I met Carlos in Tijuana, outside of the Benito Juarez Shelter. Gathered a few feet outside of the grounds, hundreds of local vigilantes were set on fighting off the Caravan. The tension was cut, minutely thanks to the wall of armed forces guarding the building. For their safety, migrants were advised to stay indoors; Carlos sat slept outside, alone. Worried for his life, I asked for his family. He told me he was 15, and was alone. Thousands of children travelled alone during this journey. Once they reached the border, they were put into child custody by the U.S. They were faced with two options--either take refugee status in Mexico or return home. Last I saw him he was sitting by the food stand asking for chips.