In the heart of Florida’s Everglades, a sprawling immigrant detention center known colloquially as “Alligator Alcatraz” has become a focal point of controversy, legal battles, and environmental concerns since its rapid opening earlier this summer. Situated within the Big Cypress National Preserve near the Everglades National Park, this facility—designed to house up to 3,000 detainees—has sparked fierce opposition from tribal groups, environmental advocates, immigration attorneys, and lawmakers alike.
The Miccosukee Tribe, whose ancestral lands and villages lie adjacent to the facility, joined forces with environmental organizations in mid-July to file a lawsuit against federal and state agencies responsible for the center’s construction. They argue that the Department of Homeland Security, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), Miami-Dade County, and Florida’s Division of Emergency Management failed to conduct a required environmental review before building the detention camp on an abandoned airstrip once slated to become the world’s largest airport.
William “Popeye” James Osecola, secretary of the Miccosukee tribal council, expressed deep concern about the center’s proximity to active tribal villages and sacred ceremonial sites. “We are going to make sure that we fight this facility on whatever front is available to us,” he said, emphasizing the tribe’s commitment to protecting the land that has sustained them for generations. Since the facility began operations, tribal members have reportedly been prevented from gathering medicinal plants and roots from their traditional hunting grounds. “At the moment, it’s the first time we’ve ever seen gates like that there, so it’s very jarring for us,” Osecola added.
Environmentalists have also raised alarms about the ecological impact of the center. The Center for Biological Diversity filed a legal notice alleging violations of the Clean Water Act and the Endangered Species Act. Among their concerns are light pollution from around-the-clock lighting that attracts swarms of mosquitoes, and the use of insecticides that may harm the Everglades’ delicate wildlife, including critically endangered Florida panthers. Satellite imagery has revealed freshly paved roads and increased traffic, which could further disrupt the fragile ecosystem.
Florida Governor Ron DeSantis has staunchly defended the facility, claiming at a June press conference that there would be “zero impact” on the wetlands. The state spent just eight days erecting the makeshift camp on a little-used airfield, employing tents to house detainees and generators to power the site. The annual operating cost is estimated at $450 million, with some reimbursement from the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA). Yet critics note that the cost per detainee far exceeds that of state prisons or ICE detention centers, and that no-bid contracts were awarded, some to Republican political donors.
“No lawbreakers in the history of human civilization have been treated better than illegal aliens in the United States, and yet all they do is complain,” said Tricia McLaughlin, a Department of Homeland Security spokesperson. Meanwhile, the state has paused plans to build additional detention centers until Alligator Alcatraz reaches capacity, with DeSantis stating, “I’d rather just channel everyone to Alligator.”
Beyond environmental and political disputes, the center has faced intense scrutiny over its treatment of detainees. Reports from inside paint a bleak picture. Detainees describe overcrowded tents with no pencils, books, or televisions; leaking shelters that let bugs in during frequent rains; constant bright lighting disrupting sleep; and meals often reduced to cold ham sandwiches or light snacks. Many suffer from sleep deprivation and flulike symptoms, and some have been denied access to necessary medication. One detainee, Rick Herrera, described the facility as a “tinderbox,” reflecting the tense and volatile atmosphere.
Legal advocates have filed a lawsuit alleging that detainees are being denied access to their attorneys. Michael Borrego, a Cuban national detained since early July, has reportedly been unable to meet with his immigration lawyer despite repeated attempts. His mother said his attorney waited three hours outside the center without being allowed entry. The complaint details the lack of confidential communication protocols, with detainees only able to make infrequent, monitored collect calls lasting around five minutes. Unlike ICE custody, there is no online locator to track detainees, making it difficult for families and lawyers to find them.
Borrego’s case is particularly troubling. After undergoing surgery at a local hospital, he was returned to the detention center where he reportedly did not receive prescribed antibiotics. Due to the heat and humidity inside the tents, his surgical site became infected, causing pus and severe pain. The American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), representing Borrego and others, called the facility “an attack on common decency” and a violation of constitutional rights, emphasizing detainees’ fundamental right to legal counsel and humane treatment.
The facility’s remote location was deliberately chosen for its harsh environment, which includes swamps, alligators, and invasive Burmese pythons. Florida Attorney General James Uthmeier once remarked, “You don’t need to invest that much in the perimeter. People get out, there’s not much waiting for them other than alligators and pythons.” While alligator attacks on humans have been documented—with 489 attacks and 31 fatalities in Florida since 1948—there have been no recorded deaths from Burmese pythons, though these snakes and alligators do prey on each other in the Everglades ecosystem. The facility’s surroundings are also home to venomous snakes, black bears, and endangered Florida panthers.
Staffing the center has also been a challenge. Guards hired by private contractors reportedly earn $26 per hour with overtime rates of $39, higher than typical Florida prison guards. Yet former employees describe grueling 12-hour shifts with limited breaks, backed-up portable toilets, cold meals, and long, hazardous walks to latrines due to wildlife. Mosquito swarms plague both detainees and staff, with detainees often lacking adequate repellents or protective gear. Some guards left the job early, citing poor conditions and management.
Lawmakers visiting the facility have offered starkly contrasting accounts. Republican officials described the camp as clean and well-run, with comfortable beds and ample logistics. Conversely, Democratic lawmakers criticized the tour as “sanitized” and staged, reporting detainees shackled in orange jumpsuits, crammed into cages, and deprived of basic necessities. Some lawmakers were denied unannounced visits and have since sued for access to conduct independent inspections.
The detainee population is predominantly Hispanic, with many lacking criminal convictions. Some were transferred from local jails following minor infractions such as traffic violations; others came from ICE custody. The facility operates under Florida’s 287(g) program, allowing local law enforcement to detain migrants on behalf of ICE, though detainees at Alligator Alcatraz do not appear in ICE’s public database, complicating oversight and family contact.
Adding to the controversy, a 15-year-old minor was briefly detained at the center despite it not being designed to house juveniles. The teen has since been transferred to the Office of Refugee Resettlement.
As the 2025 Florida Python Challenge continues—an event incentivizing the capture of invasive Burmese pythons—the detention center stands as a stark symbol of the state’s aggressive immigration policies and the complex interplay of environmental, legal, and humanitarian issues in one of America’s most unique ecosystems.
With the facility’s future uncertain and plans for expansion on hold, the debate over Alligator Alcatraz encapsulates broader questions about immigration enforcement, indigenous rights, environmental stewardship, and human dignity in the modern era.
