The Children of Dilley: A Harrowing Glimpse Inside U.S. Immigrant Detention Centers

United States - Ekhbary News Agency

The Children of Dilley: A Harrowing Glimpse Inside U.S. Immigrant Detention Centers

Nestled in the vast landscape of Texas, miles from the U.S.-Mexico border, lies the Dilley immigrant detention center. Operated by the private prison firm CoreCivic, this facility has become a focal point for the detention of migrant families. This report moves beyond statistics to share the personal stories of children whose childhood dreams have been overshadowed by the harsh realities of detention, their lives marked by sadness and depression within its walls.

Fourteen-year-old Ariana Velasquez had spent 45 days at the Dilley facility with her mother when a journalist managed to gain access to meet her. In the visiting room, a meager boxed lunch of yellowish stew and a plain hamburger patty was served. Ariana, her long black curls framing a face etched with weariness, sat in a government-issued gray sweatsuit, initially staring blankly at the table, her plastic fork idly pushing food around. Her mother did most of the talking.

A flicker of life returned to Ariana's eyes when asked about home: Hicksville, New York. She and her mother had emigrated from Honduras when Ariana was seven. Her mother, Stephanie Valladares, had sought asylum, married a neighbor who was already in the U.S., and had two more children. Ariana, a freshman at Hicksville High, had been the primary caregiver after school. Now, detention meant she was falling behind academically. She spoke of missing her favorite sign language teacher, but more profoundly, she missed her younger siblings.

The journalist had previously met these siblings in Hicksville: Gianna, a toddler nicknamed Gigi, and Jacob, a kindergartener with wide, expressive brown eyes. Ariana was told they missed her too. Jacob had proudly shown the journalist a security camera their mother had installed in the kitchen, allowing her to check in on them from work, sometimes speaking to them through the speaker. The journalist relayed how Jacob had tried speaking to the camera, hoping his mother would respond.

Hearing this, Stephanie, Ariana's mother, burst into tears. Ariana joined her. Following the visit, Ariana penned a letter that laid bare her anguish: "My younger siblings haven’t been able to see their mom in more than a month," she wrote. "They are very young and you need both of your parents when you are growing up." Reflecting on her own experience in Dilley, she added, "Since I got to this Center all you will feel is sadness and mostly depression."

Dilley, situated about 72 miles south of San Antonio and nearly 2,000 miles from Ariana’s home, is a sprawling complex of trailers and dormitories, painted in muted tones that blend with the dusty landscape and encircled by a tall fence. It was initially opened during the Obama administration to manage the influx of families crossing the border. In 2021, President Joe Biden halted family detentions at the facility, stating that the U.S. should not be in the business of detaining children. However, this policy shifted under the subsequent Trump administration, which resumed family detentions as part of its broader mass deportation efforts. While federal courts and public outcry had previously halted Trump's policy of separating families at the border, his administration framed Dilley as a place where families would be detained together.

As the Trump administration intensified its efforts to curb border crossings and ramp up immigration arrests nationwide, the demographic within Dilley began to change. The administration started sending parents and children who had established roots and built support networks of relatives, friends, and community members willing to advocate against their detention. The administration apparently underestimated the public's reaction to detaining children, even when they were not separated from their parents. The viral image of 5-year-old Liam Conejo Ramos from Ecuador, detained with his father, sparked widespread condemnation and protests among detainees.

Weeks prior to this, the journalist had been engaging with parents and children at Dilley, as well as their families on the outside. Interviews were also conducted with staff and regular visitors providing religious or legal services. Initial attempts to gain official access from Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) were met with a mix of responses, from outright denial to suggestions of attempting entry as a regular visitor. Ultimately, the journalist gained access as a visitor.

Since early December, through in-person meetings, phone calls, and video conferences, the journalist has spoken with over two dozen detainees, half of whom are children. Parental consent was obtained for all child interviews. When asked if their children would be willing to share their experiences through writing, more than three dozen responded. Some submitted drawings, while others penned letters in fluent cursive, and some offered heartfelt notes with age-appropriate spelling errors.

Among these was a letter from 9-year-old Susej Fernández from Venezuela, who had been living in Houston before her detention with her mother. "I have been 50 days in Dilley Immigration Processing Center," she wrote. "Seen how people like me, immigrants are been treated changes my perspective about the U.S. My mom and I came to The U.S looking for a good and safe place to live."

A 14-year-old Colombian girl, identified as Gaby M.M. by a fellow detainee who stated she had been living in Houston, described the guards' behavior: "The guards at Dilley have bad manner of speaking to residents." She elaborated, "The workers treat the residents unhumanly, verbally and I don’t want to imagine how they would act if they were unsupervised."

Maria Antonia Guerra, a 9-year-old from Colombia, drew a portrait of herself and her mother wearing their detainee ID badges, with a poignant note: "I am not happy, please get me out of here."

Some of the children interviewed were bilingual, fluent in both English and Spanish. When asked what they missed most about their lives outside Dilley, their responses frequently included their teachers and school friends. This was often followed by longing for beloved pets, McDonald's Happy Meals, favorite stuffed animals, or even new UGG boots saved for Christmas.

A pervasive fear was evident in their conversations about what might happen if they were returned to their home countries or if they remained in the U.S. Thirteen-year-old Gustavo Santiago, from San Antonio, Texas, expressed his unwillingness to return to Tamaulipas, Mexico: "I have friends, school, and family here in the United States. To this day, I don’t know what we did wrong to be detained." His plea concluded with a somber note: "I feel like I’ll never get out of here. I just ask that you don’t forget about us."

Since its reopening, Dilley has processed approximately 3,500 detainees, with minors constituting over half of this population—a number exceeding the town of Dilley's own residents. Despite a longstanding legal settlement that generally caps child detention at 20 days, a ProPublica analysis revealed that around 300 children sent to Dilley under the Trump administration were held for over a month. The administration has argued in legal filings that the 1997 agreement is outdated and should be terminated, citing newer statutes and policies intended to ensure adequate conditions for detained minors.

In a separate case, 18-year-old Habiba Soliman shared her experience of being detained for over eight months with her mother and four younger siblings, aged 16 down to 5-year-old twins. Their detention followed charges against their father for an alleged antisemitic attack at a rally in Colorado supporting hostages in Gaza. Their father, Mohamed Soliman, pleaded not guilty to the charges. Authorities were investigating whether his wife and children provided support for the attack, a claim they deny. An arrest warrant noted that the father told an officer he had never discussed his plans with his family.

Contrary to President Trump's pledge to target violent criminals, the majority of adults processed at Dilley have not fit that profile. These deeply personal accounts underscore the human cost of immigration detention policies and raise urgent questions about their ethical implications and long-term impact on the lives of these children.

Ekhbary News Agency