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‘Chains around my waist and feet': Inside a Trump ICE detention centre
‘Chains around my waist and feet': Inside a Trump ICE detention centre

The Independent

time13-07-2025

  • Politics
  • The Independent

‘Chains around my waist and feet': Inside a Trump ICE detention centre

What was shaping up to be a mundane Saturday morning in Boston for painter and decorator Luis Martínez* – running errands, picking up some medication for a sick girlfriend back home and accompanying his dad to collect his car – quickly dissolved into a terrifying ordeal. Before the day was out, Luis and his father would find themselves detained by ICE, stripped of their belongings, and imprisoned in a cell and the most recent victims of Donald Trump's immigration crackdown. But Luis's story, marked by 19 days of detention in ICE facilities in Massachusetts last month, encapsulates a broader struggle for due process rights for immigrants across the United States, a struggle that has seen federal judges in the state consistently push back against aggressive deportation tactics. Last week, a new proposal was launched to tackle the heavy-handed tactics of masked and heavily armed immigration agents who have been snatching people off the streets and taking them away in unmarked cars, in scenes that have shocked many Americans. Currently, ICE agents are not required to wear body cameras and can cover their faces and don't have to provide badge numbers or identify themselves. They can arrive in unmarked cars and don't even need a warrant from a judge to detain someone. The new proposal by the Democrats is looking to change all of that and rein in some of the most extreme enforcement tactics. While it has been described as a 'long-shot' bill, it is nevertheless gaining support among some conservatives as many grow alarmed at reports of over-policing and even ICE impersonators harassing people. Luis's story is typical of many. His journey to the United States began almost a decade ago, born out of desperation and hope. In 2015, when he was 16 years old, he arrived alone at the Texas border. Facing escalating gang violence in his native El Salvador, he had made the perilous 2,000-mile journey to find a father he barely knew who had been living in the US for two decades. Since then, Luis has built a life for himself; he was an honours student in high school; he has a girlfriend who is a US citizen and works for his father's house-painting business. Then, on 24 May, everything changed. 'I was driving my father's car and he was sitting next to me,' Luis, who is now 26, says. 'We'd only been driving two minutes and had driven about four blocks when an unmarked black car behind me turned on its blue lights and I pulled over immediately. 'Three more cars surrounded me. When I rolled down my window, I saw around eight officers. Most wore masks, dark sunglasses, and black baseball caps. I knew for sure they weren't police. I wasn't sure who they were. Bounty hunters? Federal agents?' Luis said the man at his window asked for his driver's license as well as his ID from El Salvador. He told the officer he had a work permit and social security number, and that he had paperwork to prove he was in the process of applying for a green card. 'He said they were looking for someone, and if we weren't who they were looking for, then we were free to go.' The officer asked Luis's father for his ID too. Luis said his father was undocumented and didn't have any legal status in the US. Then the officer began making phone calls. Luis and his father were both put in handcuffs. Again, they were told that they'd be processed and that he would be free in a couple of days. His father's future was looking bleaker. 'I asked — if I'm not the guy they're looking for and I was going to be free in a couple of days, why was he arresting me? He said 'we're just going to take you in because we need numbers'.' At an ICE staging post near a cemetery in Lynn, Massachusetts, 10 miles northeast of Boston, Luis saw other cars and vans full of people he assumed ICE had also arrested that morning. 'They took all my stuff, my phone, my jewellery, wallet, ID, my shoes. They put chains around my waist and feet. It was crazy.' Luis and his father were driven 40 minutes to Burlington, to what he later learned was an ICE field office. The conditions there have been described by lawyers as 'abysmal' and 'unsanitary', lacking basic amenities like showers or sinks. They entered through a huge gate at the rear, and once they were inside, they found themselves in a windowless, concrete building and were led to a detention centre. Luis and his dad were placed in a 15 x 15ft cell with 50 other men, ranging in age from 18 to 67. 'We were standing in the middle for hours because there was nowhere to sit,' Luis says. 'If you needed to go to the bathroom, you just went in front of everyone.' The only food he was given for the day was a sandwich and a water bottle at 7pm, despite arriving at noon. Father and son spent that first night on a cold, concrete floor under a tin foil blanket. 