In the heart of downtown Los Angeles, a federal immigration building housed behind security detail by U.S. Marines witnesses a daily flurry of relatives seeking solace. From early morning, diverse families, alongside their legal representatives, navigate through a dimly lit garage to a grim stairwell where they hope to reconnect with loved ones detained by immigration authorities.
For immigrants apprehended in Southern California, their initial destination is the local Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) processing hub located in the building’s basement. Here, agents confirm personal details and collect biometric data before transferring individuals to various detention centers. Above the basement, hopeful immigrants form queues for services such as green card renewals and asylum applications.
One recent morning, the basement area saw families bringing medicine and clothes, holding out hope for a fleeting reunion. However, frustration stemmed from the long waits and instances of relatives being turned away without any definite news, sometimes hearing harrowing accounts of detainees drinking from toilets in desperation. ICE remained silent in the face of these reports.
Protests erupted just weeks before around the building, stirred by aggressive Los Angeles raids, sparking heated messages on the walls against then-President Donald Trump. Those ensnared hailed from countries including Mexico, Iran, China, and several others—a snapshot of the cultural mosaic that forms the county’s foreign-born populace, which constitutes about a third of its 10 million inhabitants.
News of arrests frequently spreads online through circulated footage of masked officers detaining individuals by workplace parking lots and neighborhood vendors. As visiting hours approached at 8 a.m., families and attorneys lingered outside a basement door marked “B-18,” anxiously awaiting any shred of information on their detained loved ones.
By mid-morning, poignant stories surfaced, like that of Christina Jimenez, searching for her stepfather who frequented a Home Depot job site. Despite futile attempts to locate him in official systems, fortuitous notification of his detention followed a mere two days post-arrest, causing profound family distress over his potential deportation.
Equally concerning was Estrella Rosas and her mother unaware of their U.S. citizen sister’s predicament. Mistakenly detained from a workplace drop-off, this encounter fed into fears of racial profiling. Although barring was swift, emotional scarring lingered, magnified by accusations of obstructing officers which the family strongly denied.
As time progressed, more hopefuls gathered, exchanging vital information, such as detainee numbers needed for legal help and account money for phone calls. Legal representatives like Kim Carver expressed frustration over the chaotic system compounded by the harrowing transfer of clients between states.
Throughout the day, emotions ranged from frustration to relief. Families like Jasmin Camacho Picazo experienced desperation as their loved ones grappled with harsh conditions like inadequate hydration and distress over resolved possessions at the time of arrest.
By mid-afternoon, a mix of relief and uncertainty filled the air as some managed brief moments with detainees, while others eagerly awaited any chance of the same. For many, the fear of mismanaged cases or mistaken deportations loomed heavily.
As the specific visitation period neared its end, tension soared with families challenging the agency staff, painfully aware that their loved ones’ fates now teetered on the precipice of an unresponsive bureaucracy.
For many families, the day ended with a mix of lingering hope and growing uncertainty, the stairwell retaining their echoes of anxieties and aspirations for as long as needed—for tomorrow brought with it another day of untold outcomes.