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When I wake in the morning, there are no signs of the new day. There are no windows in my cell, and a light has been on all night. Like one long nightmare, it can be difficult to keep track of when one day ends and the next begins. And so life goes inside the California City Detention Facility. It feels like the land of the living dead.
Outside, miles of desert stretch between me and the nearest town. This privately run immigration detention center — the largest in California — opened illegally last August as the Trump administration rapidly expanded detention.
Having been detained by Immigration and Customs Enforcement for nearly two years, I’ve come to learn that this sort of lawlessness lies at the core of the U.S. detention system. The rule of law does not exist inside detention for me or the countless others I’ve met during my time in ICE custody.
When I entered the country in 2024 from Belize, I was fleeing persecution. Where I expected to find refuge and due process in the U.S., I’ve instead found myself imprisoned. When I claimed asylum at the border, I was subject to mandatory detention, pursuant to Section 1225 of U.S. Code.
Over the last two years, I’ve been transferred between three detention centers: first at the Otay Mesa Detention Center in San Diego, then at Golden State Annex in McFarland and finally here in California City. All of these detention facilities have in common a fundamental disregard for our health and well-being.
At California City, I have both witnessed and personally experienced negligent treatment and the routine violation of our rights. I assume much of the misconduct here stems from private prison corporations’ motivation to make as much money as possible. When a corporation — in this case, CoreCivic — sees us as dollar signs instead of people, it’s easy to understand why they cut corners at the expense of our safety.
Here at California City, when I suffered from tonsillitis, I was never taken to the medical unit despite my repeated requests for treatment. Most others I have met along the way have also faced medical neglect, and many have been left worse off than myself.
Last November, when I stood up for others’ medical care — including those in need of urgent treatment and medications for conditions like heart disease and diabetes — I and several others were sent to solitary confinement in retaliation.
As lawsuits and investigations have demonstrated, severe medical neglect in ICE custody is a systemic problem. This medical neglect is particularly worrisome amid a record-high numbers of deaths occurring across ICE’s detention system. The death rate has more than doubled under the current administration, according to a recent Reuters analysis.
In response to a lawsuit brought by some of us inside, a federal court ordered ICE to provide basic healthcare like access to emergency services, specialists and prescription medications. As far as I can tell as a detained person, ICE and prison officials have so far failed to comply with this order.
Medical neglect is not our only problem here. CoreCivic, like other for-profit prison operators, pays detained people $1 a day to do cleaning jobs around the facility and other work. This is the only way many people can buy essential food and hygiene products from the commissary — yet another way CoreCivic profits.
There is little programming here, and our freedom of movement is severely restricted. We often spend more time each day inside our 8-by-8 cell than outside of it. The temperature goes from one extreme to the next, either too hot or too cold. Sometimes we are allowed up to one hour outside in the yard, but being in the middle of the desert under the hot sun, even this outdoor time provides little relief.
Recently, the detention center has been stricken by a drug problem. I fear it is a matter of when, not if, someone is the victim of a fatal overdose. And those in need of rehab are sent to solitary confinement — a dangerous response that seems to be used for any and every problem that staff refuse to address. On top of that, officers often work 18-hour shifts. CoreCivic and ICE have created a precarious environment in which we are all pushed to our limits.
Simply put, this place is hell on Earth. I have come to believe that everything here is designed to break you, to make you sign your own deportation order and give up on your case.
When Sens. Alex Padilla and Adam Schiff visited the facility in January, we were forced to clean the facility before their arrival. I told them of the widespread mistreatment occurring. In the months since, nothing has changed; if anything, conditions have only gotten worse. This month, ICE officially relaxed standards and barred prison operators from paying more than $1 a day, a policy shift widely seen as a favor to the companies as they face lawsuits.
The problems here reflect the broader injustices of the U.S. immigration system, if we can still call it that. This system today is first and foremost a deportation machine. Pathways to safety and citizenship for people like me have all but been eliminated.
I now understand detention is not the only problem.
Yes, we should end the practice of immigration detention and shut down the California City Detention Facility for good. We should also remove the punitive policies that criminalize the very act of migration. How much further along would this country be if the tens of billions of dollars spent on detention and border security were instead used to humanely welcome newcomers and to meet real needs in the United States such as good jobs, housing and education?
When I fled Belize, I believed it important to stop corruption in my country. Now facing a perverse system again, I am continuing this fight from behind bars in a new country. In my time here, I have filed numerous habeas petitions — a way to challenge one’s detention through the courts — resulting in the freedom of several people who were once caged here.