'Every hour or two throughout the night an agent would open the door, then slam it shut, waking us up,' he says. On Sunday evening, Luis was among the last group transferred to Plymouth County Correctional Facility. Before leaving, Luis said an officer told them they could fight all they wanted, but they would still all be deported. Luis's girlfriend found out he'd been arrested via social media. Concerned about her as well as himself, he feared for what might come next. 'I was nervous and confused because of what was happening, but I knew I'd never committed a crime. At some point, though, I realised that with the new Trump administration, I could be deported. I don't have kids yet, but I do have my girlfriend. I have a life that I've built over 10 years and there I was in a cell with people hitting their heads against the wall. Almost everyone was crying because they were scared of leaving their families behind.' Chained once more, Luis and nine others were transported to Plymouth. His father, meanwhile, was transferred to a detention facility in Texas. Luis was confined to a cell with just a metal bed and toilet. A structured, if grim, routine began: 4.30am breakfast, 15-minute meal breaks, and limited recreational time. While phone calls were permitted, Luis said there was a bank of nine phones for up to 60 people. Luis spent 17 days locked up in the Plymouth detention facility awaiting his bond hearing. Meanwhile, a powerful legal pushback was underway in federal courts across Massachusetts. In case after case, 14 federal judges, including three appointed by Republican presidents, began issuing almost verbatim rulings affirming the due process rights of immigrants. They pointed to a landmark 1982 Supreme Court ruling, which declared, 'Even aliens whose presence in this country is unlawful, have long been recognised as 'persons' guaranteed due process of law by the fifth and 14th amendments.' These rulings came as critical relief, often preventing immediate out-of-state transfers or deportations without hearings. Immigration lawyers credit these interventions for providing a crucial 'pause' button and have accused ICE of deliberately moving immigrants across the country to disrupt legal challenges and place them under the jurisdiction of more conservative federal courts. Like many immigrants' journeys, Luis's life has been a long one to get legally recognised despite having paid taxes and built a life where he contributes to the US economy and his local community. America has been built on the shoulders and hard work of such immigrants. They start businesses at a higher rate than native-born Americans, and undocumented immigrants paid $96.7bn in federal, state, and local taxes in 2022. When he arrived in the US a decade ago, Luis voluntarily approached a border patrol officer, beginning a process that would lead him through an ICE facility, a camp for minors, and eventually, reunion with the father he hadn't seen since he was four. Paul Hannaford, an immigration attorney in Boston, who also happens to be my cousin, was the first one who told me about Luis's story. 'Back in 2017, we got him the I-360 – which is to apply for special immigrant juvenile status, which you can get if you've been abandoned, abused, or neglected by a family member. Once you have that, you can file for a green card.' In the intervening years, the case has bounced from judge to judge, court to court. Luis's fingerprints that were taken years ago were apparently unusable and had to be taken again. A judge retired. By any account, it's been a slog. But by 23 May this year, Luis Martínez was well on his way to being bestowed with the legal right to live and work permanently in his adopted country. He had no criminal record and had never been detained or pulled over before. But then Trump became president. 'They've officially changed the policy,' Paul explains. 'As of 6 June 2025, US Citizenship and Immigration Services rescinded its policy of automatically granting deferred action to special immigrant juveniles with approved I-360 petitions.' Which meant Luis and others in similar situations were vulnerable to arrest and deportation. After 19 days in ICE custody, Luis was finally released and was forced to wear an ankle monitor until this week. 'My girlfriend was waiting for me when I was released,' Luis tells me. 'I was very overwhelmed, lots of emotions and thoughts going through my head.' Luis knows that his ordeal is far from over. Paul successfully filed a motion to terminate his court case, which meant no more ankle monitor or threat of deportation – for now. But Luis is 'back to where he was before they picked him up'. The fear of being taken by ICE again looms large. 'Now, I only go out if I really need to,' he says. 'I leave for work early in the morning – around 5.30am when there aren't many people on the streets. And I always try to get back by 7pm, and I take different routes back. I know a guy who just got arrested for the second time and it could happen to me. I don't even get to go out with my girlfriend much any more. I'm scared to go out.' As for his father, he is still being detained in an ICE facility in Texas. He calls Luis at 9am each morning to check in. Neither knows what will happen to him or whether they will ever be able to secure a future in the only country they see as home.

