Nolan Hanson couldn't shake the feeling of "dread and doom" when his colleague didn't show up to work in March. Winter still gripped New York City when the boxer arrived at Gleason's Gym for one of his shifts, only to realize that another trainer and a dear friend of his was nowhere to be found. It wasn't like Talap Mamyrkanov to ditch work without notice, as Hanson says, "he was never sick, or even if he was sick, he would still come." If it were an appointment or other engagement, Hanson knew Mamyrkanov would have asked him to coach his fighters in his place. "I was looking at the clock and just really distracted the whole day. I knew something was wrong," Hanson tells The Advocate. "The next day I went on this website where you can look up people to see if they've been detained by ICE, and that's where I found him."Hanson, a transgender man, moved to Brooklyn in 2014 seeking a change from his home in Wisconsin. Mamyrkanov, who is Central Asian and Muslim, came to the city as an asylum seeker in 2019, fleeing religious and ethnic persecution in Russia. Both took roles as trainers at Gleason's as a way to meet new people while staying connected to the sport they love. While the two didn't have much in common on a surface level, their love of the sport spoke for them, with Hanson saying they "had that connection pretty much right away." Mamyrkanov, the only instructor at the gym who teaches in the Soviet boxing style, began imparting his knowledge to Hanson, and an unlikely friendship blossomed. "We're both incredibly serious about boxing, so that's something that unifies us," Hanson says. "He's also just incredibly friendly. He's one of the funniest people I've ever met. We would just crack up together. Maybe there's some part of it where we related as outsiders in the gym. He's the only Russian-speaking trainer, he's the only Central Asian coach there that teaches Soviet style, and I'm the only trans guy trainer. So, maybe there's something about being more on the periphery that connected us."Despite attending regularly scheduled check-ins with his immigration agent, Mamyrkanov was detained by Immigration and Customs Enforcement at one of these meetings in March, and remains in their custody almost six months later, according to Hanson. While Hanson desperately tried to locate him, Mamyrkanov was moved from the city to New Jersey, and from New Jersey to upstate New York. He was then scheduled to be deported.While Russia's constitution states on paper that the country is secular and protects freedom of religion, reports from the U.S. State Department detail how the government persecutes religious groups by designating their services as extremist activities." Groups such as Jehovahs Witnesses, the Mejlis of the Crimean Tatars, Hizb ut-Tahrir, Tablighi Jamaat, followers of Turkish Muslim theologian Said Nursi, the Church of Scientology, Falun Gong, and evangelical Protestants have routinely been subjected to imprisonment, torture, and asset seizure.With Hanson's help, Mamyrkanov was able to obtain an attorney who filed successful motions to stay his removal and reopen his original asylum case, which was dismissed in 2021. His case is set to be heard Wednesday, after which his colleague hopes he'll return to the gym. After Mamyrkanov worked hard to build his client base, Hanson says that "most of them are not coming" to the gym anymore. The loss of the beloved instructor has been particularly hard on his teenage students, who were just beginning to show an interest in boxing and have since fallen out of it. "Without him, they just don't really want to box," Hanson says. "It's traumatic, you know? I mean, you've got no preparation. He was just gone suddenly. It's been really difficult for them."Some of Mamyrkanov's students miss him so much that they've driven up to Buffalo to personally visit him in detention. Those who remain at the gym are now under the care of Hanson, who's trying to fill his mentor's shoes the best he can."I really miss him a lot," Hanson continues. "I've taken on a number of his students the ones that are still coming to the gym and training. My goal has been to keep the type of energy that he brought to the gym, and try to keep his fighters' intensity level and their activity level similar to what he had them at, so that when he comes out, they're ready to go and they don't deteriorate in his absence."Hanson and Mamyrkanov still talk regularly, though the latter isn't very forthcoming about his well-being. Mamyrkanov isn't one to complain, but Hanson knows that "he misses his life." While "he's really eager to get out of the detention center," Hanson also knows that "he's incredibly resilient.""He doesn't complain," Hanson explains. "I never knew anything Talap went through in his life ... He used to allude to difficult times or being poor, but he doesn't complain. So, I've asked him, 'Are you safe?' He says, 'Yes, I'm safe.' 'Are people treating you okay?' 'Yes, everybody's okay.' 'Do you have friends?' And he has a couple people that he talks with in there, but he says, 'This is jail.'"Hanson is also the subject of a coming-of-age documentary that's been filmed over the past five years for HiLo another project that's felt the weight of Mamyrkanov's absence. Hanson maintains that the gym, the documentary, and life in Brooklyn just won't be the same without his "insanely passionate and also incredibly disciplined, engaged" friend. "I'm just trying to spread the word to get as much support around his case as possible," Hanson says. "Anyone who is in a situation like his, they need a lot of support, and 99.999 percent of the people don't have it. So, I'm grateful to be able to try to help however I can, and I really have hope that he'll be free. God willing, he'll be free, and we'll be able to move forward with a new chapter in his life."