When she arrived at Eloy Detention Center in Arizona last year, asylum seeker Narges Dehghani said she was at her most vulnerable.
Iranian dissident Narges Dehghani, pictured here in a video call from Eloy Detention Center in November 2025, has now been held in ICE detention for 14 months as she awaits the outcome of her asylum petition.
Emily Bregel, Arizona Daily Star
The Iranian dissident hadn’t yet told anyone about being sexually assaulted by government agents, during the days-long violent interrogation she’d endured in her home country. She was still reeling from the extortion and physical stress on her long journey to the U.S.-Mexico border.
“I was emotionally, mentally and physically wrecked,” said Dehghani, 32, on a video call with the Arizona Daily Star from Eloy. “The only thing on my mind was killing myself. I was just thinking that my life is over, so I should be over.”
When a psychologist at Eloy asked about her mental state during her intake assessment, Dehghani let herself be honest: She admitted she’d thought about hurting herself.
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Before long, two guards appeared and handcuffed Dehghani, who has no criminal record. She was led to another building, uncuffed, and left alone in a cold room the size of a parking space, containing nothing but a toilet and a plastic box to sleep in.
For those three days isolated on “suicide watch,” Dehghani existed in a state of delirious pain, both psychological and physical, as she also had excruciating cramps from untreated ulcerative colitis, she said.
“It’s not like a treatment; it’s a punishment,” she said on the call from Eloy, where she’s now been detained for 14 months as she fights for asylum protection.
Dehghani still hasn’t recovered from the stay in solitary, which she said compounded her trauma from the kidnapping and torture she’d survived in Iran.
“That place is not a place you should put a human being,” she said. “I felt like I was nothing, by the way they were treating me. Like I’m nothing.”
ICE’s own policy says vulnerable individuals should be isolated “only as a last resort and when no other viable housing options exist.” But in practice, ICE frequently sends people with suicidal thoughts, serious mental illness and symptoms of depression to solitary confinement, worsening their despair.
Far from being a “last resort,” experts and detainees say solitary is the primary tool detention facilities use to manage mental health crises.
One immigrant was sent to solitary confinement for refusing to self-deport. A teenager lost 20 pounds. One man attempted suicide. Experts say it’s unconstitutional.
Detainees and advocates told the Star that Eloy officers’ practice of pepper-spraying detainees in crisis — including pepper-spraying people caught attempting suicide — also reflects detention centers’ inability to adequately care for vulnerable people.
Immigration detention isn’t designed for people dealing with trauma and mental illness, and isolating those detainees is a “quick fix” that ignores their treatment needs and the harmful effects of confinement, said Luis Suarez, senior field advocacy manager for the nonprofit Detention Watch Network, which conducts research on ICE facilities with the goal of exposing abuses and ending immigration detention.
“A lot of those mental health issues are created by the immigrant detention centers, by the poor conditions,” he said. As those issues are left unresolved, and the root causes ignored, “that’s how you get segregation used as a quick fix.”
Eloy Detention Center is owned and operated by private, for-profit prison company CoreCivic. But medical and mental health care is provided by ICE’s medical arm, ICE Health Services Corps, which had a $421 million budget in fiscal year 2024.
ICE and CoreCivic both deny using “solitary confinement,” instead using the term “segregation” to describe the isolation of detainees in individual cells, which can be punitive, or for detainees’ or staff’s protection.
“Segregation” is not traditional solitary confinement because detainees “retain full access to courts, visitation, mail, showers, meals, all medical facilities and recreation,” CoreCivic spokesman Ryan Gustin said in an emailed statement.
Detainees say that’s false: In solitary, they often can’t purchase food at the commissary and can be restricted from using communication devices. They’re only allowed to shower three times a week, several detainees told the Star. And they’re held alone in a cell for 23 hours a day — or 24 hours a day for suicide watch — meeting the widely accepted definition of “solitary confinement.”
Liz Casey, a social worker with Arizona legal advocacy group Florence Immigrant and Refugee Rights Project, considers “mental health segregation” to be the most harmful form of solitary confinement, especially the “suicide watch” Dehghani experienced.
“The inhumanity of it — having to eat with your hands, naked on the floor, you’re not allowed a mattress sometimes,” she said. “This is what most people complain about to us, just how absolutely degrading it is.”
Florence Project advocates have witnessed the decline of detainees who already had serious mental health issues and were put into “mental health watch,” in which they’re checked on every 15-minutes, or suicide watch, in which detainees are observed continuously, she said.