Tampa Bay Rays' Wander Franco convicted of sexually abusing a child and gets a suspended sentence
Tampa Bay Rays' Wander Franco convicted of sexually abusing a child and gets a suspended sentence

Associated Press

time27-06-2025

  • Associated Press

Tampa Bay Rays' Wander Franco convicted of sexually abusing a child and gets a suspended sentence

By MARTÍN ADAMES and MARTIN ADAMES Updated [hour]:[minute] [AMPM] [timezone], [monthFull] [day], [year] PUERTO PLATA, Dominican Republic (AP) — Suspended Tampa Bay Rays shortstop Wander Franco was convicted of sexually abusing a child and handed a two-year suspended sentence Thursday. Franco was arrested last year after being accused of having a four-month relationship with a girl who was 14 at the time, and of transferring thousands of dollars to her mother to consent to the illegal relationship . Franco, now 24, was found not guilty of charges of sexual and commercial exploitation against a minor and human trafficking. Judge Jakayra Veras García said Franco made a bad decision as she addressed him during the ruling. 'Look at us, Wander,' she said. 'Do not approach minors for sexual purposes. If you don't like people very close to your age, you have to wait your time.' Prosecutors had requested a five-year prison sentence against Franco and a 10-year sentence against the girl's mother, who was found guilty and will serve the full term. 'Apparently she was the one who thought she was handling the bat in the big leagues,' Veras said of the mother and her request that Franco pay for her daughter's schooling and other expenses. Franco's attorney, Irina Ventura, said she would appeal the judge's ruling: 'Evidently, justice was not done.' Meanwhile, prosecutor Luis Martínez said he was pleased with the rulings but did not say whether the government would appeal. Before the three judges issued their unanimous ruling, Veras reviewed the extensive evidence prosecutors presented during trial, including testimony from 31 witnesses. 'This is a somewhat complex process,' Veras said. More than an hour into her presentation, Veras said: 'The court has understood that this minor was manipulated.' As the judge continued her review, Franco looked ahead expressionless, leaning forward at times. Franco, who was once the team's star shortstop, had signed a $182 million, 11-year contract through 2032 in November 2021 but saw his career abruptly halted in August 2023 after authorities in the Dominican Republic announced they were investigating him for an alleged relationship with a minor. Franco was 22 at the time. In January 2024, authorities arrested Franco in the Dominican Republic. Six months later, Tampa Bay placed him on the restricted list, which cut off the pay he had been receiving while on administrative leave. He was placed on that list because he has not been able to report to the team and would need a new U.S. visa to do so. While Franco awaited trial on conditional release, he was arrested again in November last year following what Dominican authorities called an altercation over a woman's attention. He was charged with illegally carrying a semiautomatic Glock 19 that police said was registered to his uncle. That case is still pending in court. After the ruling, Major League Baseball issued a brief statement noting it had collectively bargained a joint domestic violence, sexual assault and child abuse policy 'that reflects our commitment to these issues.' 'We are aware of today's verdict in the Wander Franco trial and will conclude our investigation at the appropriate time,' MLB said. ___ Associated Press writers Dánica Coto in San Juan, Puerto Rico, and Ron Blum in New York contributed to this report.

