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immigration detention
'I Was the Test Case': Mahmoud Khalil Decides to Stay and Fight
In his new memoir, Mahmoud Khalil describes the moment he realized his detention was bigger than him.
Sep 29, 2026
I had the first call with my lawyers four days after my arrest. The guards escorted me to a room across the detention center, a multipurpose hall with scattered chairs and a small table and a phone next to the reinforced window overlooking the inner yard. Several people were already on the call, attorneys whose names and faces I would see on the screen over the next hundred days. They asked me to confirm that I was alone. I did. “Do a visual sweep,” one of them suggested. I scanned the room and checked the corners, beneath the air-conditioning vents, along the ceiling lights, searching for something I couldn’t name. It felt performative. If they wanted to listen, they would listen.
The lawyers filled me in on the court proceedings so far. I had so many questions. They tumbled out of me, one after another, the accumulation of four days of confusion and dread. How could they do this? What are the charges? How is any of this legal? When will I be out? When will I be returned to New York?
They had no conclusive answers, only mostly legal terminology that obscured as much as it revealed. The lawyers were careful with their words, precise in ways that frustrated me. I wanted certainty. They could only offer procedure.
The king wanted to send a message, and I was the messenger, sent to everyone who might consider speaking out.
They explained that they had filed something called a habeas corpus petition on my behalf. It sounded ancient, almost biblical. Baher, one of the lawyers, was generous enough to explain that the Latin phrase dated back to the Magna Carta, to the thirteenth century, when kings could make people disappear and the barons had to invent a mechanism to find them. Habeas corpus was a demand: Produce the body. Show us the prisoner. Justify his detention, or let him go.
I was the body in question, shipped over thirteen hundred miles from New York to Jena, Louisiana.
The habeas corpus petition had been filed in federal court in New York, along with two requests or motions, one for release on bail while the case continued and another to compel my return to New York. Federal court was different from immigration court, I learned. The separate immigration process would start in two weeks, which was indicated in the papers they had handed me in New York. I didn’t understand. It’s all the same country, the same system. What difference does it make which court hears my case, and where?
A huge difference, it turned out—one that would decide the fate of my case in the days to come. “Immigration court is not a real court,” one of the lawyers said. Immigration courts are the president’s courts, where arguments challenging presidential illegality are swallowed by the urgency of an executive campaign of mass deportation. Immigration judges are government employees, appointed by the attorney general, who is appointed by the president—the same president who had tweeted about me. In immigration court, there is no presumption of innocence, no jury or real independence. The process is designed for efficiency, not justice. Federal courts were different. The federal court is a constitutional court, which can hear constitutional claims against the executive branch. The judges are appointed for life. They don’t answer to the administration. They must follow the Constitution and case law. The government wanted my case in immigration court because the outcome was easier to control. In federal court, they would actually have to justify what they had done. In federal court, I might win.
The government had concealed my whereabouts in those first crucial hours, the lawyers said. They hadn’t known where I was. New York? Elsewhere? They had even tried tracking flights to Guantánamo. They had filed an emergency petition at 4:38 in the morning to prevent my deportation, but I had already been moved to New Jersey at that point. By the time everyone figured out I was in Louisiana, the government was arguing that any legal challenge should be heard there, not in New York.
Louisiana’s courts, heavily Republican, would be more favorable to the Trump administration. By moving me here, the government had shifted the fight to terrain they controlled, using geography as a weapon.
But there was another reason. They wanted to isolate me. In New York, I had my wife, friends, community, and the press. In Louisiana, I had nothing. I was alone in a facility in the middle of the woods, cut off from everyone who knew me.
The battle, then, was over two things: Which court system would hear my case, immigration or federal? And which venue, New York or Louisiana? Our argument was simple: I resided and was arrested in New York. This wasn’t really an immigration case. I wasn’t detained for violating immigration law. I was detained for what I said. For protesting and speaking out about Palestine. That made it a constitutional case, one where the First Amendment was crucial, and constitutional questions belong in federal court.
The government’s argument was equally simple: You’re an immigrant, now detained in Louisiana. This is an immigration matter. Stay in your lane.
It all sounded technical. Procedural. The kind of thing that puts people to sleep. But the venue and jurisdiction would determine everything. The government knew it. That’s why they had moved so fast to get me out of New York. That’s why they hid where they were taking me.
My case was the blueprint they wanted to set, and the one we had to tear up.
As the lawyers talked, I began to understand the scope of what I was facing. This was not a mistake. It was not overzealous enforcement. This was deliberate and planned at the highest levels of government. The president had tweeted my picture. The secretary of state had invoked obscure powers. Multiple agencies had worked together to snatch me from my home and transport me across the country in less than a day.
By the end of the call, one thing was clear: The lawyers were as shocked as I was. These were experienced attorneys: Some had worked on landmark Guantánamo cases. They had seen government abuse and overreach. But this was different: the speed, the secrecy, the coordination. The invocation of powers they had never seen used before. They compared it to the Red Scare.
“This provision the secretary of state used,” or the Rubio Determination, as it was called, “we’re not aware of it ever being applied in a case like this,” one of the lawyers said. “It’s unprecedented.” So I was not just a case; I was an experiment, I realized. The government was testing what it could get away with, using me as the test subject or “blueprint,” as the White House would boast. If they succeeded with me, a permanent resident with no criminal history, imagine what they could do to others. To the men sleeping in bunks around me, who had no lawyers, no press, no one watching. We would later learn, from the government’s own court filings, that this law had never before been used against anyone with my status.
My case was the blueprint they wanted to set, and the one we had to tear up.
This was the turning point, the moment when I grasped that this was bigger than me. It was bigger than my case, my green card, my deportation. I had not been detained for a crime I committed. They knew I never committed a crime. I was detained for what I represent, for saying something the king and his courtiers didn’t like.
The king wanted to send a message, and I was the messenger, sent to everyone who might consider speaking out. Every student who might join a protest would get the message, every person who might dare to criticize Israel or question American policy, domestic or foreign. The message was simple: This could be you. Your rights will not protect you. Your innocence will not protect you. We can take you in the night, and there is nothing you can do about it.
If I chose not to fight the case, I could “self-deport,” the lawyers explained, and leave “voluntarily.” But the Rubio Determination came with a lifetime ban against returning to the United States. We ended the call. I made no response to this offer. Maybe I should have.
Lying on my bunk that night, my eyes wrapped in a makeshift blindfold of socks, I knew I couldn’t walk away. If I left, they would call it a victory. They would say I must have been guilty of something. My departure would confirm their accusations without them having to prove anything. Every lie they told about me would be validated by my departure. The smear campaign would become the official record. And it wouldn’t end with me.
