Hondurans Hernan Bonilla, left, and Miguel Olivas look over at U.S. agents warning them to move back toward Nuevo Laredo, Mexico. (Don Bartletti / Los Angeles Times)
Enrique washes a car in Nuevo Laredo, Mexico. Having lost his mother’s phone number during a beating by train bandits, he need to earn 100 pesos to call Honduras to get it. (Don Bartletti / Los Angeles Times)
Enrique holding a meal card, waits to eat at Parroquia del Santo Niño in Nuevo Laredo, one of two churches that fed him. (Don Bartletti / Los Angeles Times)
Migrants bow their heads at Parroquia de San Jose while grace is said. (Don Bartletti / Los Angeles Times)
Enrique sleeps in an abandoned house on his way back to camp after a night of washing cars. He hoped to buy a phone card to call an old boss in Honduras. If his boss could reach his aunt and uncle, and if they knew his mother’s number, and if they would call him back... (Don Bartletti / Los Angeles Times)
After earning enough for a second phone card, Enrique got a tattoo of his and his mother’s names. (Don Bartletti / Los Angeles Times)
Enrique, foreground, at his encampment along the Rio Grande. His companions there called him El Hongo, the mushroom, because he was quiet. Some talked about the poverty they came from and how they would rather die than go back. (Don Bartletti / Los Angeles Times)
At this phone booth in a Nuevo Laredo park, Enrique pulled a scrap of paper from his jeans and carefully unfolded it. Then he dialed his mother’s number. (Don Bartletti / Los Angeles Times)