Rays' Wander Franco found guilty in sex abuse case, receives 2-year suspended sentence
Rays' Wander Franco found guilty in sex abuse case, receives 2-year suspended sentence

CBC

time26-06-2025

  • Sport
  • CBC

Rays' Wander Franco found guilty in sex abuse case, receives 2-year suspended sentence

Wander Franco, the suspended Tampa Bay Rays shortstop charged in a sexual abuse case, was found guilty on Thursday but received a two-year suspended sentence. Franco was arrested last year after being accused of having a four-month relationship with a girl who was 14 at the time, and of transferring thousands of dollars to her mother to consent to the illegal relationship. Franco, now 24, also faced charges of sexual and commercial exploitation against a minor, and human trafficking, but was found not guilty of those. Judge Jakayra Veras Garcia said Franco made a bad decision as she addressed him during the ruling. "Look at us, Wander," she said. "Do not approach minors for sexual purposes. If you don't like people very close to your age, you have to wait your time." Prosecutors had requested a five-year prison sentence against Franco and a 10-year sentence against the girl's mother, who was found guilty and will serve the full term. "Apparently she was the one who thought she was handling the bat in the big leagues," Veras said of the mother and her request that Franco pay for her daughter's schooling and other expenses. Franco to appeal ruling Franco's attorney, Irina Ventura, said she would appeal the judge's ruling: "Evidently, justice was not done." Meanwhile, prosecutor Luis Martinez said he was pleased with the rulings but did not say whether the government would appeal. Before the three judges issued their unanimous ruling, Veras orally reviewed the copious amount of evidence that prosecutors presented during trial, including certain testimony from 31 witnesses. "This is a somewhat complex process," Veras said. More than an hour into her presentation, Veras said: "The court has understood that this minor was manipulated." Franco, who was once the team's star shortstop, had signed a $182 million US, 11-year contract through 2032 in November 2021 but saw his career abruptly halted in August 2023 after authorities in the Dominican Republic announced they were investigating him for an alleged relationship with a minor. Franco was 22 at the time. In January 2024, authorities arrested Franco in the Dominican Republic. Six months later, Tampa Bay placed him on the restricted list, which cut off the pay he had been receiving while on administrative leave. He was placed on that list because he has not been able to report to the team and would need a new U.S. visa to do so. While Franco awaited trial on conditional release, he was arrested again in November last year following what Dominican authorities called an altercation over a woman's attention. He was charged with illegally carrying a semiautomatic Glock 19 that police said was registered to his uncle. That case is still pending in court. After the ruling, Major League Baseball issued a brief statement noting it had collectively bargained a joint domestic violence, sexual assault and child abuse policy "that reflects our commitment to these issues." "We are aware of today's verdict in the Wander Franco trial and will conclude our investigation at the appropriate time," MLB said.

Wander Franco found guilty in sex abuse case, receives 2-year suspended sentence
Wander Franco found guilty in sex abuse case, receives 2-year suspended sentence

National Post

time26-06-2025

  • National Post

Wander Franco found guilty in sex abuse case, receives 2-year suspended sentence

PUERTO PLATA, Dominican Republic (AP) — Wander Franco, the suspended Tampa Bay Rays shortstop charged in a sexual abuse case, was found guilty on Thursday but received a two-year suspended sentence. Article content Franco was arrested last year after being accused of having a four-month relationship with a girl who was 14 at the time, and of transferring thousands of dollars to her mother to consent to the illegal relationship. Article content Article content Article content Franco, now 24, also faced charges of sexual and commercial exploitation against a minor, and human trafficking, but was found not guilty of those. Article content Judge Jakayra Veras Garcia said Franco made a bad decision as she addressed him during the ruling. Article content 'Look at us, Wander,' she said. 'Do not approach minors for sexual purposes. If you don't like people very close to your age, you have to wait your time.' Article content Prosecutors had requested a five-year prison sentence against Franco and a 10-year sentence against the girl's mother, who was found guilty and will serve the full term. Article content 'Apparently she was the one who thought she was handling the bat in the big leagues,' Veras said of the mother and her request that Franco pay for her daughter's schooling and other expenses. Article content Franco's attorney, Irina Ventura, said she would appeal the judge's ruling: 'Evidently, justice was not done.' Article content Meanwhile, prosecutor Luis Martinez said he was pleased with the rulings but did not say whether the government would appeal. Article content Article content Before the three judges issued their unanimous ruling, Veras orally reviewed the copious amount of evidence that prosecutors presented during trial, including certain testimony from 31 witnesses. Article content Article content 'This is a somewhat complex process,' Veras said. Article content Franco, who was once the team's star shortstop, had signed a $182 million, 11-year contract through 2032 in November 2021 but saw his career abruptly halted in August 2023 after authorities in the Dominican Republic announced they were investigating him for an alleged relationship with a minor. Franco was 22 at the time.

