By John Q. Hosedrinker 
A Canadian citizen, working legally in the US on a NAFTA visa, was unexpectedly detained by ICE and held for two weeks without explanation. Despite having no criminal record and possessing a valid visa, she was subjected to a pat-down, interrogated, and transferred between detention centers, experiencing harsh conditions and witnessing the struggles of other detainees. Many of these women, also lacking criminal records, faced prolonged detention due to bureaucratic inefficiencies and the profit-driven nature of private detention facilities. The author’s experience highlights the systemic issues within ICE detention, exposing the suffering of countless individuals caught in a flawed system.
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Being detained by ICE for two weeks felt like a kidnapping. It started so abruptly, a complete shock after my work visa was unexpectedly revoked. I was never given a clear explanation, just thrust into the system and left to navigate its complexities alone. The lack of communication was astounding; I repeatedly pleaded with officers to let me pay for my own flight home, but my requests were met with silence.
My pleas for help were ignored, and the whole process felt deliberately obfuscated. My lawyer later learned I could have left sooner had I signed a withdrawal form – information that was never relayed to me by my ICE agent, someone who never even spoke directly to me. This deliberate lack of communication seemed designed to prolong my detention.
The conditions of detention themselves were brutal. The facilities felt designed for profit, not for the well-being of those imprisoned. The whole system was a Kafkaesque nightmare where the goal was to maximize profits rather than to administer justice fairly or efficiently. The more people in detention, the more money these private facilities made. It’s a cruel business model that traps vulnerable individuals in a seemingly endless cycle.
The reality of for-profit detention centers became devastatingly clear. Companies like CoreCivic and GEO Group are handsomely rewarded based on the number of detainees. This financial incentive inherently discourages swift resolutions; the longer people remain detained, the more these companies earn. The millions raked in annually by these firms underscore the perverse financial incentives at play.
My experience solidified the understanding that this is not just bureaucratic ineptitude, but a deliberate business strategy designed for profit maximization, regardless of the human cost. The system is designed to prolong detention, making it a harrowing and expensive experience.
The anger and disbelief this sparked within me are almost unbearable. I’m far from alone in my outrage. Many people are cancelling trips to the U.S., terrified of facing a similar ordeal. My brother, a U.S. citizen, is now hyper-vigilant, carrying his passport constantly, fearing the arbitrary nature of ICE enforcement. This fear is completely justified; the randomness of my detention speaks volumes about the instability and danger of the U.S. immigration system.
This is not simply a matter of political disagreement; this is human rights abuse. The U.S. government’s actions towards even its closest allies are alarming and have shattered decades of goodwill. The disregard for individual rights is blatant, the cruelty seems intentional.
It’s chilling to think about the individuals caught up in this system who aren’t in a position to share their stories, or don’t have the resources to fight back. The vulnerability of those seeking asylum is particularly unsettling, caught in a system that prioritizes profit over human dignity.
The sheer scale of this issue is terrifying. I fear that this is just the tip of the iceberg, a glimpse into a system that is inherently unjust and inhumane. I have no intentions of returning to the U.S. under this system. The risks far outweigh any benefits.
The casual cruelty in my detention is a wake-up call. The indifference of the officers, the lack of communication, the profit-driven nature of the detention centers—it all points towards a system that has lost its way. The solution isn’t simply political; it’s a matter of fundamental human rights and the need for radical reform of the U.S. immigration system. The focus needs to shift from maximizing profit to protecting the rights and welfare of individuals.
The current system is not only broken, it’s actively harming people, and it needs to change before more innocent people are unjustly imprisoned. My story is not unique. The U.S. needs to reckon with the brutal reality of its immigration system, and implement reforms that prioritize human rights over corporate profits. Otherwise, incidents like mine will continue to occur, perpetuating the cycle of fear and injustice.