US detains Iranian-American family over mother-in-law's 1979 hostage crisis role

A family of three permanent US residents—including a teenager and a university professor—have been detained for four months in separate facilities, with documented deterioration of physical and mental health.
Our lives are being upended for something someone else did nearly 50 years ago
Tahmasebi describes the revocation of her family's green cards based on her husband's mother's 1979 role in the Iran hostage crisis.
Mark

Why would the government block a family from leaving if they wanted to go?

Mimi

That's the question that troubles their lawyers most. If national security were truly the concern, voluntary departure would solve it. Instead, the government insisted they stay detained.

Mark

Could there be something about the husband we don't know?

Mimi

Possibly. But his legal team points out the government has never charged him, never presented evidence, never even formally alleged he did anything wrong. He's detained for who his mother was.

Mark

His mother held a government position recently. Wasn't she still connected to Iran?

Mimi

She was vice president for women and family affairs until 2021. But the government's stated reason for the revocation focuses on her 1979 role—the hostage crisis. That's what they keep returning to.

Mark

So they're punishing him for being born to her?

Mimi

That's how Tahmasebi frames it. She calls it bloodline punishment. The son was born decades after the hostage crisis. He had no choice in who his grandmother was.

Mark

When did this enforcement action actually start?

Mimi

An online petition in January 2026 called for the husband's deportation. Conservative outlets reported from outside his home in April. Days later, the Secretary of State announced the revocation. The timing suggests the campaign worked.

Mark

What happens to them now?

Mimi

They remain detained. The government rejected their request to leave voluntarily. Their lawyers are fighting the revocation, but there's no clear timeline. They could be deported, or they could remain in detention indefinitely.

  • A family who built a quiet, lawful life in Los Angeles for over a decade was swept into detention in April 2026, with no charges filed and no evidence of wrongdoing presented against any of them.
  • The government's justification reaches back nearly fifty years to the actions of the husband's mother—a woman who was a spokesperson during the 1979 Tehran hostage crisis, before her son was even born.
  • The revocation of their green cards followed an online petition and conservative media pressure by mere days, raising urgent questions about whether political momentum, not legal process, drove the decision.
  • Detained in separate facilities and denied the right to simply leave the country, the family describes irreversible deterioration of their health—trapped in a legal limbo with no clear path forward.
  • Their lawyers report that no US agency has produced a single piece of evidence linking the family to any national security threat, yet the government continues to withhold its reasoning behind claims of classified information.

In the summer of 2026, a family of Iranian-American permanent residents—a psychology professor, her academic husband, and their teenage son—found themselves detained in separate Texas facilities, their legal status revoked not for anything they had done, but for what the husband's mother did nearly half a century ago during the 1979 Iran hostage crisis. The United States government, offering no formal charges and no specific evidence, cited national security while blocking even the family's request to leave voluntarily. The case raises one of the oldest and most unsettling questions in the human story of justice: how far does the shadow of one person's actions fall, and upon whom does it rightfully land.

Maryam Tahmasebi taught psychology in Los Angeles. Her husband, Seyed Eissa Hashemi, worked in academia. Their teenage son went to school. All three held green cards, having entered the US legally in 2014 and obtained permanent residency in 2016. In April 2026, immigration agents detained all three of them. Four months later, Tahmasebi and her son remain in a detention facility in Dilley, Texas, while her husband is held separately in Pearsall under conditions she describes as horrible.

The government's stated reason reaches back nearly fifty years. Hashemi's mother, Masoumeh Ebtekar, was a spokesperson for the Iranian students who seized the US embassy in Tehran in 1979, holding 52 Americans hostage for 444 days. She later served in the Iranian government, most recently as vice president for women and family affairs until 2021. Hashemi, however, was born after the hostage crisis ended. His wife and son were born in a different country, to different parents, years later.

In July 2026, the State Department revoked the family's green cards, citing national security interests but providing no specifics. When the family's legal team pressed for details, they were told the information was classified. When the family asked to leave the country voluntarily, the Department of Homeland Security refused. The government, it appeared, wanted them to remain detained.

