Editor's note: Americans have endured economic crises before but none quite like this. To capture the depths of the suffering, The New York Times teamed up with local news organizations across the country, including the Arizona Daily Star, to document the lives of a dozen Americans who found themselves out of work. Find the entire project here.

Losing his job was bad enough. Now he’s worried about being forced out of the country. Nery Martinez, a 43-year-old immigrant from El Salvador, is among 400,000 Nevadans who were laid off when the tourism industry came to a standstill because of casino closures. His wife is also on furlough. We first spoke with Mr. Martinez in July. The interviews were conducted in Spanish and translated into English.

LAS VEGAS — I’ve been working at Caesars Palace for six years. I’m a bartender, unemployed. I’ve been in Las Vegas for over 20 years. We closed March 14, right before they shut down the whole city. That was my last day of work. After that we received a note saying, “We’re going to be closed for a couple weeks,” but we’re still unemployed.

I’m very nervous about being laid off. The federal unemployment benefits will end soon, and missing a single check will be very hard.

We want to find work. The places we’ve visited can’t hire, because they still have furloughed employees waiting in line to get back. Places like restaurants are operating at half capacity, and they won’t hire outsiders.

My kids are worried, too, mainly because of school. How are they going to continue with online learning? How effective is it going to be?

Not only do we have to worry about a job and paying the bills, but we also have to take care of each other, because everything is different. If they don’t call me to work, I don’t know how we’re going to do it.

We saw the news talking about people who are going to lose their homes because of the pandemic. We lost ours because of the recession in 2008.

Where are we going to end up if we can’t pay for the house? We won’t be able to pay for an apartment; it’s the same cost. And with a family of five, I don’t think they’ll fit comfortably in a one-room unit.

My mother still lives in El Salvador. Before the pandemic, it was easy to send her money each month, for food or her medications. Now that we’ve had to tighten our belts, it’s been harder to send her anything.

I’m not used to being at home so long. It’s very hard, especially the first month. I felt restless, I walked around, sat and stood again. I didn’t know what to do. I felt useless.

Sometimes we watch a movie or go outside to play with the kids and our dog. I’m teaching my kids how to drive to pass the time. They, too, get very bored. They’re used to hanging out with friends and cousins, who they now only communicate with through the phone. I see them, and sometimes they just sit there, staring.

September: ‘Waiting blindly’

We are struggling to pay our bills, but thank God our health hasn’t suffered. The bar I worked at hasn’t reopened, unfortunately. We’re waiting blindly.

Sometimes one feels afflicted, desperate, because we want to work. We don’t want unemployment benefits, free money for no work. We want to feel useful. At the beginning of the pandemic, I thought we would face things as they came, but there have been some stressful weeks, such as when the additional $600 federal unemployment benefits ran out. You begin to wonder how you’re going to afford rent and electricity. There are more expenditures coming out than funds coming in.

My mother was sick recently. It wasn’t Covid-19. However, I felt desperation and agony, because I wanted to help her. My siblings and I send her money for medicine and food. It doesn’t matter if I’ve had little money, I’ve sent her what I can. I wish I could send her more, but I can’t.

Now that it’s September, it feels like we’ve already lost the year. We’re not going to accomplish any of the goals we set in January. Our dreams are now on hold. I don’t see an end to the pandemic any time soon. The only thing that might save us is a vaccine, but even then, that might not come until next year.

I had set a goal to fix my house, and I wanted to study to get a G.E.D.-equivalent degree, but all of that implies money. I have all the time in the world to accomplish that, but there’s no money.

October: ‘They want us out’

We’re still waiting. They haven’t told us how long it will be before we can return to work. Finding a new job has been difficult, especially in the resorts, which have a lot of people waiting like us.

There’s hope with the new casinos opening, such as the Virgin Hotel, where my wife used to work when it was the Hard Rock. She should be one of the first employees called back.

My unemployment benefits just expired. I’ve applied for an extension, but I don’t think I’ll receive money this week or the next.

The other sad update is that the president got a green light to end the T.P.S. program (which has allowed families who fled El Salvador and other countries to temporarily live and work legally in the United States). It’s frustrating, tacking that worry onto our current struggles.

This is another blow for my family. We’re struggling. Imagine instead of receiving help, they throw something else at us.

The courts had stopped President Trump, but now he has a green light if he wins re-election, which I hope he doesn’t.

We started at the bottom. One way or another, one must start from the bottom and climb little by little. But right now, instead of helping us, they want us out.

Thousands of families, more than 7,000 in Nevada, will be destroyed. We don’t know what we will do with our children, who are American citizens. If we take them to El Salvador, they will lose their studies. If they stay, they’ll be alone, without monetary or moral support.

We pay taxes, we contribute to the economy. We’re hard-working, law-abiding people. We do things the right way. We must keep our legal status.

My daughter, who turned 18 two days ago, educates her classmates about T.P.S. when she gets a chance. She’s very aware of what’s at stake.

I can’t vote, but I wouldn’t vote for someone who doesn’t want us here. She will cast her ballot for Joe Biden, “aportando su granito de arena” — contributing her grain of sand.

If Trump wins, we have no more hope.


Become a #ThisIsTucson member! Your contribution helps our team bring you stories that keep you connected to the community. Become a member today.