Across the United States, the machinery of immigration enforcement is shifting into high gear, drawing national attention to the growing number of people detained by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), the conditions inside these facilities, and the political battles now raging over their operation. Recent developments in Arizona, Texas, New Mexico, and Michigan have brought these issues into sharp relief, highlighting both the human cost and the political stakes of America’s approach to immigration detention.
On September 6, 2025, Arizona Congresswoman Yassamin Ansari (D-AZ03) made headlines with a visit to the ICE Eloy Detention Center. In a video recorded onsite, Ansari described the foreign nationals held inside as her “constituents,” a claim that was swiftly and repeatedly disputed by federal authorities. According to AZ Free News, Ansari accused the privately run facility, operated by Core Civic, of “dehumanizing, racist, unacceptable treatment,” and pointed to the case of Arbella Rodríguez Márquez—known as ‘Yari’—whose green card was revoked after being denied parole on human smuggling charges. Rodríguez Márquez, who suffers from leukemia, was allegedly not receiving proper medical care, Ansari claimed.
But the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) pushed back hard. Assistant Secretary Tricia McLaughlin publicly refuted Ansari’s allegations, stating that all detainees receive proper meals, medical treatment, and opportunities to communicate with family and lawyers. “Ensuring the safety, security, and well-being of individuals in our custody is a top priority at ICE. ICE has higher detention standards than most U.S. prisons that hold actual U.S. citizens,” a DHS spokesman told 12News. The spokesman also emphasized that Ansari was not denied access to the facility in July, contrary to her assertions.
The controversy over who counts as a “constituent” and what rights non-citizens possess in the U.S. is hardly confined to Arizona. In Texas and New Mexico, the detentions of two Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) recipients have ignited legal and political battles. On August 13, 2025, Paulo Cesar Gamez Lira, a 28-year-old forklift operator and DACA recipient, was pulled from his car by seven plainclothes, masked men in Horizon City. According to court documents cited by El Paso Matters, the men did not identify themselves or produce a warrant. Gamez Lira now faces removal procedures at the Otero County Processing Center in New Mexico.
Just ten days earlier, on August 3, Catalina “Xochitl” Santiago—a 28-year-old DACA recipient and indigenous Zapotec woman—was detained by U.S. Customs and Border Protection at El Paso International Airport. She was minutes from boarding a flight to Dallas for a conference when agents, again without a warrant, detained her and transferred her to the ICE El Paso Service Processing Center. Both Gamez Lira and Santiago have since filed federal court petitions challenging their detention and seeking release, arguing violations of due process and administrative procedure.
The detentions have shattered families and sparked protests. “Barely three weeks had passed since our baby finally left the hospital and we were enjoying our new life as a family, when ICE unjustly took him away,” Gamez Lira’s wife stated in her petition. “In that instant, they destroyed our family. I demand justice. I demand my husband’s freedom. And I demand that they stop destroying families.” Gamez Lira, who has held DACA status since about 2014 and renewed it through August 2026, has multiple U.S.-born children. His family’s security camera footage, shared with Channel 26 KINT, shows his children screaming and his mother rushing to rescue them from the car during the arrest. His sister described the incident as a “kidnapping,” noting the lack of identification or a warrant from the arresting men.
For Santiago, who has lived in the U.S. since she was eight and whose DACA protection is valid through April 2026, the arrest has led to protests and fundraisers for her release. Her criminal record includes a decade-old guilty plea for disorderly conduct related to civil disobedience and other non-conviction charges. Still, her detention has raised questions about the security and permanence of DACA protections.
The Department of Homeland Security’s position on DACA recipients has grown more stringent. In a statement to the press, Assistant Press Secretary Tricia McLaughlin asserted, “DACA recipients are not automatically protected from deportations and it does not confer any form of legal status in this country.” She even urged recipients to self-deport. This stance was immediately challenged by 41 Democratic and independent U.S. senators, who wrote to Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem arguing that DACA holders “are not considered to be unlawfully present” under longstanding agency guidance.
Meanwhile, the infrastructure supporting mass detention and deportation is expanding. In Michigan, the North Lake Processing Center near Baldwin opened on June 16, 2025, and already houses about 400 ICE detainees—more than all other Michigan detention centers combined, according to the Michigan Immigrant Rights Center. Owned and operated by GEO Group under a two-year contract with ICE, the 1,800-bed facility was previously closed in 2022 but has now become a focal point in the national debate over immigration enforcement.
Republican lawmakers and GEO Group tout the center’s job creation potential in Lake County, one of Michigan’s poorest regions. “The center’s re-opening will have a major impact on the local economy by bringing much-needed jobs back to rural Michigan,” Jacob Huner, communications director for Rep. John Moolenaar, told The Detroit News. But immigrant rights advocates and local activists have raised alarms about GEO’s human rights record and approach to transparency. Ewurama Appiagyei-Dankah of the Michigan ACLU called the facility “antithetical to Michigan values,” while others pointed to past complaints of poor conditions, hunger strikes, and lack of access to legal counsel at GEO-run facilities.
One family’s ordeal illustrates the stakes. Nael Shamma, a 58-year-old Palestinian American living in Burton, Michigan, was detained by ICE in August. His family was left in the dark about his whereabouts for days, and his niece told The Detroit News, “It just feels as though he was just kidnapped.” Shamma’s wife described North Lake as “a giant prison,” and initially, he was denied medication for high cholesterol and insomnia, though ICE maintains that comprehensive medical care is provided from the moment a detainee enters custody.
Nationally, the Detroit ICE field office has detained more than 3,000 people through late July 2025, already surpassing the total number of arrests in 2024. President Donald Trump has vowed to carry out a million deportations per year in his second term, and the expansion of facilities like North Lake is seen by some as a way to fulfill that promise. “Now there’s tons of money out there, they’re going to fill these facilities,” immigration lawyer Richard Kessler told The Detroit News.
As the debate intensifies, all sides agree that the stakes are personal and profound. Whether viewed as essential to public safety or as antithetical to American values, the growing network of ICE detention centers is reshaping communities, families, and the national conversation about who belongs—and at what cost.