If I self-deported, I would be handing them the road map for silencing dissent. Immigrants joining a protest would remember that green cards offer no protection, that years of building a life in this country can be erased if the government doesn’t like their speech. Everyone would understand the new rules: Speak up, and we will find a way to make you disappear.
The Palestine solidarity movement in America was already under siege when I was abducted. Students had been doxxed, smeared, suspended, expelled. Others had lost their jobs for signing letters or joining a protest. During his presidential campaign, Trump vowed to donors who were furious at the student uprising that he would crush the pro-Palestine protests and “set that movement back twenty-five or thirty years.” My case was meant to be the capstone, proof that they could go further than suspensions and firings.
I thought about the students I had met at Columbia, the ones who had risked their careers to pitch tents on the lawn, to demand that the university divest from companies profiting from occupation. If I ran, what message would that send to them? That the fight wasn’t worth it? That when the pressure got real, even the people who told them to speak up would flee?
I thought about the Palestinians who had been waging this struggle for decades, long before it was fashionable, before celebrities posted about it on Instagram or walked red carpets with pins on their lapels. They had faced worse than arbitrary detention. They had faced ethnic cleansing, daily humiliation, dehumanization, imprisonment, the loss of everything. Who was I to give up at the first serious test? I thought of the people in Gaza buried beneath rubble while the world debated the justifications for their deaths. About farmers in the West Bank facing Israeli settlers burning their villages with impunity. About the millions of refugees, scattered across the world, still holding keys to the homes to which they could not return. They couldn’t self-deport out of their suffering. They couldn’t sign a paper to make it stop.
I was the test case. And I refused to comply.
Excerpted from NO LAND TO STAND ON: Notes from Detention by Mahmoud Khalil. Published by Metropolitan Books. Copyright © 2026 by Mahmoud Khalil. All rights reserved.
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We Cannot Allow ICE Killings to Become Normal
We cannot allow these deaths to become routine, and we cannot let them disappear into statistics. Every death should force us to ask what kind of country we are becoming.
Aug 29, 2026
Jose Chajon-Raxon, an immigrant from Guatemala, died this August at Delaney Hall, a controversial Immigration and Customs Enforcement facility in New Jersey. His death marks more than 50 deaths in ICE custody since President Donald Trump took office last year.
Despite all the controversies, ICE keeps killing people—a sentence that should never feel normal. We should never find ourselves counting the days between deaths or waiting for the next headline. But somehow, we have.
Earlier this year it was Renee Good, then Alex Pretti. This summer it was Lorenzo Salgado Araujo and Joan Sebastián Durán Guerrero. Before them were Silviero Villegas Gonzalez and Ruben Ray Martinez. Those are only the names we know—many others will never make national news.
The day I read about Durán Guerrero’s death, I was returning home from work. I glanced at the headline and kept going. That’s what scared me the most. I wasn’t shocked that ICE had killed someone—I expected it.
No matter where you were born, what political party you belong to, or whether you support stricter immigration enforcement, no government should have the power to kill or imprison people with so little accountability.
Only later, when I stopped and read the details, did it hit me: He was shot multiple times. His 3-year-old daughter, wearing Bluey pajamas, was in the car when it happened. According to his family’s attorney, Durán Guerrero was lawfully present in the United States and had a work permit. And he wasn’t even the person ICE was looking for when he was shot.
After shooting Durán Guerrero, officers pulled him from the vehicle and handcuffed him. By then, he may already have been dead.
These are not tragic misunderstandings. These are choices.
Imagine seeing armed people in tactical gear—no body cam, their faces covered—surrounding your car. Most people would be terrified. Most people would try to get away. Durán Guerrero tried to stop, but it did not matter—the agents fired on him anyway.
ICE continues carrying out operations with masked agents in unmarked vehicles, creating confusion and fear before a single word is spoken. Immigration officers have fired on at least 30 people since President Trump returned to office. Eight of those people were killed.
Each time, the government tells us the agents acted in self-defense. Public statements quickly frame the victim as the threat. Witness testimony and video evidence often cast doubt on these accounts, but they still shift the focus away from the loss of human life and toward justifying why it happened.
Meanwhile, tens of thousands of people are still being detained every month.
In June 2026, ICE arrested more than 43,000 people, about 1,400 every day. By July, nearly 68,000 people were being held in immigration detention. The overwhelming majority of those arrested had no criminal convictions.
This includes over 6,000 children. Children who are spending their birthdays behind bars. Children who should be back in school, safe and protected. Many have been detained for 100 days or more—five times longer than the 20-day limit for detaining immigrant children.
They’re being held in facilities like Delaney and others, where human rights groups have warned repeatedly that dangerous conditions are leading to preventable deaths. ICE deaths reached their highest level in decades last year, and this year is on track to be no better.
These numbers matter. Every statistic was someone’s father, daughter, husband, neighbor, friend.
I’m afraid of how easy it has become to read another headline and move on. I know because I caught myself doing exactly that.
No matter where you were born, what political party you belong to, or whether you support stricter immigration enforcement, no government should have the power to kill or imprison people with so little accountability. No family should have to watch a loved one become another name on a growing list.
We cannot allow these deaths to become routine, and we cannot let them disappear into statistics. Every death should force us to ask what kind of country we are becoming. We cannot normalize these killings, and we cannot stop demanding justice and accountability.
We should never get used to counting ICE’s victims.
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War Zones In Nigeria Leave Disabled People Behind; In the US, We’re Doing It Too
The system that has failed Disabled people during Nigeria's security crisis is the same system that fails us here in not just natural disasters like hurricanes or wildfires, but active shooter situations, and immigration detention as well.
Aug 09, 2026
Hurricane season is upon us, and for many Disabled people across the US, it means a renewed sense of insecurity and uncertainty around their well-being. So often, Disabled folks are too often left behind in emergency preparedness and response efforts, and are ultimately treated as afterthoughts. With the 21st anniversary of Hurricane Katrina approaching and a continued climate crisis with no end in sight, this glaring oversight is ever present in the minds of Disabled people nationwide.
This isn’t an issue that’s unique to the US, however. It’s something that Disabled communities face on a global scale, and it’s time we took a hard look at what countries across the world can do to center Disabled people in ensuring the safety and security of their citizens.
Take Nigeria, for example. A new investigation from Deaf Nigerian filmmaker and journalist Alexander Ogheneruemu, "Forgotten People," tells, in part, the story of Ayoade Beyioku-Alase, a Deaf man who was nearly killed as a child in Kano because the violence closing in on his house came with no siren, no interpreter, no warning he could access. "A Deaf person can walk right into the middle of danger," he says in the piece.
It’s easy for those of us in the US to read a story like this and feel far away from it. It’s easy to think, ,“This isn’t us.” The truth is that, whether we want to accept it or not, it is us. It just looks a little different.
