Thousands have died crossing the border between Mexico and the United States. Many of these victims were found in the harsh Sonoran Desert of Arizona long after they passed. Their remains are unidentifiable, and they have become anonymous causalities to brutal nationalistic policies. The United States government strategically uses this unforgiving desert terrain to kettle migrants into an unfamiliar land where they wander for days in the elements with a policy called “prevention through deterrence.” Nature is used here as an executioner by proxy. I photograph the exact locations where the bodies of unknown migrants are found in the Sonoran Desert. These people could not be identified and remain anonymous to this day. How do we mourn for those we do not know? These landscape photographs act as a space for somber remembrance and an examination of the cruel footprint of United States history. Our colonialist narrative, imperialist ambitions, and aspirations of manifest destiny permeate this land in every mountain and valley. The sites of death are representative of the horrors attached to these oppressive histories, policies, and ideologies that continue to guide the United States forward into the 21st century. I use experimental and alternative photographic processes in the darkroom in this work as a conduit to speak to the complex social and political narratives that run through these landscapes. I also consider the strategic use of hazy, impressionistic, and sometimes violent mark-making embedded in these photographic processes as a metaphor for the chaos, confusion, fear, heartbreak, pain, and collective emotions felt by each human being as they met their end in this harsh unfamiliar land. Ultimately, I do not know the exact thoughts of these individuals when they died, but I try to imagine and empathize through the language of photography. They are not forgotten, and we must not forget. This work is is both a call for remembrance and a call for action.