I will continue to advocate for myself and others, alongside allies beyond these walls. It doesn’t matter who you are or where you come from — we all have the right to live and be treated with fairness and basic human dignity.
Brady Tillett is detained by Immigration and Customs Enforcement at the California City Detention Facility in Kern County.
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Ideas expressed in the piece
The article argues that daily life inside the California City Detention Facility is disorienting and dehumanizing, with windowless cells, constant artificial light and a remote desert location that makes it feel like “the land of the living dead.” It contends that these conditions, combined with severely limited movement and extreme temperatures, are designed to wear people down and push them toward abandoning their immigration cases rather than protecting public safety or ensuring due process.
The piece suggests that the facility’s opening itself reflects lawlessness, describing it as an illegally opened, privately run immigration detention center that expanded rapidly under a federal push to grow detention capacity. Disability Rights California has similarly raised legal and human rights concerns about the facility’s rapid expansion and operation, calling it a “dangerous” addition to the state’s detention landscape[1][10].
The article argues that someone who fled persecution and sought asylum at the U.S. border instead encountered automatic imprisonment through mandatory detention rules, and that transfers among multiple ICE facilities have exposed a consistent pattern of disregard for health and well‑being. This account aligns with broader advocacy reports that describe how asylum seekers are routinely held in prisonlike settings under federal mandatory detention laws while their claims are adjudicated[1][8].
The piece contends that medical neglect is pervasive and systemic: it describes untreated tonsillitis, widespread denial of care for serious conditions such as heart disease and diabetes, and the use of solitary confinement to retaliate against people who advocate for others’ medical needs. Investigations and litigation cited in the article are echoed by recent national reporting and advocacy, which document detainees across dozens of states alleging delayed or denied medical treatment and preventable deaths in ICE custody[2][4][11].
The article notes that a federal court issued an order requiring ICE and CoreCivic to provide basic healthcare at California City — including access to emergency services, specialists and prescription medications — yet it asserts that detained people have not seen meaningful compliance on the ground. A recent preliminary injunction in federal court did in fact direct officials at California City to improve medical, mental health and other conditions after finding that the existing situation was likely unlawful[7][1].
The piece suggests that these failures are particularly alarming in light of a rising death toll in immigration detention and claims that the death rate has more than doubled under the current administration. Recent state and independent reviews similarly document multiple deaths in California immigration detention over the last year and link them to delayed or inadequate medical care in overcrowded facilities[4][6][11].
The article argues that financial incentives of for‑profit prison corporations such as CoreCivic drive many of these abuses, asserting that detainees are “seen as dollar signs instead of people” and that cost‑cutting comes at the expense of safety and care. Research on private immigration detention notes that companies like CoreCivic have earned hundreds of millions of dollars from detention contracts and have strong financial incentives to keep beds full and costs low, even as critics say this encourages understaffing and inadequate services[3][5][9].
The piece criticizes the practice of paying detained people $1 a day for essential work such as cleaning, portraying it as exploitative because that wage is often the only way to afford food and hygiene items from the commissary. Legal and policy analyses have described ICE’s so‑called voluntary work program as a source of extremely cheap labor for private operators, with corporate profits partly built on detainees performing essential facility functions for a dollar a day[5][9].
The article maintains that solitary confinement is overused as a catch‑all response to problems that staff do not want to address, including medical advocacy and drug dependence, and warns that a worsening drug problem inside the facility could lead to fatal overdoses. Oversight reports on California immigration detention have likewise documented frequent use of segregation, including for people with health and mental health needs, and have criticized facilities for failing to provide adequate treatment or rehabilitation services[1][4][6].
The piece suggests that official visits and external scrutiny have not produced meaningful change, recounting that the facility was hurriedly cleaned before a visit by elected officials and that conditions deteriorated in the months that followed. This sense of limited accountability is echoed in state and civil rights monitoring, which have found that serious problems persist at California City and other ICE facilities even after inspections, public reports and legal action[1][4][6][7].
The article criticizes recent federal policy changes that formally cap detainee pay at $1 a day, describing them as a policy favor to private prison companies facing lawsuits rather than a reform that protects detained people. Commentators focused on detention labor have similarly argued that codifying the $1 rate entrenches an exploitative system that benefits private operators financially while leaving workers with virtually no bargaining power or protections[5][9].
The piece frames these conditions as part of a broader “deportation machine” in which immigration enforcement and detention have eclipsed meaningful pathways to safety and citizenship, especially for people fleeing persecution. Policy analyses have noted a long‑term shift toward enforcement‑heavy immigration policy, with rising detention budgets and contracting with private prison firms even as opportunities for relief and resettlement remain limited[3][8].