Disabled people in the United States are two to four times more likely to die or be critically injured in a disaster than nondisabled people.
As a Disabled person who has worked in this space for many years, I can tell you that the system that has failed Disabled people during Nigeria's security crisis is the same system that fails us here in not just natural disasters like hurricanes or wildfires, but active shooter situations, and immigration detention as well. The threat might be different, but we have more in common with these failings than you’d be led to believe.
The alarm itself is the most direct parallel. Federal guidance from the Department of Justice acknowledges that most emergency warning systems in this country were built for people who can hear and see. Sirens, radio, television, flashing lights are all assumed to be visible to everyone. Tornado sirens across the Midwest and South are audio only, offering nothing to a Deaf person indoors when weather becomes a threat. The National Association of the Deaf has told emergency management agencies for years that mass notification systems don’t reach people who rely on video instead of standard calls. This is a serious and blatant example of ableism, where Disabled people are treated as an afterthought in emergency planning.
In Ogheneruemu’s "Forgotten People,” produced by the Disability Justice Project, the journalist says that 4,654 lives were lost in Nigeria's insecurity crisis last year. Our own numbers are just as alarming. Research compiled by the Center for American Progress and the Partnership for Inclusive Disaster Strategies puts it bluntly: Disabled people in the United States are two to four times more likely to die or be critically injured in a disaster than nondisabled people.
During Hurricane Katrina, people over 60 years old, who included many Disabled folks, made up 73% of storm-related deaths in Louisiana. According to the National Council on Disability, 68 of those victims died in nursing homes, some abandoned by staff who left rather than arrange evacuation. Twenty years later, not much has changed. When the Eaton Fire tore through Los Angeles in January of 2025, at least 3 of the 27 people killed were Disabled, and NBC News reported that Disabled people displaced by disaster are almost twice as likely not to return home.
Then there's our own man-made violence. Nigeria's crisis comes from armed conflict, and ours also often comes from gun violence. More than 100 US school shootings have happened since Sandy Hook in 2012, and the response drilled into an entire generation of children is to run and hide. Inherently, this completely excludes Disabled kids. The Washington Post and The Mighty have both documented children left alone in hallways, forgotten in therapy rooms, and locked out of safe zones during lockdowns because there wasn’t a plan that accounted for them. New Jersey only recently passed legislation forcing districts to build disability-specific evacuation plans after families spoke out. The message we’re sending to Disabled kids here is that they’re on their own.
The Disability Justice Project's own reporting has already shown us what this looks like at our own border: a Deaf asylum-seeker was held for five months in Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention without a sign language interpreter, ultimately unable to explain to anyone why he was afraid to go home. If disability access can vanish inside a US federal detention facility, we have no standing to act shocked that it vanishes during a flood or a fire.
This isn’t the kind of thing that’s unknowable, either. The data is out there, and the stories are plentiful. It’s simply not prioritized by those in power, and more often than not it’s unfunded. Disability still makes up just 2% of philanthropy, despite Disabled people comprising about 25% of the US population. Every dollar that goes toward disaster response, school safety, or immigration oversight without disability at the center is putting more Disabled folks in harm’s way. And even if that isn’t you, it could be your mother, father, child, friend, or neighbor. That’s why funding disability is more important than ever. We don't need another report to tell donors and policymakers that Disabled people die preventable deaths in emergencies.
Instead, we need them to stop treating that fact as new information every single time it happens. Funders, just like lawmakers and others in positions of power, need to wake up and see for themselves just what the disability community is up against.
If we can learn one thing from the security crisis in Nigeria, it’s that Disabled people deserve the same protections and safeguards that nondisabled people have in dangerous and precarious situations. It’s already too late, but in the US, in Nigeria, and in countless other countries, there’s still time to save many more Disabled lives.
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De-ICE Citizens Bank: A Model of a Successful Civil Resistance Campaign
The grassroots effort was a textbook example of sustained, targeted civil resistance that can undermine Trump administration policies; by chipping away at corporate supporters of programs like ICE, citizen activism can erode and stop these initiatives.
Aug 02, 2026
Just as a great loaf of bread requires the right ingredients to rise, a winning civil resistance campaign needs three essentials to rise up: a compelling vision, broad community engagement, and a spark for action.
The De-ICE Citizens Bank campaign had all these ingredients, which is why it succeeded in forcing Citizens Bank to stop financing prison company giants, CoreCivic and GEO Group, operating dozens of detention centers for US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). The Rhode Island bank severed its ties in mid-July after months of protests and other targeted actions across the country.
Hundreds of rallies, faith-led actions, shareholder demands, billboard and flyover campaigns, and withering financial pressure—withdrawals totaling $380 million, with more still happening—created a tsunami of opposition the bank could not ignore.
It is a textbook example of sustained, targeted civil resistance that can undermine Trump administration policies. By chipping away at corporate supporters of programs like ICE, citizen activism can erode and stop these initiatives.
While Bank of America and a half-dozen other banks ended their relationships with private prison companies in 2019, Citizens strengthened its ties, providing more than $2.8 billion in loans and other credit to CoreCivic and GEO Group over a dozen years.
“No, Citizens Bank won’t credit you at all for its decision, but it is what it is,” MSNBC’s Rachel Maddow said, during a 10-minute segment on the campaign win in late July. “Actions have consequences, including when you work hard, when you organize, and when you decide to just never give up.
"And then the day does come when you win.”
It Started With One Person
This civil resistance story began with a single person, a woman in Texas, taking a stand. She didn’t carry a protest sign or march alone. She built a website.
Horrified by ICE’s mass incarceration campaign early last year, research-nerd activist Laura Berlin, a mother of two teenagers, built a website, boycottcitizens.org, to expose Citizens Bank’s role.
While Bank of America and a half-dozen other banks ended their relationships with private prison companies in 2019, Citizens strengthened its ties, providing more than $2.8 billion in loans and other credit to CoreCivic and GEO Group over a dozen years.
Drawing on Securities and Exchange Commission filings and other documents, the website showed Citizen’s duplicity, loan-by-loan, year-by-year. Still, the website didn’t get much attention when it was launched 13 months ago, only a dozen or so views a day in the first few months.
That all changed in January when ICE’s aggressive crackdown sparked and exploded. Just as a dozen Northeast activists were organizing their first coordinated protest day against Citizens Ban—an effort of the new De-ICE Citizens Bank Coalition—mother and poet Renee Good was gunned down January 7 by an ICE agent in Minneapolis.
Campaign interest and traffic on Berlin’s website took off. When Alex Pretti, an intensive care nurse, was shot and killed 17 days later in the same city, momentum skyrocketed.