“They completely deteriorate because they’re isolated, because they’re locked in a cell, because they’re given finger foods and are forced to eat with their hands,” she said.
One person was in mental health watch for more than six months in 2022, she said.
“He deteriorated to the point where he pretty much was nonverbal and sitting naked in his cell,” she said. “He was playing with feces, and he was not doing any of that before segregation.”
No meaningful oversight
Eloy is one of the nation’s largest ICE detention facilities, currently holding about 1,330 detainees, and it has the fourth-highest number of solitary placements: A Lee Enterprises analysis found Eloy has held about 1,000 detainees in isolation since April 2024, when ICE started reporting monthly segregation data.
An October 2024 report from the Detention Watch Network, Florence Immigrant and Refugee Rights Project and Trans Queer Pueblo found that Eloy’s use of segregation is “excessive,” especially for people with serious mental illnesses.
“ICE and CoreCivic are unwilling and/or unable to humanely care for anyone detained in Eloy,” the report said. “The repeated deficiencies — especially in medical care and suicide prevention — pose an immediate and life-threatening risk to those held in custody.”
The report calls for the permanent closure of Eloy, calling it the “deadliest immigration center in the U.S.”
At the time, Eloy had 16 reported deaths, five of them suicides. Since then, two more Eloy detainees have died, both in 2025. One man interviewed for this series attempted suicide in solitary confinement at Eloy in late April.
Experts fear detainees’ lives are even more at risk under President Donald Trump’s administration, which has dramatically expanded immigration detention while gutting staff at watchdog agencies that oversaw facilities.
In what advocates call an ominous sign, DHS has shuttered the agency’s independent watchdog office responsible for investigating misconduct and concerns about safety, legal access and health care in ICE detention facilities.
In May DHS closed its independent watchdog, the Office of the Immigration Detention Ombudsman, after reducing staffing to a skeleton crew last year.
Thirty-four ICE detainees died in 2025, triple the figure for 2024, said Michelle Brané, former Immigration Detention Ombudsman.
So far in 2026, at least 18 ICE detainees have died — almost one death every seven days.
“There’s no meaningful oversight, and it’s clear that there are consequences to that lack of oversight,” Brané said.
‘Pure hopelessness’
One year after her stay in solitary confinement, Dehghani said her cellmate at Eloy still has to shake her awake from nightmares.
In this 2022 photo, Iranian dissident and Eloy detainee Narges Dehghani was celebrating a friend’s birthday in the countryside, about 40 minutes outside her city of Shiraz, Iran.
Contributed photo
Dehghani has two master’s degrees and ran a yoga and dance studio in Iran, before her active resistance to the Iranian regime became too dangerous.
Authorities targeted her for her protest activity and her refusal to wear a head covering, as an act of civil disobedience. Her bank account was shut down and her vehicle seized. After her kidnapping, rape and violent interrogation by Islamic Republic agents, she fled in 2024.
Last year Eloy immigration judge Michael Schnitzer agreed Dehghani would likely face threats to her life or torture if deported to her home country, granting her “withholding of removal” to Iran. But Schnitzer denied her asylum claim, not based on the merits of her case, but due to a Biden-era rule denying asylum to almost everyone who didn’t use the “CBP One” app to enter the U.S.
Dehghani is appealing the asylum denial, as CBP One had already been canceled by President Donald Trump by the time she arrived at the border in March 2025. And this May, a district court ruled the Biden rule unlawful and unenforceable.
She said she never imagined facing such inhumane, unjust treatment in the country where she’d sought refuge.
When she entered suicide watch last year, Dehghani was made to undress in front of several guards and put on an “anti-suicide smock” that was so rough it broke her skin.
There was no mattress, pillow or blanket. She said she lost consciousness repeatedly due to unbearable stomach pain from her untreated ulcerative colitis. Someone watched her through a small window constantly, including when she used the toilet, she said.
Each time she heard the jingle of a guard’s keys as they walked by outside, she was transported back to that cold cell in Iran, where she was repeatedly assaulted.
When imprisoned in her home country, “They put me in segregation, and they came to me to do whatever they want, like rape,” she said. At Eloy, “every time those officers were passing the door my heart was just pounding, that they’re coming to me, just exactly like before.”
She was locked in the cell 24 hours a day, and no one talked to her except once a day, when someone would ask if she was still suicidal. On the third day, she lied and said she was no longer suicidal, in order to get out of confinement, she said.
The threat of being returned to solitary has haunted her for the past 14 months at Eloy, she said.
