Punished for Playing by the Rules: the Deliberate Cruelty of Trump’s Deportation Regime

Joselyn Chipantiza-Sisalema, 20, dressed in a red shirt and blue jeans on a Tuesday morning in June and took the subway from Bushwick to Lower Manhattan. She walked into the Jacob Javits Federal building at 26 Federal Plaza, a few blocks north of City Hall, took her keys and phone out of her pockets to pass through security, and got in an elevator up to the 12th-floor courtroom of Judge Donald Thompson. Like the vast majority of people appearing in immigration court, she had no lawyer with her. Chipantiza-Sisalema’s parents and younger brother had made the brutal journey from Ecuador to the United States in 2022, part of an increasing number of Ecuadorans propelled north as their country destabilized. They settled in New York—where a large Ecuadoran population has been part of the city since the 1970s—and filed a claim for asylum. Chipantiza-Sisalema joined her parents last year, crossing into the US at El Paso in May 2024. In the volatile political climate in Ecuador, she had faced threats and stalking, her father later told reporters. Immigration officials in El Paso determined Chipantiza-Sisalema was not a flight risk or a danger to the community, so she was permitted to go on to New York to her family and told to appear in court more than a year later. She followed the rules.

The June 24 hearing at 26 Federal Plaza was her first immigration hearing. It was brief. Judge Thompson scheduled her next date for March 2026. But when Chipantiza-Sisalema stepped out of the courtroom to return home, masked men grabbed her. She was hustled down to the 10th floor of the courthouse. She would remain there for nine days—without being charged or ever given the opportunity to contest her detention, without access to an attorney, sleeping on the floor, with minimal food and nowhere to bathe. In hasty one-minute phone calls, Chipantiza-Sisalema told her parents there were at least 70 other people there. The small number of holding cells in the federal building are meant to be used just for a few hours before someone is transferred to a different facility, attorneys familiar with the building explained. There is no provision for meals and no beds. When she was put on a plane and transferred to the for-profit Richwood Detention facility in Louisiana on the Fourth of July—before a New York judge had a chance to review the habeas corpus petition an attorney filed the day before—she was still wearing that same red shirt and blue jeans.

The overwhelming majority of immigrants whose cases are winding through the immigration court system show up for their hearings, believing that by adhering to the system’s labyrinthine requirements they’ll be rewarded with clearance to stay in the country. Or at least the chance to fight another day. But under President Donald Trump’s aggressive deportation regime, abiding by the immigration system’s rules has become increasingly dangerous. Those who show up in court now routinely face arrest. But failure to appear for a hearing generally triggers a deportation order, attorneys explained. Immigrants, advocates, and elected officials at all levels are scrambling to confront what they say is lawlessness inside the courthouse and throughout the ICE detention system. “ICE is just detaining everyone and giving only some a right to a hearing, and it’s only the possibility of having a lawyer who will shout and scream for you that your case is heard,” said Melissa Chua, an attorney at the pro bono New York Legal Assistance Group, who is representing several people who, despite following US immigration procedure, are now in detention.

Chipantiza-Sisalema is just one of hundreds of people taken in the past month by masked ICE agents at Manhattan’s immigration courts, Harold Solis, co–legal director for the Brooklyn-based immigrant rights group Make the Road New York, told The Nation. “The truth is, I don’t think anyone has a full scope of how many people have been held there.” Make the Road is now representing Chipantiza-Sisalema. Similar scenes have played out in courthouses across the country, with immigrants often shuttled between several facilities before their family or attorney can locate them. Beginning in April, it appeared to court observers in Manhattan that ICE was lying in wait for people whose cases were dismissed or who were ordered to be deported. Veteran attorneys say courthouse arrests had previously been extremely unusual. “In all my years of practice, it has never been a fact of life that going to immigration court leads to you being detained,” Solis said. By late June, ICE was routinely taking people even when, like Chipantiza-Sisalema, US immigration judges had ordered them to reappear several months in the future.

“People are being disappeared into this hole of 26 Federal Plaza for a prolonged period of time and in deplorable conditions,” said Kendal Nystedt, an attorney at the rights group Unlocal whose client was held there for six days. The New York Immigration Coalition is representing someone held for three weeks, executive director Murad Awawdeh said. The vast majority, maybe as many as 99 percent, according to a close court watcher who asked not to be identified because of the nature of her work, do not have an attorney.

“If you’re someone without a family member or no one has alerted us to you, there is no way for us to know what has happened,” said Chua. “They are really creating this shadow place that can deny people protections they are afforded by our Constitution.”

In the chaotic seconds as immigrants exit courtrooms, volunteer observers hastily attempt to catch people’s names, alien registration numbers, and contacts for family members before ICE strongarms them into elevators and out of sight. The hope is that by collecting people’s names, their families will be able to find out where they are sent. A diffuse mutual aid network raises commissary funds, tries to connect people to counsel, and offers support to families left behind—often without a breadwinner. Ordinarily when someone is detained, they show up in the ICE detainee locator in a mattered of hours, attorneys said. But those held at 26 Federal Plaza and in irregular detention in courthouses elsewhere are listed only as “in transit” for the days-long duration of their stay. In this limbo state, their lawyers and families can’t reach them.

Chua and other attorneys emphasized that the spectacle of ICE sweeping people up in courthouses was a dramatic departure from norms—even in an immigration system hardly characterized by transparency or compassion. Several members of New York’s congressional delegation, including Representatives Adriano Espaillat, Daniel Goldman, Jerrold Nadler, and Nydia Velasquez, have tried to find out how many people are held at 26 Federal Plaza—and to assess conditions. They’ve all been rebuffed.

In a surreal, Kakfaesque incident, Bill Joyce, deputy director of the New York ICE field office, told Representatives Goldman and Nadler in June that the 10th floor of 26 Federal Plaza—where a shifting number of immigrants are held against their will for days on end—is not a detention facility. Rather, it is a place ICE is “housing [immigrants] until they can be detained.” Members of Congress have a right to inspect places where people are detained, but not, Joyce argued, a place they are merely “held.” On July 14, Espaillat and Velasquez were again prevented from inspecting the facility. The lawmakers are considering legal action against the Department of Homeland Security for preventing them from exercising their oversight rights, Espaillat said.

That people are held within a courthouse in a sanctuary city that considers itself the capital of immigrant America is an affront that has New York lawmakers searching for solutions. “We’re fighting this from the legal front and the budgeting front and the legislative front. And we’re fighting this in public opinion,” Espaillat said. Likewise, New York City Public Advocate Jumaane Williams said his office is seeking litigation in support and praised the efforts of court observers. A coalition of immigrants rights groups in Washington, DC, filed a class action suit in federal district court in DC on July 17, alleging that the courthouse arrests are a violation of due process. New York groups could soon follow.