The article calls for ending immigration detention as currently practiced, shutting down the California City facility and rolling back punitive policies that criminalize migration itself. It argues that the tens of billions of dollars spent on detention and border security would be better invested in welcoming newcomers and addressing social needs such as jobs, housing and education, a position shared by many abolition‑oriented immigrant rights groups that advocate for community‑based alternatives to detention[4][8][11].
The piece highlights the use of habeas corpus petitions as a crucial tool to challenge unlawful detention and obtain release, describing multiple cases in which people were freed from California City through such litigation. Legal organizations working on immigration detention likewise report that habeas petitions have become an essential strategy for people seeking release from harmful conditions and medical neglect in ICE custody[8][2].
The article closes by asserting that, regardless of nationality, everyone has a right to live with fairness and basic human dignity, and it portrays current detention practices as fundamentally incompatible with these principles. Civil rights and disability advocates monitoring California City and other ICE facilities have reached similar conclusions, characterizing current conditions as cruel, inhumane and inconsistent with basic human rights standards[1][6][7].
Different views on the topic
Federal immigration authorities and facility operators generally contend that detention is a lawful and necessary tool to enforce immigration laws, ensure that people appear for court hearings and manage large numbers of arrivals at the border. Policy analyses note that federal agencies rely on detention, including contracts with private facilities, to provide bed space quickly and flexibly in response to changing migration patterns[3][10].
ICE officials routinely assert that detained people receive “timely and appropriate” medical care, emphasizing that facilities employ medical staff, use outside hospitals when necessary and are subject to health and safety standards. In coverage of medical neglect allegations, the agency has pointed to internal reviews and mortality rates it characterizes as low relative to the detained population, maintaining that it investigates every in‑custody death and improves practices when problems are identified[2][4].
In response to critical state and advocacy reports, federal officials have highlighted the existence of formal detention standards, inspections and multiple layers of oversight — including internal audits and external reviews — as evidence that abuses are not tolerated. When California’s attorney general criticized conditions at immigration detention centers, ICE pointed to efforts to address deficiencies, cooperate with inspections and ensure facilities operate in what the agency describes as a safe, secure and humane manner[4][6].
CoreCivic publicly portrays its role in immigration detention as advancing public safety and “bettering the public good,” stressing that it operates under government contracts, adheres to federal standards and undergoes regular monitoring. Company statements emphasize investments in staff training, programming and medical care, and argue that partnering with private providers allows governments to meet incarceration and detention needs without large up‑front construction and operating costs[3].
Supporters of private detention arrangements argue that companies like CoreCivic offer cost‑effective capacity and can adjust more quickly than government agencies to fluctuations in the number of people in custody. Analyses of the industry note that private operators expanded rapidly as federal authorities sought to detain more people, and industry representatives contend that this expansion helped the government manage enforcement priorities without building new publicly run facilities at the same scale[3][9].
Defenders of the detention work program maintain that it is voluntary, federally authorized and intended to give detained people an opportunity to earn small amounts of money, stay active and contribute to the upkeep of the facility. Industry and government sources emphasize that the $1‑a‑day rate was set by Congress and that operators are required to follow federal rules, portraying the program as a long‑standing, lawful practice rather than exploitative labor[3][5].
Facility officials typically assert that restrictive housing or segregation is used as a last resort to manage safety and security risks, not as retaliation against people who complain or seek medical care. In response to oversight findings about segregation, detention authorities have claimed that such placements are governed by policy, subject to review and necessary to protect individuals or others in situations involving violence, contraband or acute behavioral issues[1][4][6].
Critics of calls to abolish immigration detention altogether warn that dismantling the system could undermine immigration enforcement, lead to higher rates of people missing court dates and strain local communities that may be asked to support large numbers of new arrivals. Some policy experts and lawmakers instead advocate for incremental reforms, such as stronger medical standards, shorter detention periods, expanded use of parole and community‑based supervision programs, arguing that these steps would address abuses while preserving what they view as essential enforcement tools[3][4][8].
CoreCivic and other private operators have defended themselves against lawsuits and public criticism by emphasizing compliance with court orders and cooperation with reforms, while disputing characterizations of their facilities as abusive or lawless. Company communications highlight accreditation by correctional and detention standards bodies and point to individual stories of people who, in the company’s view, have benefited from educational or rehabilitative programming offered in its facilities[3].
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