The timing drew scrutiny. An online petition calling for Hashemi's deportation based on his mother's 1979 role circulated in January 2026. Conservative outlets published reports from outside the family's home. Within days, Secretary of State Marco Rubio announced the revocation. The escalation coincided with rising US tensions toward Iran and a broader campaign targeting relatives of Iranian officials living abroad.

Writing from inside her detention facility with limited email access, Tahmasebi described the ordeal in The Nation as 'bloodline punishment.' She had come to America to build a life defined by her own choices, she wrote—not her family's history. Her legal team told the BBC that no US agency has ever presented evidence that the family poses any national security threat, and that the government has had multiple opportunities to do so. A government attorney has suggested the family accept deportation by waiving their right to a hearing. Their lawyers are fighting the revocation. For now, the three of them wait in separate Texas facilities, their future unresolved.

Maryam Tahmasebi is a psychology professor who taught in Los Angeles. Her husband, Seyed Eissa Hashemi, worked in academia. Their teenage son attended school. All three held green cards—permanent resident status in the United States. In April, immigration agents detained all of them. Four months later, Tahmasebi and her son remain locked in a detention center in Dilley, Texas. Her husband is held separately, under what she describes as "horrible conditions," at another facility in Pearsall. The reason for their detention, according to the government, traces back nearly fifty years.

Hashemi's mother is Masoumeh Ebtekar. In 1979, she was a spokesperson for the Iranian students who seized the US embassy in Tehran and held 52 American hostages for 444 days. Ebtekar became known in English-language media as "Screaming Mary" or "Sister Mary" for her statements on behalf of the occupiers. She later held several positions in the Iranian government, most recently as vice president for women and family affairs until 2021. But Hashemi was not born until after the hostage crisis ended. His wife and son were born decades later, in a different country, to different parents.

Yet in July 2026, the US State Department revoked the family's green cards. No formal charges were filed. No evidence of wrongdoing by Tahmasebi, Hashemi, or their son was presented. The government cited national security interests but offered no specifics. When Tahmasebi's legal team asked for details, the State Department refused to provide them, citing protected and classified information. When the family asked to leave voluntarily—to simply depart the country and end the ordeal—the Department of Homeland Security said no. The government wanted them to remain in detention.

The timing is worth noting. In January 2026, an online petition circulated calling for Hashemi's deportation based on his mother's 1979 role. Conservative outlets published reports from outside his home. Within days, Secretary of State Marco Rubio announced the status revocation. The escalation coincided with rising US hostilities toward Iran and a broader campaign by diaspora activists to identify and target relatives of Iranian officials living abroad.

Tahmasebi wrote about the experience in The Nation magazine, writing from inside her detention facility with limited email access. "We have been put through hell for the past four months, and our physical and mental health have deteriorated in ways that might not be reversible for years," she said. She described the logic as "bloodline punishment." She had come to America to build a life defined by her own choices and achievements, not her family's history. "But now our lives are being upended for something someone else did nearly 50 years ago," she wrote.

The family entered the US legally in 2014 on visas and obtained permanent resident status in 2016. They worked, paid taxes, and lived quietly in Los Angeles. Maria Kari, part of their legal team, told the BBC that the government has never charged the family under any national security provision of immigration law. "If the government had any evidence that this family threatened national security, it has had several opportunities to say so but the government has not," Kari said. "In fact, no US government agency has presented any evidence to support their allegations."

The State Department spokesman, Tommy Pigott, declined to explain the decision, saying only that the government retains the right to revoke status for those who "pose a threat to the national security interests of the US." He offered nothing more. The family remains detained. Their request for voluntary departure was denied. A government attorney suggested they might instead enter into what is called a stipulated removal—a process in which they would waive their right to a hearing and accept deportation. The family's lawyers are fighting the revocation, but the outcome remains uncertain. For now, Tahmasebi, Hashemi, and their son wait in separate detention facilities in Texas, their status in limbo, their future undefined.

We have been put through hell for the past four months, and our physical and mental health have deteriorated in ways that might not be reversible for years.
— Maryam Tahmasebi, writing from detention
If the government had any evidence that this family threatened national security, it has had several opportunities to say so but the government has not.
— Maria Kari, member of the family's legal team
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