And It Kept Growing
On January 24, the campaign held three-dozen rallies in six states. By March, there were 70 protests in a dozen states. Three months later, 140 protests were organized nationwide, drawing in thousands of regular people angry about an immigration crackdown that has booked and detained more than 600,000 people, 66,000 of whom have been deported.
As protests swelled, coalition members brought new partners into the campaign. One brought in a key union group and activist students at Brown University. Others brought in faith groups. Dozens of local Indivisible groups also joined, including a Rightful Resistance group in New York City that specialized in billboard campaigns.
The Greater Boston Interfaith Organization (GBIO), a powerful faith group with deep historic ties to Citizens Bank, was an especially important partner.
The city’s pullout was a bit of a surprise, with the vote and initial withdrawal of $150 million happening in less than 24 hours. It was a clear sign that the campaign, which had swelled to 175 groups in 17 states, was now a movement.
In the early 2000s, GBIO teamed up with Citizens to offer a financial literacy program for its immigrant members around Boston. The bank also lowered fees for immigrants sending remittances to their families. “We were proud to bank with Citizens, and I was proud to be a member of the bank’s board of directors at that time,” wrote Rev. Ray Hammond, a key GBIO leader, in a recent column.
By winter 2026, the good vibes were over.
In early March, GBIO sent a letter to the bank requesting it cut financial ties with the prison companies. In April, Hammond and other shareholders confronted Citizens CEO Bruce Van Saun at the bank’s annual meeting in Providence. As Van Saun answered questions about reputation and legal risks, hundreds of protesters, young and old, sang and chanted loudly outside. They also pledged to withdraw their deposits if changes were not made.
The financial pressure campaign, "Not with Our Money, Citizens," came at a key moment. While rallies and billboards boosted awareness and sullied the bank’s reputation, the campaign now had a lever to harm the bank financially.
Within a few weeks, GBIO and the coalition had mobilized $20 million in withdrawal pledges by churches, synagogues, nonprofits, and individual customers angered by the bank’s role in bankrolling prisons. By May, GBIO had pulled $2 million of its deposits, while a similar faith organization in Ohio, the Greater Cleveland Congregations, was threatening to do the same.
Millions of withdrawals may sound like a lot, but it’s relatively small for a bank like Citizens, with $233 billion in assets. At weekly meetings, coalition members brainstormed how it could increase the financial bleeding—to turn those millions into hundreds of millions.
New Jersey Takes a Stand
The answer came in June and the spark came from New Jersey. After weeks of hunger strikes and protests at GEO Group’s Delaney Hall ICE prison in Newark, municipalities started fighting back. The first blow was Jersey City’s June 7 vote to close its accounts with Citizens and pull all $276 million of its deposits.
The city’s pullout was a bit of a surprise, with the vote and initial withdrawal of $150 million happening in less than 24 hours. It was a clear sign that the campaign, which had swelled to 175 groups in 17 states, was now a movement.
One month later, Montclair, New Jersey did the same—another $91 million in deposits out the door. And other communities, including Bloomfield and Hoboken, were looking to follow suit.
Three days after Montclair’s vote, Citizens Bank called it quits. With no public fanfare, it released a statement to a Boston Globe reporter saying, “Citizens has determined that it is now appropriate to exit the credit facilities for these clients.”
The bank called it a ‘business decision,” while repeatedly downplaying the role of activists.
We know better.
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Trump's Deadly, Cruel Immigration Policy May Be a Political Failure As Well
As more information comes out about lives lost, communities harmed, and an economy hobbled by the loss of critical workers, previously supportive voters may turn against Trump's mass deportation agenda.
Jul 24, 2026
The Trump administration is doing everything it can to get rid of what it considers to be “undesirable” people.
The administration has removed temporary protected status (TPS) for more than a million people from over a dozen countries. It is sending people back to active war zones in Sudan and Somalia. It is deporting people to Myanmar, a country under a military dictatorship. In the case of Venezuela, it is returning people to a country struggling to deal with the aftereffects of an earthquake.
Some holders of this status have been in the country for a long time. Nearly 90% of the 170,000 Salvadorans who have TPS, first granted 25 years ago, participate in the US labor force, contributing over US$5 billion to the US economy.
The administration makes no exceptions in its campaign to deport anyone and everyone. Even as it has promised to fight a war on behalf of the people of Iran, it has reportedly provided information about Iranian asylum-seekers to the Iranian government. These details about their lives, such as their sexual orientation and religious beliefs, make it even more likely that they will be persecuted on return. Dozens of Russians, who don’t enjoy TPS, were flown back to Russia, where several were immediately slapped with draft notices.
The administration has tried to tout the successes of its deportation program. But the deaths of citizens and noncitizens alike have put supporters of the president on the defensive.
There is no length to which the administration won’t go to deport people, even American citizens like the children born in the United States who were kicked out of the country along with their parents. So far, the Supreme Court has blocked the administration’s attempt to overturn the “birthright citizenship” clause in the US Constitution. But President Donald Trump is still pushing his allies to take up the fight in Congress to change the law.
The administration even tried to add 2.7 million living people to the “Death Master File,” which is a database of dead people maintained by the Social Security Administration. Trump’s plan was to make life so difficult for people declared “dead” that they would self-deport or, if they showed up to dispute their “death,” to detain them in preparation for deportation. It was only because of a whistleblower that this plan didn’t go into effect.
But the most visible effort by the US government has been to target the approximately 14 million “unauthorized immigrants” who, as of 2023, constituted over 4% of the US population. Such immigrants keep the American economy afloat by picking fruit, slaughtering cows, building houses, and taking care of the elderly.
Trump’s mass deportation campaign, in other words, would wreck the US economy. The undocumented don’t take away jobs from native-born Americans because the latter generally don’t want the jobs that immigrants fill. But the administration is willing to risk economic disaster in its effort to keep America a predominantly white country.
Trump’s anti-immigrant plan has not just evicted people. It has not just locked them away in detention centers. It has killed them.
In recent weeks, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents were involved in two killings. Joan Sebastian Durán Guerrero, a 25-year-old Colombian national living with his wife and young daughter in a small town in Maine, was not the subject of an ICE raid, but ICE agents killed him anyway. Lorenzo Salgado Araujo, a Mexican immigrant, was a businessman and father of three on his way to work in Houston when agents stopped his car and shot him.
More than a dozen people have died in these kinds of interactions with ICE, including two US citizens—Alex Pretti and Renee Nicole Good—protesting ICE actions in Minnesota.
The number of detainees who have died in custody is even higher. Tens of thousands of people are being held in detention facilities that the Trump administration has established around the country. Despite administration claims that it is only deporting dangerous criminals, more than 70% of those detained have no prior criminal convictions.