Shared mobility: Making travel easier for all
Shared mobility: Making travel easier for all

Miami Herald

time20-06-2025

  • Automotive
  • Miami Herald

Shared mobility: Making travel easier for all

Walk around most large metropolitan cities in Europe and the United States, and you'd be forgiven for thinking that we're living in a brave new world of affordable and effortless mobility for all, with the smartphone in your pocket a portal to a cornucopia of shared e-scooters, bikes and electric cars, and an Uber or Lyft never more than five minutes away. But if you're disabled or elderly, living in a low-income area or-imagine-without a smartphone or credit card, using these shared mobility services becomes a lot more difficult. They tend to cluster in more affluent urban areas, and are often inaccessible to people with reduced mobility or those traveling with young children needing child seats. In part because of these factors, users are disproportionately younger, wealthier, able-bodied, white and male. Shared mobility could be a key part of a more sustainable transportation system. But to be most effective, it needs to include everyone. For-profit shared mobility providers have largely failed to deliver on this, but various initiatives and projects are finding creative solutions to reach underserved communities, Knowable Magazine says. The potential benefits are large. On-demand shared mobility that feeds into well-developed public transportation systems could reduce the number of vehicles in some cities by 90 percent and cut transportation emissions by 50 percent-but only if it largely replaces private car use. "The car has to be a guest, not the main actor," says Luis Martinez, lead modeler at the International Transport Forum, who coauthored a paper on shared mobility and sustainability in the 2024 Annual Review of Environment and Resources. Achieving that goal will be challenging, especially in the Global North, where people choose private cars for 61 percent of the kilometers they travel. To move more people away from private vehicles to shared ones, expanding access to a wider share of the population is an important first step, researchers say, because a lot of people are left out today. A 2019 study of 10 US cities, for example, showed that white Americans have access to almost three times as many carshare locations and two times as many bikeshare locations within a half-mile radius as African Americans. When hailing rides from their home, African Americans also wait up to 22 percent longer for the ride to arrive. But even when efforts are made to expand services to underserved areas of a city, other hurdles persist. A fifth of low-income Americans still don't have a smartphone and almost a quarter don't have a bank account-both prerequisites for using most such services. A 2017 survey in Philadelphia, Chicago and New York City's borough of Brooklyn, showed that low-income people of color are just as interested in bikesharing as other groups, but less likely to use such a system: While 10 percent of higher-income white residents and five percent of higher-income residents of color were members of a bikeshare system, only two percent of lower-income residents were. Forty-eight percent of lower-income residents of color cited cost as a big barrier. In addition, lack of familiarity with the bikeshare system was holding a third of people back. How to bridge the accessibility gap? A fundamental problem, Martinez says, is that "private businesses will always go where the money is." Unsurprisingly, then, public agencies are the ones stepping in. A handful of cities in the United States, for example, have launched subsidy programs for low-income residents, which have shown promise in increasing the use of shared mobility while decreasing the use of personal vehicles. In 2024, a survey of almost 250 bike- and e-scooter-share programs in the U.S. found that 70 percent had taken steps to reach underserved groups, with measures like cash payment and non-smartphone options being among the most popular. Nongovernmental organizations are also filling the gap. One example is a program by nonprofit Shared Mobility Inc. in Buffalo, New York. In the summer of 2020, it suddenly found itself in possession of 3,000 electric bikes, part of the fleet Uber scrapped when selling the bikesharing arm of its business earlier that year. "The E-Bike Library model was born from that," explains Shane Paul, who oversees the initiative, helping community-based organizations set up e-bike libraries for underserved populations. At their first location in a transit desert on Buffalo's East Side, 71 percent of members were first-time e-bike riders and 84 percent identified as people of color. Shared e-bikes are a particularly promising substitute for cars in urban areas, with one report estimating that a shift to e-bikes could take 8 million