The Shattered Family: An Absent Father’s Detainment and Betrayal
Seamus Culleton, a 59-year-old Irishman with a life built in Boston, finds himself at the center of a heartbreaking family rift that spans two continents. For nearly five months, he’s been held in an immigration detention facility at a Texas Army base, far from his American wife, Tiffany Smyth, and their three dogs. But what tugs at the heartstrings are the voices of his estranged twin daughters, Heather and Melissa Morrissey, both turning 19 soon. They paint a picture of a man who chose to vanish from their lives long before this detention saga began. In a bold move, they are speaking out not to rally for his release but to push for his deportation back to Ireland, where they argue he belongs to face old drug-related charges. This isn’t just a legal standoff; it’s a tale of abandonment, unanswered calls for support, and the raw pain of children left behind. Heather and Melissa, hoping to reach the public through the Daily Mail, express how compelled they feel to confront their father’s public pleas on RTÉ radio, where he begged Irish authorities to intervene so he could return to his wife and Boston-based construction company. Their story humanizes the cold bureaucracy of immigration, revealing the deeper wounds of a father who, in their eyes, checked out emotionally when they were just toddlers.
As Heather reflects on her childhood, she can’t help but feel the sting of neglect: “I feel that we were born and he just up and left. He did abandon us. That’s what he did.” At 18 months old, the twins were left in the care of their mother, Margaret “Maggie” Morrissey, who raised them single-handedly. No visits, no letters—just silence. Raised in Ireland, Heather and Melissa recount a life without their father’s presence. They never received a single penny in child support, forcing their mother to shoulder the financial and emotional burden. Melissa echoes this sentiment, describing their dad as an absentee figure who seemed to prioritize his new life overseas. The sisters admit to being stunned when they heard his voice on the radio, describing the “torture” of his detention. It was a voice they barely recognized, filled with pleas they saw as insincere. Heather mentions a brief message he sent after asking a relative to prompt him, where he casually said, “He told me that he got detained by ICE… he doesn’t know when he’s going to get out. That was about it. I haven’t heard from him since then.” This indifference fuels their anger, turning a man’s struggle into a mirror of his lifelong distance from his family. They humanize his situation by contrasting it with their own unresolved grief—while he languishes in uncertainty, they grapple with the betrayal of a dad who resurfaced only under duress.
Delving deeper, the twins accuse Culleton of naivety for drawing attention to his case, especially with outstanding warrants in Ireland hanging over his head. “He was making himself out to be a saint, like he’s done nothing wrong,” Heather says, believing he knows full well about the arrests awaiting him. In 2008, back in New Ross, County Wexford, he faced charges for intent to sell or supply drugs, possession for personal use, and obstructing a garda (Irish police officer). A district court issued a bench warrant when he failed to appear, but by then, he’d already fled to the US. The sisters see this as the height of irresponsibility, especially as it now complicates his plea for leniency. Moreover, they’re outraged by a GoFundMe campaign raising nearly $30,000 for his legal fees, calling it “nearly child maintenance money.” Melissa’s words cut deep: it’s not just about cash; it’s about the emotional debt he owes. Similarly, Tiffany Smyth’s TikTok comments, where she expressed wanting her husband back to care for their “babies” (referring to their dogs, Caesar and Cleopatra), rubbed salt in the wound. “They’re dogs. I understand people love animals and all that, but he has children. His dogs aren’t his children,” Heather retorts sharply. This prioritization underscores for the twins a man who has chosen other “family” over his own flesh and blood, making his current suffering feel like karma rather than tragedy.
On the other hand, Culleton’s side of the story paints a man pleading for mercy and family reunion. Arrested on September 9, 2025, by ICE agents while visiting a Home Depot, he claims he had a valid work permit and was in the process of getting a green card. Custody officials dispute this, noting he entered the US in 2009 under the visa waiver program, meant for 90-day stays, but overstayed for over 15 years. In a statement released, DHS spokesperson Tricia McLaughlin confirmed he received due process, leading to a deportation order from a federal judge on September 10, 2025. He was offered immediate removal to Ireland but chose to fight it, opting for ICE custody instead. “He took affirmative steps to remain in detention,” McLaughlin added, framing him as defiant rather than desperate. Culleton, locked up at Fort Bliss, describes his conditions as torturous: a “filthy” room shared with 71 others, minimal food (kid-sized portions leaving everyone hungry), rarely cleaned bathrooms, and scant outside time for fresh air or sunshine. “You don’t know what’s going to happen on a day-to-day basis,” he told Irish media, expressing fears of riots and breakdowns. This daily uncertainty chips away at his mental health, making him long for home. Yet, his daughters see through what they perceive as selective suffering—if he can choose detention over deportation, why couldn’t he choose to be present in their lives?
Legally and emotionally, the case weighs heavy on both sides. Culleton’s detention is part of a broader US immigration crackdown, but his Irish drug warrant adds a layer of justified scrutiny. Politicians back in Ireland, including Taoiseach Leo Varadkar, have vowed to raise complaints with the White House, viewing his treatment as inhumane. They argue that the lack of due process—transferring him 2,000 miles away against his will—violates human rights. This international outcry humanizes the ordeal, transforming a man’s mistake into a global conversation about fairness and family duty. For Heather and Melissa, however, it’s personal: they want justice for the abandonment, not sympathy for his plight. Melissa’s comment about the GoFundMe being like child support highlights a systemic issue—immigration battles often overshadow domestic responsibilities, leaving real victims in the shadows. If he returns to Ireland, they’d finally have a chance to confront the “saint” facade he projected on the radio, but they fear it might not erase the years of absence.
Ultimately, this story is a tapestry of broken bonds, woven from neglect, legal tangles, and human frailty. Seamus Culleton’s path from an overstayed visa to a Texas cell block mirrors countless immigrant tales, but his family’s condemnation adds a poignant reminder of the ripple effects. The twins, now young adults, carry the weight of their father’s choices, turning their hurt into a public narrative that demands accountability. While he languishes in fear, pleading for reunion with his wife and pets, his daughters stand firm: send him home to face his past, where real “babies” waited in vain. Politicians and public alike must grapple with whether mercy should bridge the divide or if abandonment warrants consequences. In humanizing this divide, we see how one man’s pursuit of a new life left shattered lives behind, urging us to consider the unseen costs of starting over. As the case unfolds, perhaps a resolution might mend some wounds, but the scars of abandonment may never fully heal. The Irish twins’ courage in speaking out empowers others in similar situations, transforming pain into purpose and reminding us that justice isn’t just legal—it’s deeply personal.