More than 50 people have died in the detention facilities, a rate that is more than twice as high as Trump’s first term. They have died because of conditions inside the facilities or because they didn’t receive sufficient medical care. Several have died by suicide.
The Trump administration has pledged to deport a million people a year. It hasn’t quite reached that benchmark, with the administration itself claiming around 900,000 deportations as of mid-May. It has also claimed that more than 2 million people have self-deported. However, without transparent data from the Department of Homeland Security, it is difficult to verify the administration’s claims.
These numbers are critical to the administration’s approval rating. On virtually all other policies, Trump is losing popularity. Inflation numbers remain high, and the economy is failing millions of Americans. The war in Iran continues to push up gas prices. The administration is still dogged by controversies around budget cuts, corruption, anti-vaccine policies, and connections to Jeffrey Epstein. The overall approval rating for the administration is around 37%, with a large percentage of independent voters now adopting negative views of the president.
The one issue where a sizable number of Americans still approve of administration policies, however, is immigration. Compared to the economy at 33% and the war in Iran at 29%, 40% of Americans approve of his immigration policies. But even here the numbers are declining, since half of Americans supported his approach to immigration when he took office in 2025.
The administration has tried to tout the successes of its deportation program. But the deaths of citizens and noncitizens alike have put supporters of the president on the defensive. The detention and deportation of key members of communities—hard workers, religious leaders, even those espousing the same conservative family values of the administration—have led to a significant decline in anti-immigrant sentiment among Republicans.
Still, with the economy on the rocks and the war in Iran nowhere near an end, the Republicans will likely try to emphasize the “success” of the administration on immigration policy in the upcoming midterm elections in November. It will be a desperate strategy. As more information comes out about lives lost, communities harmed, and an economy hobbled by the loss of critical workers, the administration’s deportation strategy may turn out to be a failure politically as well for the president and his party.
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ICE’s New Immigration Detention Center Guidelines Make Them Even More Dangerous
These new guidelines are a gift for private prison companies. By lowering standards across the board, they empower them to more thoroughly exploit detainees without fear of legal ramifications.
Jun 19, 2026
On June 15, Immigration and Customs Enforcement released new rules governing immigration jails intended to “streamline requirements” and “reduce the burden on our detention operators.”
The Washington Post reported on Tuesday that during the revision process, The GEO Group, one of the biggest private prison firms in the country, requested that ICE make changes that would benefit its businesses and court cases.
The GEO Group has significant ties with the Trump administration. It was a major donor to President Donald Trump’s 2025 inaugural fund and Trump-aligned super PAC. In 2025, they spent more than $3.6 million on lobbying expenditures. Perhaps most importantly two of Trump’s top immigration officials—Border Czar Tom Homan and Acting Director of ICE David Venturella—were previously employed by them.
In a statement, ICE claimed it “consulted with a variety of stakeholders, including facility operators responsible for implementing the standards,” and “considered that input” during the revision process. The end result, however, is a series of policies that overwhelmingly benefit private prisons.
Detention centers have always been inhumane institutions by design. Under Trump, they are becoming even worse.
This includes: first, clarifying that detainees “are not considered facility and/or government employees and are not entitled to wages or benefits.” This effectively eliminates a prior rule that stipulated that detainees “shall receive monetary compensation of not less than $1.00 per day for work completed.”
That change alone is a major win for private prisons. The GEO Group has faced multiple lawsuits for violating minimum wage laws. In 2023, the Washington Supreme Court ordered the company to pay $17.3 million to hundreds of detainees in back pay.
By designating detainees as non-employees, ICE is providing private prisons with the legal excuse needed to engage in even more egregious wage theft.
Second, the new guidelines specify that detention centers do not “have a right of refusal for any ICE detainee that ICE decides to detain.” As such, they will likely be forced to admit people who are severely ill or injured, regardless of whether they are able to provide appropriate medical care.
A related rule change notes that “in cases where a detainee has medical or mental health needs that exceed the capabilities of the facility, the facility shall notify ICE and request a transfer.” This process may take days—time that a detainee with a life-threatening condition may not have. To date, at least 50 people have died in ICE detention since the start of Trump’s mass deportation campaign in January 2025.
Notably, last year, the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) funneled $10 billion through the Navy to accelerate the construction of new detention centers that could house as many as 10,000 people each. Under the Navy’s terms, contractors building and staffing those new facilities do not have a “right of refusal and shall take all referrals from ICE as applicable.” ICE’s new guidelines expand that “right of refusal” to existing immigration centers.
This sets a dangerous precedent at a time when more US citizens are being swept up in ICE’s immigration raids. This includes people like Dulce Consuelo Diaz Moralez, a US-born citizen, who was wrongfully imprisoned by ICE for 25 days late last year. Denying detention centers a “right of refusal” will likely protect them from any lawsuits resulting from US citizens arrested and held by ICE.
Third, detention centers are permitted to use “machine learning-based translation or generative AI” for “non-critical communication (i.e., those of moderate importance, urgency, or significance) or during informal interactions with detainees.” This includes “reviewing and responding to a detainee’s non-English grievance or other request related to basic issues/concerns within detention.”
As Dr. Homer Venters, an expert on correctional healthcare, remarks, such grievances often include “very urgent or even emergent information such as when a patient has been denied lifesaving care.”
Many detainees have reported that guards routinely ignore their pleas for medical care and assistance. In May 2026 at The GEO Group-operated Delaney Hall, one detainee, Elder Guerra, suffered a seizure after falling and hitting the back of his head. It was only after detainees begged that guards finally called an ambulance for him. According to his relative, Guerra’s condition continues to worsen.
Substituting human translators with AI provides guards with a built-in excuse for their lack of responsiveness. Going forward, they can simply claim that the translation tool failed to communicate the urgency of their request, which led to inaction on their part.
After all, such tools are far from infallible. For instance, volunteers with Respond Crisis Translation, an organization that offers human translation and interpretation services for migrants and refugees, described a case where a woman seeking asylum due to domestic abuse used the phrase “mi jefe” to describe her father—a common colloquialism in her country. The AI tool translated the phrase literally as “my boss,” and her application was denied.
The basic problem is that machine learning algorithms are trained on datasets consisting of whatever is most represented in digital sources. While there are over 7,000 languages and dialects spoken worldwide, the vast majority of digital content is written in English, French, German, Spanish, Mandarin, and Russian. This limitation means that AI tools will be far more prone to error when it comes to translating idioms from underrepresented parts of the world as well as underrepresented languages, such as Wolof or Hausa.
Given that the new guidelines do not require any form of human oversight for AI translations, if the AI makes a mistake (and it will), that error may never be corrected. What’s more, if that error has serious consequences for a detainee, it’s unclear who, if anyone, would be held responsible.