cars off U.S. roads. E-bike libraries address a number of barriers: The bikes are free, and the libraries are hosted by places that are already an important part of the community. In addition to maintaining the bikes, the programs also organize training, group rides and educational events to familiarize people with cycling culture and safety. "It can be something as simple as making sure you lock your bike," says Paul. "These types of programs create a space for people to learn these skills." Personal interactions and affordability are also important for Mobitwin, a social transportation service for elderly people and those with reduced mobility. Founded by the Belgian mobility nongovernmental organization Mpact, it lets elderly people request a ride from a volunteer for a nominal fee. The program, which has been running since the 1980s, currently serves around 40,000 people in Belgium. Being able to get out and about is a crucial part of participating in society, and reduced mobility in old age goes hand in hand with social isolation and loneliness, says Esen Köse, project manager at Mpact. "We want to make sure that people who are often not in the societal cycle of going to work or going to school, who are actually often left out, that they still have an option to get out of the house and do the simple daily things, like going to the grocery store, going to the hairdresser, seeing families." The booking process still primarily operates through a phone call-a recent attempt to switch to an app proved ill-suited to older users and was never implemented. A lack of digital literacy was one problem, but members also don't want to give up the social connection that comes from calling up an operator and requesting a ride, says Köse. Devising programs that work isn't just about the latest technology or trends in shared mobility options, she adds. "It's really starting from, 'OK, what are the needs of the people?'" Tim, a carsharing service run by the Austrian city of Graz, also maintains an email- and phone-based booking system in addition to its app. "Senior citizens are often also good with phones," says Katharina Mayer, head of the service. "But some are not, so we offer the necessary support." The service has also recently added a wheelchair-friendly vehicle to the fleet, and it is focused on optimizing the service for women. In 2024, only 39 percent of Tim's carsharing users were women, and customer satisfaction surveys showed that a lack of car seats for children was one of the reasons. This led Tim to include booster seats in all its cars, with seats for younger children available upon request free of charge. A survey planned for later this year will measure the impact of this change, but already, Mayer says, new customers call to inquire whether child seats are available. The mobility patterns of women also differ from those of men, in part because women tend to combine multiple short trips into one journey, for example to buy groceries and pick up children on the way home from work. "That makes their mobility a lot more complex," says Lina Mosshammer, founder and CEO of the Austrian mobility consulting company Point&. Since shared mobility solutions are usually priced by duration, distance or both, trip-chaining makes them more expensive, and most services aren't designed with small children in mind. Small tweaks like adapting the handle design on e-scooters for women's hands, which are often smaller, and offering family accounts or cheaper fares for breaks in travel can help to accommodate caregivers' needs, says Mosshammer. Free helmets and SOS buttons on bikes and e-scooters could also help address their concerns for personal safety. When mobility companies have more women in management and other positions, they also tend to have more women as users, she adds. "You tend to plan for what you know. That's why it's so important to bring in different perspectives in the development of mobility." Station-based systems-where cars are picked up and dropped off at fixed locations such as train stations, rather than left on the street as is the case with free-floating systems-can also make it easier for women to plan for their complex transportation needs. "Let's say you have to bring your kid to violin lessons every Thursday. You can book a car for every Thursday between 2 p.m. and 4 p.m. a month in advance, and you know the car will be there," says Mayer. There is another reason that the city of Graz opted for this model: A free-floating system competes with public transport, while a station-based one complements it. "Our big goal is for people in Graz to sell their cars," says Mayer. "Our vehicles must offer enough options to facilitate this shift." This story was produced by Knowable Magazine and reviewed and distributed by Stacker. © Stacker Media, LLC.

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