The evolution of ICE and the human cost of enforcement
Since its creation in 2003, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) has grown into one of the most powerful and controversial agencies in American law enforcement. Established after the 9/11 attacks to safeguard national security, it has instead become a symbol of fear for millions of immigrants, accused of tearing families apart and disregarding basic rights.
The stories of parents deported with sick children, long-term residents detained without due process, and communities living in uncertainty highlight a profound social dilemma. In this article, a Kazinform News Agency correspondent explores the issue and the social dilemma the United States faces.
In its early years, ICE was tasked with a broad mandate that went far beyond border security. Its authority extended to investigating human trafficking, drug smuggling, and international crime networks, while also carrying out immigration enforcement inside the United States. Over time, however, the agency’s most visible function became large-scale detention and deportation, making it the focal point of national debates on immigration and human rights.
In practice, public visibility centered on detention and deportation. Between October 2014 and November 2024, ICE recorded about 3.62 million “book-ins” into detention, averaging roughly 324,900 per year, with a peak in 2019 (510,850) and a pandemic low in 2020 (182,870). Mexicans accounted for 31.1% of detainees (about 1,124,040), followed by Guatemalans (17.1%) and Hondurans (12.8%). ICE reports that from October 2018 to November 2024, about 29% of detainees had U.S. criminal records; in 2024, 43.8% of those convictions were misdemeanors, 35.2% felonies and 17.0% aggravated felonies.
Why did ICE become so widely disliked by affected communities? Critics point to the agency’s heavy reliance on detention, speed of removals, and use of routine check-ins as arrest points; families describe isolation, rushed paperwork, and limited access to lawyers. Supporters argue that ICE enforces the law and targets threats. The tension sharpened as high-profile cases multiplied and families with U.S.-citizen children were placed on flights before custody arrangements could be made.
Families in crisis - “There were no real decisions”
Two Honduran mothers—each with U.S.-citizen children—were detained at routine check-ins at ICE’s New Orleans office and flown to Honduras in April. Their lawyer, Gracie Willis of the National Immigration Project, said the women were kept in “complete isolation,” unable to call counsel or relatives: “Here we had moms held completely in isolation, being told what was happening to their children. They didn’t have an opportunity to talk this through, to weigh the pros and cons of taking or leaving their children in the U.S.”
One mother was deported with her seven-year-old and four-year-old; the younger child, a U.S. citizen, has a rare form of late-stage cancer. The other woman, who is pregnant, was placed on a plane with her 11-year-old and two-year-old daughters while the children’s father and a designated caretaker tried, unsuccessfully, to reach them.
“She’s in the early stages of a pregnancy and has undergone unimaginable stress,” Willis said. “There were no real decisions being made here, especially when those parents were not able to communicate with other available caregivers.”
After emergency filings, a federal judge reviewing the case of the two-year-old—identified as VML—said he had a “strong suspicion that the government just deported a U.S. citizen with no meaningful process.” The judge underscored: “It is illegal and unconstitutional to deport, detain for deportation, or recommend deportation of a U.S. citizen.”
ICE and DHS officials counter that parents are given choices. DHS assistant secretary Tricia McLaughlin said: “Parents are asked if they want to be removed with their children or ICE will place the children with someone the parent designates. In this case, the parent stated they wanted to be removed with the children.” The families’ lawyers dispute that this reflects real consent, noting a handwritten note obtained under pressure and the lack of time to arrange custody.
Rosario, one of the mothers later suing in Louisiana, summed up the aftermath: “After so many years in the United States, it has been devastating to be sent to Honduras. Life in Honduras is incredibly hard. I don’t have the resources to care for my children the way they need.”
Julia, another plaintiff, said: “I was lied to. I never imagined they would send me and my children to Honduras. Returning has meant leaving my husband behind… We were deprived of the opportunity to be and make decisions as a family.”
Their cases echo others. In Tampa, Heidy Sánchez, a Cuban-born mother and wife of a U.S. citizen, was detained at a scheduled check-in and flown to Cuba two days later. Her lawyer, Claudia Cañizares, said ICE refused to accept filings before the removal despite the child’s medical issues: “Sánchez is not a criminal and has a strong case on humanitarian grounds.”
Beyond the border: Courthouse arrests and a scientist in limbo
ICE’s reach extends into courthouses and airports. A new litigation wave challenges arrests that occur immediately after hearings—sometimes when cases are dismissed. A class action in Washington, D.C., details 12 immigrants from Cuba, Venezuela, Ecuador, Guinea and elsewhere who were detained or rapidly deported following court appearances.
Vanessa Dojaquez-Torres of the American Immigration Lawyers Association warns: “There is a large number of people going to court and getting arrested, and also people in detention not getting let out. This happens to people with no criminal background, no negative immigration history—they might even have a sponsor that says, ‘We will house them and feed them and make sure they show up.’”
At San Francisco International Airport, Tae Heung “Will” Kim, a 40-year-old scientist and permanent U.S. resident who has lived in America since age five, was detained upon returning from his brother’s wedding.
An attorney recounted a conversation with a CBP supervisor, claiming the official said Kim “did not have constitutional rights because of his immigration status”. Kim’s mother said: “My children only know the U.S. as home. Will should not be trapped or treated poorly just because he made a mistake or is not a citizen.”
Civil society groups frame these episodes as systemic. Sirine Shebaya, executive director of the National Immigration Project: “ICE’s actions in this case are not only unlawful, they are cruel and show a complete disregard for family values and the wellbeing of children.” The ACLU and allied organizations call the practices a “shocking—although increasingly common—abuse of power.”
The administration’s defenders reply that removals follow law and due process. Former border chief Tom Homan said: “The children aren’t deported. The mother chose to take the children with her.” Secretary of State Marco Rubio added: “I imagine those three U.S. citizen children have fathers here in the United States. They can stay with their father. That’s up to their family to decide where the children go.”
Two decades after its creation, ICE remains central to America’s immigration debate. Supporters view it as an essential institution for upholding law and public safety, while critics highlight cases that raise concerns about due process and the protection of families. The contrast between these perspectives underscores an ongoing question for U.S. policymakers: how to balance the enforcement of immigration law with the safeguarding of individual rights and humanitarian considerations.
Earlier, Kazinform News Agency reported that the authorities in Los Angeles had imposed a citywide curfew from 8:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. in June, as protests continued in response to nationwide immigration raids and the detention of suspected undocumented migrants.