Deported to Panama by U.S., Iranian Christian Convert Finds Asylum in Canada

Artemis Ghasemzadeh became the public face of migrants expelled by the United States to Panama. She was confined in a hotel, transferred to a detention camp in the Darién jungle, and left stranded in a country whose language she did not speak. Her ordeal later inspired legislation in Congress aimed at shielding asylum seekers from similar summary removals.

The 28-year-old Iranian Christian convert has now found a permanent home in Canada. In June, the Canadian government granted her asylum, providing a hopeful conclusion to a nearly two-year odyssey that began with religious persecution in Iran and ended with her entanglement in a U.S. immigration crackdown.

Ghasemzadeh arrived on Denman Island, near Vancouver, in early July with little more than her clothing. Yet she described her heart as full of gratitude and hope for a fresh start.

“I’m still kind of in shock. I can’t believe I’m really here and this is not a dream,” Ghasemzadeh said in a telephone interview. “I can finally say the struggle is over.”

Her journey began when she fled Iran for Mexico with her brother, Shahin, also a Christian convert. After entering the United States by crossing the southern border wall, the siblings were apprehended by Border Patrol and separated in detention facilities. In a first-of-its-kind operation, U.S. authorities shackled Ghasemzadeh and placed her on a military flight to Panama—a “third-country” deportation to a nation where she held no citizenship. The policy has since expanded to at least 18 countries, even as the administration simultaneously negotiated direct deportation flights to Iran despite the regime’s persecution of converts.

For Ghasemzadeh, the prospect of return to Iran was existential. Iranian law treats apostasy from Islam as blasphemy punishable by death; while recognized Christian minorities may worship openly, converts are forced into underground churches to avoid arrest.

“I wanted to live freely, to live without fear, to live without someone wanting to kill me,” she said in a previous interview.

Upon arrival in Panama, authorities locked the deportees in a Panama City hotel before transporting them under cover of darkness to a migrant camp in the Darién Gap, where they were held for weeks. Ghasemzadeh emerged as a crucial witness, smuggling out a cellphone to document conditions in a viral video and providing updates to The New York Times. The resulting attention drew Christian advocacy groups and human rights activists, prompting a team of prominent immigration lawyers to take the case pro bono and secure the group’s release from the jungle facility.

Facing lawsuits and international condemnation, Panama issued the deportees 90-day humanitarian visas. While many departed, Ghasemzadeh remained, pursuing a legal pathway to North America in hopes of reuniting with her brother, who had been granted asylum in the United States and now resides in Texas.

In May, Representative Yassamin Ansari, an Iranian American Democrat from Arizona, introduced the Artemis Act. The bill sought to block the expedited removal of individuals fleeing countries designated by the State Department as persecutors of religious minorities, guaranteeing them a chance to claim asylum in U.S. immigration court. The measure garnered broad Democratic support but stalled amid Republican opposition in the House majority.

Legal counsel advised Ghasemzadeh that the odds of the U.S. reversing her deportation were slim given the political climate. Seeking refuge in Canada presented its own hurdles: strict refugee quotas and a requirement for a Canadian citizen sponsor—connections she lacked.

In the interim, she built a life in Panama City, finding a church community, learning Spanish, and working as a dental hygienist.

A turning point arrived when Ian and Naomi Elliot, a retired couple on Denman Island active in Afghan refugee resettlement, read a profile of Ghasemzadeh in The Times. Moved by her story, they resolved to sponsor her.

“I couldn’t sleep after reading the article. I thought this is a Christian sister who shares our faith and is paying a massive price for this belief,” said Ian Elliot, 68, a community leader at their island church.

The Elliots embarked on a months-long bureaucratic marathon, coordinating with Canadian officials, refugee agencies, and lawyers across three countries. Yet every avenue was blocked by Canada’s filled quota for privately sponsored refugees and extensive waitlists.

Then, shortly before Christmas, a breakthrough came. City of Refuge, an agency specializing in resettling persecuted Christians, informed Elliot of a sudden cancellation and offered the spot to Ghasemzadeh. The agency allowed 48 hours to file paperwork, secure a church sponsor, and deposit $25,000. The first two conditions were met swiftly; the financial hurdle was cleared when an American attorney in Texas—who had assisted Ghasemzadeh’s brother but had never met the Elliots—wired the required funds.

Ghasemzadeh had only days to prepare for departure.

“The first thing I thought was that I don’t have to worry about getting displaced again,” she recalled. “I can finally get my own place and not live in shelters. I want to go to university and study dental hygiene or dentistry, and then travel freely without fear.”

On Denman Island, the Elliots readied her bedroom with a desk, chair, mirror, green plant, and fresh linens, even purchasing a bathing suit for the island summer.

“Big hearts make a huge difference. It all worked out like a miracle,” said Naomi Elliot, 65, whose own family survived the Holocaust in Europe before finding sanctuary in Canada.

On arrival day, Ian Elliot and friends drove to the airport with flowers, gifts, and bilingual welcome signs, while Naomi prepared a feast at home. When Ghasemzadeh appeared, she ran to Ian Elliot and embraced him tightly.

“Thank you for saving my life,” she told him. They both wept.

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