even though an immigration judge had granted him protection from deportation five months earlier. He was shackled at his wrists, waist and ankles and flown overnight to a military airfield in Louisiana.

Majeed (pseudonym) fled Iran for the United States in October 2024 after being repeatedly detained and allegedly tortured, first for his involvement in the Mahsa Amini protests and later for his conversion to Christianity.

When U.S. officials forced him onto a plane carrying more than 150 deportees to Managua, Nicaragua, he remembers being the only non-Latin American on the plane. Hours later, the plane landed and officials handcuffed him, denied his asylum request and directed him to Iran through Venezuela and Turkey — a journey he interpreted as a forced return.

Majid was later able to hide in Istanbul because he was afraid of what would happen if he returned to Iran. He was one of several Iranian Christian converts interviewed by the BBC – most on condition of anonymity out of fear for relatives back home – who had their asylum claims rejected over the past year. Their claims point to inconsistencies in the way U.S. authorities assess risks to Iranian returnees and handle sensitive religious information in asylum documents.

Their experiences also contrast with other elements of U.S. foreign policy, with President Trump publicly bemoaning the plight of Christians being persecuted abroad and threatening to send troops to Nigeria “with guns blazing” if the country’s government “continues to allow the killing of Christians.”

A White House official told the BBC that all those deported had their asylum claims fully adjudicated before being deported. The official said the latest deportations to Iran involved people with final deportation orders or requests for voluntary departure. Strict confidentiality rules prevent officials from revealing whether someone has applied for asylum and been rejected, they added.

As the United States continues its crackdown on illegal immigration, its policy toward Iranian asylum seekers has undergone unprecedented changes. In late September, authorities arranged a charter flight to Iran via Qatar – the first such charter in decades, given the lack of diplomatic ties between the two countries and Iran’s human rights record. The flight was an unusual example of cooperation between Iran and the United States.

Dozens of Iranians were placed on the plane, reportedly wearing shackles. One deportee, Xina, later described armed guards escorting passengers on the Qatar-Tehran route. Upon arrival, they were questioned about their time in the United States and religious activities, but were not immediately arrested, he said in a video posted on his Farsi-language YouTube channel.

Among the passengers was Ali’s wife, a Christian convert from Iran who now lives in the United States. She has since been contacted and summoned by Iranian intelligence services.

“They deported my wife back to Iran even though she was a Christian,” said Ali, who has been given a pseudonym by the BBC to protect his and his wife’s identities. “Now Iranian intelligence is after her and me.”

For Ali’s wife and others, the danger was heightened by what their lawyers said was a critical mistake.

Ali Herischi, an attorney who represents Ali, his wife and another deportee from the September flight, said some clients reported that sensitive information — including statements about religious conversions, political activities and reasons for seeking asylum — was not removed before deportation.

Converts to Islam make up a large portion of Iran’s 800,000 Christian population, said Steve Dew-Jones of Article 18, a U.K.-based advocacy group that monitors abuses against Christians in the country.

Due to strict restrictions on officially recognized churches, house church have begun popping up across the country. But Du Jones said practitioners continue to face persecution.

Conversion to Islam is considered apostasy and converts face arrest, interrogation and imprisonment.

The Center for Human Rights in Iran reported that arrests increased sixfold between 2023 and 2024. “Since the recent Iran-Israel conflict, we have seen authorities use the term ‘Zionist Christianity’ more aggressively. By labeling converts as agents of Israel, the state treats ordinary religious practices as a national security threat,” DuJones added.

Some Iranians seeking asylum abroad include conversion as part of their applications, and Iranian officials accuse them of exaggerating or fabricating conversions to strengthen their cases.

But it’s unclear how many U.S. asylum cases may be exaggerated rather than genuine fears of persecution.

“It’s impossible to judge the sincerity of a person’s beliefs — there’s no window into people’s souls,” DuJones said. “Yes, the system can be abused, but we also see many legitimate converts whose testimonies and church records are not taken seriously by asylum courts.”

Iranian asylum seekers and legal experts say asylum outcomes can vary widely even within a family.

In late June, ICE officers arrived at Marian and Reza’s Los Angeles home. In the video shot by their pastor, Marian can be seen lying outside as agents detained her husband. Not long ago, she called him to ask for help. The couple, both Christian converts from Iran who had applied for asylum in the United States, were taken to separate detention centers. Weeks later, their cases split: Marian was granted asylum in California, while Reza, who was being held in New Mexico, was ordered to be transferred to a third country.

After the arrests in June, the Department of Homeland Security said on its

Pastor Ara Torosian, who filmed their arrest, disputed the Department of Homeland Security’s assertion that the couple was in the United States illegally.

He said they entered the country legally through a humanitarian program and had work permits. “How is it possible that there is danger for the wife but not for the husband?” asked the pastor Ara Torosian, who fled Iran in 2010 after being detained for smuggling Bibles.

Majid managed to slip into a Turkish airport and has been living in limbo ever since while his lawyers pursued his case. His wife, whose asylum application is pending, now lives in Los Angeles with their 1.5-year-old daughter, who has never met her father.

In the United States, Ali lives with a friend from his church and hopes his asylum claim will be more successful than that of his wife, who was deported to Iran this year.

“If they grant me asylum, my wife is in Iran, how can I stay here? If they deport me, I could go to jail as soon as I land.”

Unable to legally work or open a bank account. He first lived with a distant relative “until my wife’s case was resolved,” but she was never released and was deported after nearly a year in detention. A small church later provided him with temporary shelter.

“Whenever they asked me to leave, I had to sleep in the park,” he said.

He is awaiting an immigration hearing with no good outcome in sight. His wife once again received a subpoena from Iranian intelligence.

“If they arrest her and demand my return,” he said quietly, “I will have no choice.”