ICE claims that it is constantly reevaluating its detention centers “to ensure we are providing the best care to illegal aliens in our custody.” And yet, while there have been hunger and labor strikes at three The GEO Group-operated immigration jails within the last three months, none of the new guidelines address those systematic failures.
This is not surprising, however. Since Trump retook office, DHS has eliminated and restricted oversight, while also rescinding regulations meant to hold detention operators responsible for their mistreatment of detainees. On June 4, ICE announced it will no longer investigate or report the deaths of those who have been recently released from their custody. This move is meant to absolve ICE of responsibility for the deaths of people like Daphy Michel. A medical examiner said Michel, a Haitian asylum-seeker, was “suffering from untreated severe mental health issues and a significant language barrier.” Despite this, ICE agents released her 25 miles away from Pittsburgh in the middle of winter without a coat or any regard for how she would get home. She died of hypothermia three days later.
Neither DHS, The GEO Group, nor any private prison firm care whatsoever about the health and well-being of detainees. On June 8, The GEO Group filed a lawsuit against Colorado challenging a new law that requires them to always have medical and mental health professionals available at their detention facilities. It is currently being sued by the state of New Jersey for refusing to allow its Department of Health to conduct a full inspection of Delaney Hall.
These new guidelines are a gift for private prison companies. By lowering standards across the board, ICE is empowering them to more thoroughly exploit detainees without fear of legal ramifications.
Detention centers have always been inhumane institutions by design. Under Trump, they are becoming even worse. There is only one viable solution here: abolish detention centers; abolish ICE.
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When ICE Detains a Father, a Child Pays the Price
As Father's Day approaches, many children are already missing fathers they were unfairly separated from, not because those fathers failed their children, but because of a failed immigration system that is increasingly willing to separate families.
Jun 19, 2026
When I was little, I’d wake up when I heard my dad getting ready for work. I’d run downstairs hoping to catch him before he left so I could hug him goodbye. My father, an immigrant from India, came to the United States as a child with my grandparents in search of stability and opportunity. They worked hard to build a life here, and I grew up watching my dad do the same—out the door early, home late.
Sometimes I cried if I missed him before he left. Sometimes I cried even after a hug, because the day felt so long without him. But there was one thing I never questioned: He would come home.
Too many children in immigrant families don’t have that certainty today. In recent months, high-profile cases have shown how quickly stability can disappear, as families are swept into immigration enforcement and children are separated from their parents, often with little warning. New research from the Brookings Institution estimates that more than 100,000 children have been separated from a parent during the Trump administration’s immigration crackdown, and that most of those children are likely US citizens. Researchers also warn the true scale may be even higher because the government does not consistently track whether detained immigrants are parents.
A father can leave for a shift and not come back, not because he chose to abandon his family, but because immigration agents arrested him on his way to work, during a scheduled court check-in, or even in everyday places like airports. In recent weeks, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents have been deployed in airports across the country, where travelers have witnessed arrests unfold in real time. We are already seeing the consequences in deeply troubling ways, including the case of 5-year-old Liam Conejo Ramos in Minnesota, whose detention alongside his father drew national attention.
For years, politicians have lamented a “fatherlessness crisis.” We should name what we are doing when we detain and deport fathers without regard for their children. We are actively manufacturing it.
When parents are detained, children are often pulled into the system with them, or families are left scrambling to stay together. Recent court filings describe hundreds of children held in family detention facilities beyond court-ordered limits, often without adequate food, medical care, or mental health support. Many other children are left with relatives, neighbors, older siblings, or informal caregivers while parents remain in detention or face deportation proceedings, forcing children to navigate sudden loss and uncertainty.
According to federal data compiled by TRAC, more than 60,000 people are currently held in ICE detention, and nearly three-quarters have no criminal conviction. The Trump administration claims that ICE targets “the worst of the worst,” but the data tell a different story. Because immigration arrests disproportionately target working-age men, many detained are likely fathers. That gap matters deeply in a country where more than 4 million US citizen children live with an undocumented parent. That omission makes it easier to debate immigration enforcement policy while overlooking the children who are directly impacted. Even if only a fraction of those detained are parents, that still means thousands of children losing a caregiver, a provider, or both, frequently overnight. They are neighbors and community members, often fathers who were actively raising their children until the day the government took them away. I know this not only from policy data, but from listening to fathers talk about their children.
As a senior policy researcher at Children’s Rights, I study how family stability shapes a child’s well-being and how quickly it can be shattered by the government. We have found that current immigration policies are not only separating families but causing measurable harm to children, including mental health challenges, developmental delays, and disruptions to their education. Federal data show children being held in immigration custody for months at a time, often averaging more than 150 days, exposing them to prolonged instability and stress.
In a qualitative study published in the Journal of Child and Family Studies, my co-authors and I interviewed 85 Latino fathers raising young children in the United States. Many were immigrants, primarily from Mexico, El Salvador, and Guatemala. They spoke about love and connection, wanting to be present, witness milestones, and serve as role models. They reflected on their own parents and their hopes for their children. They described the burdens of responsibility, but also of joy. They sounded like parents everywhere, underscoring how universal these parenting motivations are.
That is why detaining fathers is not just harsh, it is shortsighted. Decades of research show fathers play a unique role in children’s emotional well-being, behavior, and learning. When the government removes a father without warning, holds him for weeks or months, and ultimately deports him, children do not experience it as “policy.” They experience it as a profound loss.
As Father’s Day approaches, I am thinking about the fathers who show up for their children every day, who work long hours, provide stability, and try to build better futures for their families. Across the country, many children are already missing fathers they were unfairly separated from. Not because those fathers failed their children, but because of a failed immigration system that is increasingly willing to separate families.
For years, politicians have lamented a “fatherlessness crisis.” We should name what we are doing when we detain and deport fathers without regard for their children. We are actively manufacturing it. If we truly care about children’s health and well-being, we must treat family integrity and stability as essential.
Congress and the administration should require ICE to collect and publicly report whether those it detains are parents of minor children, and ensure children are not left without safe caregiving arrangements. This is especially urgent given recent reporting that ICE is failing to follow its own policies designed to protect family unity, including requirements that agents ask whether someone has children and allow parents to make decisions about their care. ICE should use detention more sparingly for parents and expand community-based alternatives that allow people to keep working and caring for their children while their cases proceed.
I still picture my younger self at the top of the stairs, running toward my father’s morning hug. Every child deserves to believe, with confidence, that a parent who leaves in the morning will come home at night.
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Bearing Witness to ICE Abuses at Delaney Hall
We must work together to keep the pressure on the Trump administration to meet detainees' demands for human rights, due process, and for their freedom.
