With shaking hands, Joseph scribbled down four phone numbers on a sheet of paper, as he prepared to go to his annual check-in with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. He knew he might not return home, and he wanted the numbers of his girlfriend, his pastor, a friend and his eldest daughter in case he was arrested.
The 52-year-old Venezuelan immigrant, who asked that his full name not be used because of his lack of permanent legal status, said he had ruminated for months about what might happen during the annual check-in, which is usually just a review of documents. He had only slept four hours in the two days ahead of the appointment.
“I’m trying to block all the bad thoughts, but deep inside I’m still afraid,” said Joseph, who has resided in the United States for more than 20 years, including over a decade in New York City.
For Joseph and thousands of immigrants in New York and nationwide, ICE check-ins used to be routine affairs: short appointments meant to confirm their address and contact information. That was the case even for immigrants facing deportation; most just weren’t considered a priority for removal.
That has changed under President Donald Trump. Immigrants are being detained more often during check-ins, sometimes without warning, according to immigrant advocates and attorneys. That’s even been the case for immigrants who have been living in the country for decades without authorization, and those without criminal histories, lawyers say.
Immigrants and their advocates decry the practice of detaining people at the mandatory appointments, saying it penalizes immigrants who are complying with federal rules. Those who skip their appointment can be ordered deported or sought after and arrested by ICE.
“It really is a travesty. You tell people to follow the process, and following the process is going to ensure that when your time comes, you have the opportunity to move forward,” said Murad Awawdeh, president and CEO of the nonprofit New York Immigration Coalition. “And then what you end up seeing is the administration using the entirety of the immigration system to deliver on their horrible mass deportation agenda.”
The nonprofit New York Legal Assistance Group has taken on dozens of clients detained at check-ins since Trump returned to the White House, according to Melissa Chua, director of the organization’s immigration practice. New York City attorney Robert Tsigler said his firm’s immigration practice has handled between five and 10 such cases.
The Legal Aid Society has also taken on a handful of such cases this year, according to Deborah Lee, head of the group’s immigration unit. Legal Services NYC is representing about 10 such clients this year, for the first time in its 60-year history, according to the organization.
“ What should be an easy process now can be the beginning of a nightmare,” said Elora Mukherjee, director of the Immigrants’ Rights Clinic at Columbia Law School, which is representing two asylum-seekers detained at ICE check-ins in Newark.
Just how many have been detained at their ICE appointments isn’t clear. Spokespeople for ICE and the Department of Homeland Security did not respond to requests for comment. But Trump officials have defended the practice of detaining immigrants in federal buildings, where immigrants appear for immigration court and ICE check-ins.
The DHS officials contend that arrests inside government buildings are safer there than on the streets. The latter was on display last week on Canal Street in Chinatown, where federal agents detained several street vendors the officials said were in the country without authorization.
Officers were seen wrestling street vendors to the ground, dragging them down the street, and pushing them against walls on Tuesday in a chaotic scene that drew protesters and was captured in videos that quickly appeared in social media and news broadcasts.
By contrast, more than half of the over 3,300 people detained by ICE this year in New York City were arrested at the sprawling federal office building at 26 Federal Plaza. It’s unclear how many of those arrests took place at the first-floor ICE check-in office, mostly beyond the view of the general public.
Some high-profile arrests across the country have helped spread the word that check-ins were no longer routine. Several asylum-seekers believed to be deported to a mega-prison in El Salvador earlier this year had been arrested at ICE check-ins. Kilmar Abrego Garcia, a Maryland man who a federal judge determined was wrongfully deported to El Salvador in March, was arrested at an ICE check-in after his return to the United States.
Preparing for the worst
Joseph prepared for the worst-case scenario ahead of his ICE check-in in the city’s civic center in Lower Manhattan. He left a spare key for his apartment with his pastor, the Rev. Juan Carlos Ruiz, who would also drive him to the appointment. A friend would help pay for a lawyer and for his bond. His phone, wallet and everything else, Joseph said, would be left in his car; the only item on his person would be the sheet of paper with phone numbers.
He said in interviews he hoped to return to his regular life. He worked as a receptionist at two churches and has three adult daughters, two of whom he says are U.S. citizens. Although he prayed every morning and evening, he said, worry still kept him awake at night.
Joseph had previously been convicted of identity fraud; he said he stole someone’s social security number, which he then used for work purposes. He served nearly two years in prison, before being transferred to ICE and held for nearly another two years.
In the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, Joseph said he was released from ICE detention in a wheelchair, due to diabetes-related medical complications. He was released on the condition that he attend annual check-ins to confirm his location and that he wasn’t a flight or security risk.
Joseph said he had flashbacks of his time in ICE detention, in the days and weeks ahead of his scheduled appointment. Pasta reminded him of ramen he bought at the commissary. A bathroom trip recalled the stench from the communal toilet. And he remembers scenes of people fighting for food, or to watch television.
“When you come out of detention, you feel broken,” Joseph said. “Then those thoughts are coming back again.” Joseph said a friend, a Chinese immigrant, recently decided to skip his required check-in.
But Joseph said he promised God he wouldn’t break the law again; he had to do “what is right.”
Appointment day at 26 Federal Plaza
After leaving his pastor’s car the morning of his ICE check-in, Joseph remembered he had left something behind – the list of important phone numbers. Ruiz slipped Joseph a sheet of paper with his own phone number, and Joseph tucked it away in his pocket.
“Don’t be scared,” the pastor said, as the both men prepared to go through security at 26 Federal Plaza. The 41-floor government building at the heart of the city’s civic core has become an epicenter of Trump’s immigration crackdown in New York City.
ICE officers routinely arrest people leaving immigration court on the 12th and 14th floors, who are often surrounded by photographers and journalists. Meanwhile, other ICE officers quietly detain people like Joseph who attend check-ins on the first floor.
Many people mistakenly go to the first floor check-in window for ICE when they intend to visit immigration court, several floors above. At one point while Joseph waited, a female ICE officer addressed the growing line of immigrants.
“ If you're not here for ICE, you’ve got to figure out where you're supposed to go,” she said. “Because this is only for ICE.”
The setting had changed since Joseph’s appointment a year ago: Portraits of Trump and Vice President JD Vance hung on the wall just outside the check-in office, on either side of the building’s main welcome sign.
Inside the check-in room, Room 102, Spanish and English fliers promoted a government app that enables immigrants to self-deport, noting in big letters that it is “FREE” to use.
“This particular morning,” Joseph said. “It’s a test of my faith.”
After an hour waiting in a crowded lobby with others appearing for their appointments, Joseph and his pastor were escorted to an ICE officer waiting on the other side of a plastic divider.
Their meeting lasted all of about 15 minutes. When the pair emerged, relieved, they said Joseph was told he could remain free — for now.
Joseph received a form that instructed him to report back — for another check-in in six months, instead of the usual year. That’s common, immigration attorneys say; ICE is requiring more people to check-in and to do so more frequently.
Joseph also left with a green sticky note, with an email address where he was directed to send his medical information.
Later, in the car back home, Joseph said the officer “seemed nice.”
His pastor replied, “But… you can be sweet with your mouth and at the same time stab you, you know?”
“Yeah, well it’s true. That’s the culture here.” Joseph said, shaking his head. “That’s the culture here. ”
The pair started discussing preparations for Joseph’s next check-in – in the spring.
This story was updated with additional information.
