In the heart of Florida’s Everglades, a sprawling immigration detention facility—dubbed “Alligator Alcatraz”—is on the brink of closure after a whirlwind of legal battles, political wrangling, and fierce public outcry. The center, officially known as the Dade-Collier Training and Transition Airport detention site in Ochopee, was hastily converted in July 2025 with the capacity to house up to 5,000 detainees. Now, just two months later, state officials confirm it will likely be empty within days, signaling a dramatic end to one of the nation’s most controversial immigration enforcement projects.
Florida Division of Emergency Management Executive Director Kevin Guthrie set the tone in an August 22 email to South Florida Rabbi Mario Rojzman, stating, “we are probably going to be down to 0 individuals within a few days.” The Associated Press verified the authenticity of this exchange, and both Rojzman and his assistant confirmed Guthrie’s statement. The rapid depopulation comes as the facility faces mounting legal and environmental challenges, with a federal judge ordering its operations wound down by late October.
Governor Ron DeSantis, a key proponent of the state’s aggressive immigration policies, acknowledged the dwindling detainee population but was quick to attribute it to an uptick in deportations by the Department of Homeland Security (DHS). “Ultimately it's DHS's decision where they want to process and stage detainees and it's their decision about when they want to bring them out,” DeSantis told reporters in Orlando, according to The Washington Post. He suggested the ongoing litigation “may be an influence” on the pace of deportations, but insisted, “Who they send in or don't send in is on their decision.”
Yet, the federal government has painted a different picture in court filings, asserting, “any decision to detain unauthorized immigrants at the center would be Florida's decision, not DHS's.” The filings emphasize that the facility operates “using state funds on state lands under state emergency authority.” This back-and-forth underscores the murky lines of responsibility between state and federal agencies in the high-stakes world of immigration enforcement.
The center’s closure comes on the heels of a forceful ruling from U.S. District Judge Kathleen Williams of Miami. On August 27, she refused to pause her order requiring Alligator Alcatraz’s shutdown while the federal government appeals. “Defendants rehash the same general arguments about the importance of immigration enforcement they presented during the Preliminary Injunction Hearing,” Williams wrote, according to The Phoenix. “As Defendants provide no new evidence or argument about the particular dangerousness of the detainee population at the TNT site or the need for a detention facility in this particular location, the Court will not repeat the shortcomings of Defendants’ claims here.”
Judge Williams’ injunction, issued six days earlier, barred new detainees from entering the facility and gave authorities 60 days to transfer out those remaining. The order also required the removal of temporary infrastructure—fencing, lighting, generators, and waste receptacles—installed to support the project. The ruling capped off months of legal challenges spearheaded by environmental groups and the Miccosukee Tribe of Indians of Florida, who argued the state failed to conduct federally mandated environmental assessments before construction. Their lawsuit claimed the site threatened sensitive wetlands, endangered native species, and jeopardized decades of costly Everglades restoration efforts.
By late August, the population at Alligator Alcatraz had plummeted from a peak of about 1,400 detainees to just 300 to 350, according to U.S. Representative Maxwell Frost, who toured the facility on August 20. Frost reported in legal documents that ICE had advised it now only needed space for 72-hour holds and that “ICE decides everything that occurs at the facility.” The Department of Homeland Security confirmed to The Phoenix that detainees were being transferred out: “DHS is complying with this order and moving detainees to other facilities. We will continue to fight tooth-and-nail to remove the worst of the worst from American streets.”
Despite the legal mandate, the federal government warned of potential fallout. Garrett Ripa, Miami field office director for DHS, cautioned, “Without this facility and its detention capacity, many of these individuals would either be released back into the community or not arrested at all, placing significant strain on local communities.” He pointed to public safety risks, noting, “The inability to detain criminal aliens due solely to a lack of detention space creates a serious public safety risk.”
The state’s investment in the facility was staggering. Florida authorities signed more than $245 million in contracts for construction and operation, with the largest—$78.5 million—awarded to Jacksonville-based Critical Response Strategies for staffing. Longview Solutions Group received $25.6 million for site preparation and construction, while IT company Gothams secured $21.1 million for access badges and detainee wristbands. The camp itself was erected in just eight days, a feat critics say came at the expense of environmental safeguards and detainee rights.
Civil rights attorneys and advocacy groups have documented “severe problems” inside the center. Detainees were reportedly held for weeks without charges, some vanished from ICE’s online locator system, and initial custody or bond determinations were not being made. Accounts surfaced of poor sanitation—worms in the food, toilets that didn’t flush, flooding floors with fecal waste, and swarms of mosquitoes. Florida Representative Debbie Schultz voiced concern, telling The Economic Times, “The fact that we're going to have 3,000 people detained in tents, in the Everglades, in the middle of the hot Florida summer, during hurricane season, this is a bad idea all around that needs to be opposed and stopped.”
Governor DeSantis, for his part, has not wavered in his call for more detention space. He cited ongoing construction of a second facility in Baker County, northeast Florida, with a planned capacity of 1,300 detainees. “Our role is to provide more space for processing detention leading into deportation,” DeSantis said, underscoring the state’s commitment to supporting federal immigration enforcement even as the Everglades facility shutters.
The battle over Alligator Alcatraz has become a flashpoint in the national debate over immigration, environmental stewardship, and the balance of power between state and federal authorities. As the last detainees leave and the fences come down, the saga leaves behind lingering questions: Can large-scale immigration enforcement coexist with environmental protection? Who bears ultimate responsibility for the consequences—intended and unintended—of such projects?
For now, the Everglades will soon be free of its most controversial tenant, but the legal, political, and ecological reverberations of Alligator Alcatraz’s brief existence are sure to echo far beyond Florida’s swamps.