Jun 10, 2026
The warehouses of human suffering are all around us. Filthy, inhumane prisons where immigrants are hidden away and brutalized. It's up to us to keep pushing to end these modern-day concentration camps. To expose them, empty them, and tear them down.
For months we New Jerseyans have mobilized to defend our brothers and sisters locked away in Delaney Hall in Newark. Many there are on a hunger and labor strike to protest the inhumane conditions inside—the rotted food, untreated illness, physical abuse and mental anguish—and the injustice of their detention in the first place. They are demanding their freedom.
Delaney Hall is just one part of a national network of immigrant abuse. It’s not about enforcing immigration laws—it’s about a paramilitary operation to attack and imprison immigrants and people of color, and keep them in inhumane conditions without the possibility of freedom until they give up their rights and accept deportation. In prisons all over the country—Adelanto, Dilley, Krome, Otay Mesa, Hutto, and others—corporate contractors like GEO Group are profiting from human isolation, sickness, and death. The Trump administration is supplying the bodies. And Congress is pumping billions of dollars more to feed this obscene, corrupt system.
Right now there is so much we can and must do to support the people suffering and protesting inside those walls. Some courageous fighters have already been released. But the struggle continues. We must work together to keep the pressure on the administration to meet their demands for human rights, due process, and for their freedom, starting first with the release of the most vulnerable, the elderly, young, pregnant, and sick.
We who are outside need to keep fighting and organizing to defend imprisoned immigrants and to support their families.
At a bare minimum, we must bear witness. The ICE Out of New Jersey collective has brought together several state and local community and grassroots organizations to be in the front lines to defend immigrants and expose and resist the administration's abuses. The groups are the New Jersey Immigrant Rights Program of the American Friends Service Committee, CATA - The Farmworkers Support Committee, Cosecha NJ, DIRE (Deportation and Immigration Response Equipo), El Pueblo Unido, Estamos Unidos NJ, the National Day Laborer Organizing Network, Resistencia en Acción NJ, and Semilla Roja NJ.
Also, Eyes on ICE is building a network of watchful vigilance and mutual aid. Community members, elected officials, faith leaders, students, unions—it's going to take all of us, all across the country. To show that we could be different. We must not look away. And we must not stop.
President Donald Trump and those enforcing his white-supremacist campaign of mass imprisonment and mass deportations want us to feel afraid and powerless. The police—like the New Jersey state troopers who attacked peaceful protesters at Delaney Hall—want to intimidate us. We need to work together to shift this narrative, at all levels, from the governor and state and federal representatives to mayors and grassroots leaders.
When we say, “No justice, no peace,” we mean it. We are neither afraid nor powerless. And we are not strangers. We are human, like those just inside those walls.
Our freedom out here is linked to their freedom inside. We must fight for the liberation of all. The attack on one is an attack on all of us.
We must be witnesses when we are ordered to leave and told there's nothing to see. Even when Immigration Custom Enforcement agents and state police officers beat, trample, and pepper spray us in the name of "keeping the peace."
We must keep saying no—not now, not ever, never again. We must not allow the Trump administration and its state and local partners to keep abusing their power and using our money to commit moral atrocities in secrecy.
We the people must hold firm to our humanity and reject their barbarism.
The administration's top goal is to dehumanize immigrants. But despite all their violence, they have failed. The men and women behind the bars of immigrant prisons like Delaney Hall refuse to be dehumanized. Those who are on a hunger and labor strike are asserting their human dignity, which can never be erased.
We who are outside need to keep fighting and organizing to defend imprisoned immigrants and to support their families. We must keep up the pressure, for as long as it takes and with all the power we have.
We must not let their inhumanity dehumanize us.
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Abolish Immigration Detention Centers
Depriving detainees of medical services, hygiene products, fresh food, and basic accommodations is part of a deliberate strategy aimed at maximizing profits for private prison companies as well as achieving the Trump administration's xenophobic goals.
Jun 09, 2026
For more than two weeks, hundreds of detainees at Delaney Hall immigration detention center have been on hunger and labor strike. They are protesting consistent medical neglect; being fed rotten, maggot-filled food; as well as overcrowded and poorly maintained living conditions. Outside the facility, protesters have clashed with federal agents, leading to dozens of arrests.
The Department of Homeland Security (DHS) and the Geo Group, the private prison company that operates Delaney Hall, have severely restricted access into the facility. On June 8, they finally granted New Jersey Governor Mikie Sherrill a “closely controlled and limited tour of the facility.” This is unsurprising. DHS has unlawfully prevented elected officials from entering Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) facilities in Illinois, Minnesota, Maryland, Colorado, Mississippi, Texas, New York, and California.
Geo Group has likewise sought to restrict access to their facilities. In fact, on June 8, they filed a lawsuit against Colorado challenging a new law that requires all detention facilities in the state to undergo more regular inspections. The law further mandates that such facilities must always have medical and mental health professionals available on site. A spokesperson for Geo Group claimed that the new law has “the purpose of making it more difficult for federal immigration officers to carry out their responsibilities in Colorado and impose direct burdens and requirements on facilities used in immigration operations.”
Describing more oversight and requiring medical staff as “burdens” is a telling admission that ultimately points to the broader problem here. What is occurring at Delaney Hall is not an isolated incident. In fact, there is another hunger and labor strike currently happening at the Adelanto ICE Processing Center in California. From April to mid-May 2026, hundreds of detainees at North Lake Processing Center in Michigan also went on strike. Both are operated by Geo Group.
The current system of mass deportation and detention is cruel, costly, and ultimately unnecessary.
Depriving detainees of medical services, hygiene products, fresh food, and basic accommodations is part of a deliberate strategy aimed at maximizing profits for private prison companies as well as achieving the xenophobic goals of DHS.
In addition to multimillion-dollar government contracts, private prison companies profit by exploiting the labor of detainees via the “Voluntary Work Program.” Participants are typically paid $1 per day regardless of the number of hours they work.
Despite the name, this program is far from voluntary. First, because basic amenities are not provided, detainees must rely on the company’s commissary and its limited assortment of overpriced goods. In 2019, the Adelanto facility charged $3.25 for a can of tuna, $7.12 for a 2.5oz tube of denture cream, and $11.02 for a 4oz tube of toothpaste.
Second, those who refuse to work may be subject to retaliatory measures. In 2022, detainees at the Mesa Verde Detention Facility and Golden State Annex—both operated by Geo Group—went on a labor strike. Like the detainees in Delaney Hall, they too were protesting inhumane living conditions. Those who participated in the strike reported being kept in prolonged solitary confinement and denied medical treatment due to their involvement.
This is the economics of detention: intentionally underserving detainees generates demand for overpriced commissary goods. Their desperation and vulnerability are exploited to force them to work long hours for meager wages. All the while the company generates millions in profits.
