The small rural town of Mason, Tennessee, has become the latest flashpoint in America’s ongoing debate over immigration, private prisons, and economic survival. On Tuesday, August 12, 2025, Mason’s Board of Mayor and Aldermen voted to approve two contracts: one with CoreCivic, a private prison operator, and another with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). The decision paves the way for the reopening of the long-shuttered West Tennessee Detention Facility as a 600-bed ICE detention center—bringing both hope and anxiety to the community of just over 1,300 residents.
The votes—4-1 with two abstentions for CoreCivic, and 3-2 with two abstentions for ICE—came after a heated special meeting marked by passionate protests, tense exchanges, and little time for public review. According to Talk-N West TN, the contracts were finalized just one day before the vote, a move that left many residents feeling blindsided and unheard. On Main Street, dozens of townspeople and nearby community members gathered, waving signs and chanting in opposition to the facility’s reopening.
For some, the reopening represents economic salvation. Mason’s Mayor, Eddie Noeman, the town’s first Egyptian immigrant mayor, has championed the contracts as a lifeline for the struggling town. "We welcome everyone and their businesses with open arms," Noeman told reporters, emphasizing the economic and job growth benefits he believes the facility will bring. He added, “Maybe I agree, disagree, but at the end of the day, I’m (looking) for the benefit of the town of Mason.”
CoreCivic, for its part, promises a substantial boost to the local economy. The company projects the creation of 240 jobs starting at $26.50 per hour for detention officers, with an annual salary of $55,000 according to lobbyist Jerry Lankford. The facility is expected to generate $325,000 in annual property taxes and provide a $200,000 impact fee for the town. The company has already received more than 2,100 job applications—an indication, CoreCivic representatives argue, of the community’s hunger for employment after the facility’s closure in 2021.
“To me that says a lot about the hole that was left in the community when the contract ended in 2021 and what the desire is for good-paying jobs,” a CoreCivic spokesperson told WREG. The company also touts competitive benefits, including medical, dental, and vision insurance, a matching 401(k), paid leave, and tuition assistance, aiming to attract qualified staff and support the local workforce.
But for many Mason residents, the economic argument fails to outweigh ethical and practical concerns. The public meeting was punctuated by emotional pleas and sharp criticism. “This particular detention center will be less than 20 minutes from my son’s high school. And when he graduates, this is not the job I want him to be able to have,” said resident Civil Miller-Watkins, as reported by WPLN News. She continued, “Tonight, you’re here to decide how much a Black and Brown body costs … All money is not good money.”
Others questioned the long-term impact and morality of the project. Eloise Thompson, whose family has lived in the area for decades, told WREG, “No, to turn Mason into a for-profit center for human suffering, Mason is more than that. That sounds like economic growth for the community, when, in fact, it’s not. It’s not long-term, it is human suffering. We’re not interested, I’m not interested any kind of growth at the expense of our immigrant community.”
Local resident Darryle Dowell recalled his time working for CoreCivic, then known as Corrections Corporation of America. He alleged that despite promises of $20 an hour, he received only $10 an hour even after a promotion. Dowell went further, likening the facility to a “concentration camp.” His words echoed the deep distrust many feel toward private prison operators, especially given CoreCivic’s troubled history.
Indeed, CoreCivic is currently the subject of a federal civil rights investigation for chronic understaffing and “endemic” violence, as highlighted by WPLN News and Fox News. Since 2022, the state of Tennessee has fined the company nearly $45 million for its inability to adequately staff prisons. The Associated Press reports that CoreCivic has spent more than $4.4 million settling 80 lawsuits and out-of-court complaints related to mistreatment—including at least 22 inmate deaths. These revelations have only fueled public skepticism about the company’s assurances of humane care and safety.
CoreCivic, however, insists on its commitment to respectful and lawful treatment of detainees. In a statement, the company said, “For more than 40 years, CoreCivic has played a limited but important role in America’s immigration system… Our responsibility is to care for each person respectfully and humanely while they receive the legal due process that they are entitled to.” The company also emphasized that it does not enforce immigration laws, arrest individuals, or influence deportation or release decisions. “We will not operate without direct, onsite oversight from our government partners,” CoreCivic stated, distancing itself from policy decisions and enforcement actions.
The return of the detention facility is only possible because of a dramatic shift in federal policy. The West Tennessee Detention Facility had closed in 2021 after the Department of Justice, under President Joe Biden, declined to renew its contract with CoreCivic, following an executive order to halt renewals with private detention facilities. But on January 20, 2025, President Donald Trump rescinded Biden’s order, reopening the door for private operators like CoreCivic to re-enter the immigration detention business. The move is part of a broader push by the Trump administration to expand ICE detention capacity nationwide, with similar efforts underway in states like Florida and Indiana.
Mason’s Vice Mayor, Reynaldo Givhan, captured the conflicted mood of the town. He told Fox 13 Memphis that while he voted in favor of the CoreCivic contract, he “really had to do some soul searching” and ultimately abstained from voting on the ICE contract. The debate has left Mason at a crossroads, torn between the promise of jobs and the weight of ethical responsibility.
Mayor Noeman remains steadfast in his belief that the facility is the best path forward for Mason. “We’re trying to get Mason back in the right direction,” he said. Still, as the town prepares for the possible reopening of the facility by late 2025, the community’s divisions are unlikely to disappear anytime soon.
The story of Mason, Tennessee, is a microcosm of the national struggle over immigration, private prisons, and the pursuit of economic stability. As the town’s future hangs in the balance, one thing is clear: the decisions made here will reverberate far beyond its borders, shaping lives and livelihoods for years to come.