For millions of immigrants living in the United States, the rules of the game have shifted dramatically in recent months. A sweeping new policy from the Trump administration, outlined in a July 8, 2025 memo obtained by The Washington Post, now mandates that immigrants who entered the country illegally are no longer eligible for bond hearings during deportation proceedings. Instead, these individuals must remain in detention for the entire duration of their removal cases—a process that can drag on for months or even years.
This shift, announced by Todd M. Lyons, acting director of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), has sent shockwaves through immigrant communities and legal circles alike. Previously, immigrants residing in the U.S. interior could request a bond hearing before an immigration judge, offering a chance for release while they fought their cases. Now, that decision rests solely with immigration officers, not judges, and such releases are expected to be rare exceptions.
The policy’s reach is vast, impacting not only recent border crossers but millions who have lived and worked in the U.S. for decades—including those with deep family ties and U.S. citizen children. According to The Washington Post, the provision is based on a section of immigration law that states unauthorized immigrants “shall be detained” after arrest. Traditionally, this was applied only to recent arrivals, but the new interpretation expands its scope considerably.
ICE, which oversees 200 detention facilities nationwide, expects the policy to face legal challenges. In fact, the Northwest Immigrant Rights Project in Seattle has already filed a lawsuit contesting the denial of bond hearings, citing the case of Ramon Rodriguez Vazquez. Rodriguez, a longtime resident of Washington state and grandfather to ten U.S. citizens, was arrested in February 2025 for being in the country without permission. A federal judge ordered a bond hearing, but ultimately denied bond, and Rodriguez has since returned to Mexico. “They are people who have been living here, all they’re doing is trying to make a living for their family,” said Aaron Korthuis, a lawyer involved in the case, calling the government’s new stance “flagrantly unlawful.”
This policy change coincides with a massive increase in federal funding for immigration enforcement. Congress recently passed a spending package allocating $45 billion over four years, allowing ICE to double its detention capacity to 100,000 people daily. As of now, ICE is detaining about 56,000 immigrants each day, with officers conducting nationwide sweeps to fulfill President Trump’s ambitious goal of deporting 1 million people in his first year back in office.
To accommodate this surge, officials have reopened family detention centers previously closed by the Biden administration due to safety concerns and have established new soft-sided facilities—even in remote locations like the Florida Everglades. The expansion has raised alarms among advocates, who argue that detaining immigrants in far-flung, isolated areas makes it far more difficult for them to access legal representation, maintain family connections, or prepare their cases. “It’s requiring the detention of far more people without any real review of their individual circumstances,” said Greg Chen, senior director of government relations for the American Immigration Lawyers Association, in comments to The Washington Post.
Supporters of the policy, however, argue that it closes a loophole in the nation’s immigration laws and ensures equal treatment for all who entered without permission. Homeland Security officials maintain that they are simply enforcing the law as written to keep America safe. Mark Krikorian, executive director of the Center for Immigration Studies, told The Washington Post, “Detention is absolutely the best way to approach this, if you can do it. It costs a lot of money, obviously. You’re pretty much guaranteed to be able to remove the person, if there’s a negative finding, if he’s in detention.”
But the human cost is hard to ignore. Take the story of Hector Madrid Reyes, a contractor from Honduras who had lived in Georgia since arriving as a teenager and was awaiting an asylum hearing. In March 2025, Madrid was rear-ended while driving to Home Depot. During the routine exchange of information, a Georgia State Patrol officer asked for his license. Madrid didn’t have one—public transportation was nonexistent in his area, and driving was a necessity for work. According to The Marshall Project, he was arrested for driving without a license and a DUI charge related to marijuana use the night before. After posting bond, ICE took him to Stewart Detention Center, where a judge denied his release. Facing the prospect of at least a year in detention with his criminal hearing not scheduled until the following summer, Madrid chose to self-deport to Honduras in early July, leaving behind his wife, Jacqueline Maravilla, a U.S. citizen he had married just three weeks before his arrest. “It’s a deep pain,” Madrid told The Marshall Project in Spanish, translated into English. “I am not there with my wife, cannot see my mother and give her a hug, or help them with what I earn from my work. Listening to my wife cry on the phone has been something I do not wish for anyone.”
Madrid’s story is far from unique. Under the Trump administration’s renewed focus on ramping up deportations, the number of people removed from the U.S. for minor offenses has soared. Data analyzed by The Marshall Project shows that the monthly number of people deported whose most serious conviction was a traffic violation—such as driving without a license—has more than tripled in the past six months, reaching nearly 600 in May 2025. Over 1,800 people with traffic violations have been deported this year alone. Strikingly, two-thirds of the more than 120,000 people deported between January and May 2025 had no criminal convictions at all. Only about 12% were convicted of violent or potentially violent crimes.
Advocates argue that this aggressive enforcement contradicts officials’ repeated claims that the focus is on the “worst of the worst” offenders. “It’s not at all about convictions anymore,” said Tim Warden-Hertz, directing attorney of the Northwest Immigrant Rights Project, to The Marshall Project. “There is no discretion. It’s just trying to get as many people as they can, any way that they can.”
The new approach has also raised fears of increased racial profiling. Twenty states have recently passed laws expanding local police involvement in immigration enforcement, and many police departments have signed agreements with the Department of Homeland Security to enforce federal immigration laws during routine stops. “We hear people pulled over for minor reasons, like a broken blinker, crossing the yellow line, or the tint is too dark on windows,” said Paul R. Chavez, director of litigation and advocacy for Americans for Immigrant Justice, in an interview with The Marshall Project. Chavez added, “If you’re pulled over and that’s the only accusation, in my mind that’s pretty clear evidence of racial profiling.”
Despite these concerns, ICE officials have not responded directly to criticisms or requests for comment. The administration’s goal, according to some advisors, is 3,000 ICE arrests daily, though officials deny having a formal quota in place. The numbers, however, tell a story of a system under immense pressure to detain and deport as many people as possible, regardless of their individual circumstances or the seriousness of their alleged offenses.
As the legal battles play out and families like Madrid’s struggle to adapt, the landscape of U.S. immigration enforcement has been fundamentally altered. For many, the fear of a knock on the door—or a routine traffic stop turning into a life-changing event—has never felt more real.