In the heart of the Florida Everglades, trucks rumble in and out of a sprawling new detention center, a facility that’s drawn national attention—and not just for its nickname, “Alligator Alcatraz.” Meanwhile, in West Texas, a sea of white temporary structures rises from the desert at Fort Bliss, where the Camp East Montana immigration detention facility is rapidly expanding. And in a quiet Texas town, an Iranian dissident languishes in U.S. immigration custody, his fate uncertain as supporters fear deportation could mean a death sentence. These stories, unfolding simultaneously in 2025, reveal the complex, controversial, and often opaque world of U.S. immigration detention at a moment of heightened political pressure and public scrutiny.
According to the Associated Press, the “Alligator Alcatraz” facility—officially an immigration detention center built by the state of Florida—sits on an isolated airstrip surrounded by sensitive wetlands in Collier County. The center’s construction was rushed in late June to support President Donald Trump’s renewed efforts to deport people living in the U.S. illegally. Florida Governor Ron DeSantis, a Republican, touted the remote location as a deterrent against escape, drawing a parallel to California’s infamous island prison, Alcatraz. In July, Trump himself toured the facility, suggesting it could serve as a model for a new generation of detention centers nationwide.
But the project has not unfolded quietly. On August 7, 2025, Florida officials applied for federal reimbursement for the costs of building and running the detention center. Yet, as revealed in a public records lawsuit filed on October 13 by Friends of the Everglades, the state did not disclose this funding request to the courts—even as a federal appellate panel weighed whether the facility required a federally mandated environmental impact study. The omission, the lawsuit alleges, led to a “misimpression” before the panel, which put on hold a judge’s order to wind down operations at the site. U.S. District Judge Kathleen Williams had previously ruled that the facility, situated in a fragile ecosystem, needed to cease operations within two months because federal law required an environmental review—a step overlooked by both state and federal agencies, according to the plaintiffs, which include the Miccosukee Tribe and other environmental groups.
On September 4, a three-judge panel in Atlanta issued a stay, allowing the facility to remain open pending appeal. The majority opinion argued that the environmental review wasn’t necessary—at least not yet—because Florida had not received federal funds. “If the federal defendants ultimately decide to approve that request and reimburse Florida for its expenditures related to the facility, they may need to first conduct an EIS (environmental impact statement),” the judges wrote in their order.
However, federal officials confirmed in early October that Florida had indeed been approved for a $608 million reimbursement, raising new questions about whether an environmental study is now required. Friends of the Everglades, in their lawsuit, are seeking communications and documents between state and federal officials, which they say have been withheld despite repeated requests since June. “Government officials in Florida have misled the public they are supposed to work for, and the Everglades have been harmed as a result,” Eve Samples, executive director of Friends of the Everglades, said in a statement to the Associated Press. The Florida Department of Emergency Management did not respond to requests for comment.
While the legal battle rages in Florida, Texas has become the epicenter of another massive detention effort. As reported by the El Paso Times, the Camp East Montana facility at Fort Bliss began receiving detainees on August 1, 2025, and has been expanding by 250 beds each week. By October 1, aerial photographs revealed at least twelve temporary structures on the site, up from just four in August. The center is slated to hold up to 5,000 single adults scheduled for deportation, though the original plan under the Trump administration called for a capacity of 10,000.
As of September 23, there were 1,860 men and 159 women detained at the facility, according to the office of U.S. Rep. Veronica Escobar, D-El Paso. Her office, however, has struggled to obtain updated information in the weeks since. The $231.8 million contract to build and operate the facility was awarded to Acquisition Logistics LLC, following Presidential Executive Order 14159, which authorized the use of “national security assets for law and order.”
Yet, the rapid construction and expansion have not come without problems. In September, ICE inspectors reported no fewer than 60 violations in just 50 days, including inadequate medical care, poor food quality, and a lack of access to legal representation. Congressional oversight visits by Rep. Escobar and Rep. Jasmine Crockett, D-Dallas, have highlighted these concerns, with follow-up visits sometimes canceled without explanation. According to The Washington Post, inspectors found that the facility failed to properly monitor and treat some detainees’ medical conditions and did not provide adequate means for communication with legal counsel.
Meanwhile, at the Prairieland Detention Center in Alvarado, Texas, the personal cost of U.S. immigration policy is playing out in the case of Erfan Qaneifard. As reported by Iran International, Qaneifard, an Iranian dissident and researcher, has been in ICE custody for over 200 days as of mid-October 2025. He was detained after reporting to an ICE office in Dallas to update his address, just as he was preparing to start a teaching job at a local college. Prairieland, which houses more than 700 detainees, has faced repeated complaints of overcrowding and harsh conditions.
Qaneifard’s supporters fear that deporting him to Iran would be a death sentence, given his outspoken criticism of Tehran’s clerical regime. His attorney, Masoud Peyma, told Iran International, “The risk is real. If he is sent back, his life will be in danger. There is no reason for him to remain in detention after six months.” An online petition, “Free Erfan Qaneifard — Stop His Deportation to Danger,” has gathered nearly 3,000 signatures, urging U.S. authorities to halt any removal order and uphold obligations under the Convention Against Torture. Qaneifard’s earlier asylum request was rejected in 2018, but his legal team is seeking to reopen his case with new evidence of his political work.
Qaneifard’s plight comes on the heels of a controversial U.S.-chartered flight that deported dozens of Iranians—some reportedly political dissidents or Christian converts—back to Tehran, following months of negotiations between Washington and Iranian authorities. For Qaneifard’s friends and advocates, his detention is a test of America’s stated commitment to protect those who speak out against tyranny. “America’s promise is to protect people who speak out against tyranny,” said Mojgan Mehdizadeh, a California activist who launched the petition. “Erfan’s case is a test of that promise.”
From the wetlands of Florida to the deserts of Texas and the halls of immigration courts, the stories of these facilities and the people inside them underscore the human, legal, and environmental stakes of America’s evolving approach to immigration enforcement. As these cases wind through the courts and public debate intensifies, the nation’s promise—and its contradictions—are on full display.
