Fernando is planning a dangerous illegal escape from Tijuana into the United States. Tonight, he tells us, he’s going to swim across the border beyond the search lights, risking hypothermia and his life. A few days before, another migrant tried and drowned. It’s a gamble, but he thinks it’s his only chance to reach his pregnant wife in San Diego. On this side of the border, we met many migrants like Fernando who were growing more desperate by the day. Gang violence makes Honduras, Guatemala and El Salvador have some of the highest homicide rates in the world. So in October, a caravan of close to 7,000 people fled Honduras and traveled north, finding safety in numbers. Migrants from other Central American countries joined along the way. The sheer size of the caravan drew attention to the migrants’ plight, but it also turned them into a political target. “Drug cartels, traffickers, smugglers —” “Hezbollah, Al Qaeda, ISIS —” “Covered in MS-13 tattoos.” “It’s like an invasion.” They covered over 2,000 miles to reach the border. Yet it’s here, within sight of American soil, that their dreams feel far away. There’s a wall covering this part of the border. U.S. agents patrol the area, and seeking asylum is a long and uncertain process. What we see are people wrestling with a set of tough choices, risking deportation, detention and death. Tijuana faces challenges that are typical of border cities: cartels, violence and trafficking. 2018 saw record homicides with nearly seven people killed here every day. Margarito is a Mexican news photographer documenting murder scenes and live-streaming the aftermath. Last month, two migrants were murdered, their naked bodies left on the street. The legal path to asylum in the U.S. begins here, with migrants waiting for their assigned numbers to be called off a list. Only then are they permitted across the border to make their case. Jaeme is number 1,681. She left her two sons behind in Guatemala. She’s been waiting nearly a month, and is hopeful now that her turn is coming up. But it’s making her anxious. If her claim is rejected, she’ll be deported back to Guatemala. That fear has her thinking about slipping illegally across the border, an idea that she keeps from her family. As we travel away from the border, we meet migrants who are coming to terms with a new reality: remaining here in Mexico, indefinitely. This is Tijuana’s biggest shelter, an old rodeo stadium that’s quickly filled up. Maria came from El Salvador with her family. She’s given up on waiting at the border. And now, she’s considering applying for a visa to work in Mexico. Others have given up altogether. Hundreds have already left Tijuana, regularly heading back home on buses paid for by the Mexican government. To push on, to stay or to leave. The outcomes of these choices are equally uncertain. Many of the migrants told us they are leaving their fate in the hands of God. Fernando didn’t make his swim. He backed down, at least for now.