Amid President Donald Trump’s mass deportation regime, Geo Group’s profits soared from $32 million in 2024 to $254 million in 2025. The company spent over $3.6 million on lobbying expenditures over the same period.
Geo Group is not alone here. About 86% of all detainees are held in facilities operated by for-profit companies, including CoreCivic, Lasalle Corrections, Ahtna Technical Services, and Management & Training Corporation (MTC).
This brutality also serves the interest of DHS. For instance, in 2025, a family from Venezuela was given permission to live and work in the US while their asylum case was pending. At their hearing, the judge immediately dismissed their case without even listening to their testimony. They were then detained by ICE and transferred to the South Texas Family Residential Center—a privately-run facility operated by CoreCivic.
After a month, they were released, but the damage had been done. The psychological stress, trauma, and fear of being detained again drove the family to self-deport. As one of the parents put it, “As soon as we got out [of detention], I told my husband, we’re leaving this country, I don’t care where we end up, but we’re not staying here.” She even called other neighbors to warn them to stay inside. “I never want anyone to go through the same experience we went through inside the detention center.”
That’s the point. Deportations are expensive. In January 2026, DHS reported that the “current cost of a single enforced deportation is $18,245.” For this reason, DHS has adopted a practice of “attrition through enforcement”—the explicit goal here is making life so incredibly difficult that immigrants will decide to leave the US rather than endure the hardship. To this end, the Trump administration has abused its authority to cut off immigrants—both documented and undocumented—from jobs, medical care, financial services, tax credits, and even childcare.
Detention centers are also part of this strategy. Kamel Maklad, a former detainee who spent more than two years at the CoreCivic-operated Eloy Detention Center, explained that guards consistently tried to find excuses to put people in solitary confinement. “They do it so that the detainee, out of desperation, will hurry up and request voluntary deportation.” He further added that one guard explicitly told him: “It’s part of my job. I have to make your life miserable so that you request your own deportation.”
All immigration detention centers—and ICE more broadly—must be abolished. They are dehumanizing institutions born out of capitalist greed, xenophobia, and the callous indifference to the suffering of others.
A better path is possible. In fact, before Trump, the US was on a (relatively) better track. In 2017, he eliminated the Family Case Management Program (FCMP). FCMP paired immigrants with pending court cases with social workers who offered legal guidance. On average, 99% of participants complied with ICE check-ins and appointments, and 100% attended their court hearings. Out of 954 people, only 23 were reported as absconders. FCMP cost about $38 per family per day in 2017. By contrast, in 2019, DHS estimated that the average daily rate for family beds at a detention center was $318.79. This is one of many cost-effective and humane alternatives to the current system of mass detention.
It is worth stressing here that only 5% of people detained by ICE have violent criminal convictions—73% have none. Detention centers are not protecting the public from dangerous “foreign invaders.” The vast majority of immigrants meaningfully contribute to our communities—they pay taxes, drive innovation, and contribute to the economy. Even if they didn’t, however, they are still human beings worthy of respect and dignity.
The current system of mass deportation and detention is cruel, costly, and ultimately unnecessary. We can and must do better.
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‘What I Witnessed and Experienced Today Was Shameful,‘ Says US Senator Pepper Sprayed by ICE
Sen. Andy Kim of New Jersey said federal immigration agents "poured gasoline on the fire" as protesters condemned appalling conditions inside the Delaney Hall detention facility.
May 26, 2026
A sitting US senator was pepper sprayed by federal immigration agents on Monday during a demonstration outside of the notorious Delaney Hall detention center in Newark, New Jersey, where migrants are engaged in a hunger strike to highlight deplorable conditions inside the facility and demand their release.
Sen. Andy Kim (D-NJ) said he rushed to the migrant detention center—which was reopened by the Trump administration last year—after learning of the hunger strike, which began late last week. Following Monday's protest, Kim wrote on social media that he saw "chaos" and "more of the same lawlessness we've see elsewhere around the country," alluding to horrific—and sometimes deadly—abuses by Immigration and Customs Enforcement Agents (ICE) in Minnesota, Georgia, Texas, and elsewhere.
"Instead of engaging with me and others about the poor conditions, ICE sent in an armored vehicle and a line of armed agents that only poured gasoline on the fire. Civilians were tackled and restrained, and agents fired pepper balls and spray into the crowd," said Kim. "Our country deserves accountability. Our country deserves the humane treatment of every person here. In fact, our Constitution demands this. What I witnessed and experienced today was shameful."
"Delaney Hall is a failure; it’s this administration’s failure," Kim added. "The only way to make this right for our communities is to shut it down and make sure the failures we’ve seen never happen again."
NJ.com reported that Kim, who was visiting the facility along with other New Jersey representatives including Democratic Gov. Mikie Sherrill, "initially tried to broker a temporary agreement between the demonstrators and federal agents, in which the agents would scale back tactical teams and immigrant advocates could inspect cars leaving the facility to see if detainees were inside."
Demonstrators had earlier expressed concern that ICE was planning to secretly transfer hunger strike participants to other detention facilities.
"But in the meantime, agents began pushing the crowd backward, firing less-lethal rounds containing an irritant toward the protesters and making several arrests," NJ.com continued. "At times, Kim stepped between the protestors and agents putting his arms up in a 'stop' motion as the scene grew chaotic. Later, Kim was among those who received first aid after being exposed to pepper spray."
The Department of Homeland Security (DHS), which oversees ICE, issued a statement characterizing protesters as "dangerous rioters" and claiming that "no individuals were directly struck by pepper ball projectiles."
DISGRACEFUL: ICE agents tear-gassed U.S. Senator Andy Kim at Delaney Hall detention facility in NJ today!
Kim was supporting hunger-striking detainees protesting spoiled food, no medical care & extreme heat when federal agents unleashed tear gas & pepper spray. Kim struggled to… pic.twitter.com/CyPQJCkW50
— Ed Krassenstein (@EdKrassen) May 26, 2026
Delaney Hall is run by the private prison corporation GEO Group under a $1 billion, 15-year contract with ICE.
The families of people detained at Delaney Hall have decried "dangerous conditions" inside the facility, alleging "medical neglect, lack of air conditioning, and lack of food—including rotten and spoiled meals." The ACLU of New Jersey noted earlier this year that "when food is provided—as it is not often supplied—people have reported that it is frozen or otherwise inedible, in small portions, and distributed at odd hours, which is particularly harmful for people who are diabetic and trying to maintain a stable blood sugar level."
After seeing the inside of the facility over the weekend, Kim wrote that "our government should focus on helping Americans afford their lives, not lock people up in for-profit detention centers where corporations like Geo Group and CoreCivic make billions."
"No profiting off of human misery," Kim added.
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