“The main struggle is whether I can lead a normal life after this experience,” Dehghani said. “I was mentally down when I left my country, and I was seeking hope. But I arrived somewhere that was pure hopelessness. … I am a dead soul trapped in a solid body.”
Craig Haney, Craig Haney, a UC Santa Cruz psychology professor and solitary confinement expert, said using solitary confinement as suicide watch is not only “inappropriate,” but “dangerous.” The highest rates of suicide for incarcerated individuals are among those in solitary confinement, he said.
Submitted
Craig Haney, a UC Santa Cruz psychology professor and solitary confinement expert, said using solitary confinement as suicide watch is not only “inappropriate,” but “dangerous.” The highest rates of suicide for incarcerated individuals are among those in solitary confinement, he said.
In a 2024 study in France, prisoners were 40 times more likely to die by suicide on their first day being placed in disciplinary solitary confinement compared to prisoners who were not isolated.
Rates of self-harm are also higher in solitary. A 2014 study found that New York inmates were 14 times more likely to engage in self-harm while in solitary confinement.
“People are in despair in general detention, and they voice the despair, and they voice suicidal thoughts, and rather than getting enhanced treatment and counseling, they’re put in solitary confinement, which, as in the case of this woman, almost always worsens depression and the sense of hopelessness,” Haney said of Dehghani.
Those detainees often lie to get out, “not because they feel better, but because they don’t want to feel worse, and they want to get out of there.”
Pepper spray in solitary
Several detainees attested to Eloy guards’ reliance on pepper spray to control detainees in solitary, including those suffering mental health crises.
Cuban asylum seeker Jordano Casanova, 33, said he was held in solitary at Eloy near a mentally ill Russian man, who would defecate onto his food tray.
But instead of providing mental-health treatment, guards withheld food so the man wouldn’t defecate, Casanova said. When the man got agitated, he was pepper sprayed, he said.
“This poor man,” Casanova said in Spanish. “It’s an injustice. You have to see he wasn’t right in the head. … I reported it, I would tell the officers, but they didn’t care.”
Dehghani said after she was released from isolation, she was put in a room just above those solitary cells where she’d been held. Every day she heard the women inside those cells screaming and banging on the doors.
When a woman on suicide watch refused to put on the anti-suicide smock and stayed naked, Dehghani said people wearing masks arrived and deployed pepper spray, which Dehghani could feel stinging her eyes one floor above.
Casey of the Florence Project said she’s learned it’s common practice at Eloy to pepper spray detainees caught attempting suicide, inside or outside of solitary.
When it happened to one of her clients, Casey recalled that she asked a guard directly, “Who sprayed him?”
The guard replied: “Oh, I did. That’s what we’re told to do.”
CoreCivic, which owns and operates Eloy, acknowledged the practice.
“If an individual is engaged in self-harm and is not responding to verbal directives, an appropriate level of force, including chemical agents, may be used for the safety of that individual, other residents and staff,” CoreCivic’s Gustin said in a May 1 email.
Use-of-force is only authorized “when necessary to ensure the safety of those in our care and our staff, and only at the lowest level required to gain compliance,” Gustin said. “It is never used as punishment.”
Advocates say the practice is inhumane and can further traumatize vulnerable detainees.
Even an ICE spokeswoman was taken aback at the idea, when the Star asked for a response to detainees’ accounts.
“You’re asking if we pepper spray people in detention who attempt suicide? I’m confused, what would be the purpose of that?” ICE spokeswoman Yasmeen Pitts O’Keefe wrote in an April 28 email.
“Your previous emails asking what the agency’s policy is for pepper-balling (sic) detainees with mental health issues is alarming and completely biased,” Pitts O’Keefe wrote in another email. “It sounds like a made-up story.”
Vulnerable people often isolated
ICE’s own data shows the agency regularly isolates its most vulnerable detainees, and the number of consecutive days they spent in isolation, on average, has been rising since 2022.
ICE tracks segregation placements for the “vulnerable and special population,” which includes people who have serious mental or medical illnesses, are on suicide watch, are conducting hunger strikes, or may be susceptible to harm in the general population.
Since January 2022, more than 6,000 vulnerable detainees have been placed in segregation nationwide, according to ICE data.
Most segregation placements, about 45%, were for discipline or a pending disciplinary investigation. Another 30% of placements were for medical or mental health reasons, 20% for protective custody — when a detainee requests isolation because they don’t feel safe in the general population — and 5% for a facility security threat.
The data do not separate the vulnerable detainees sent to segregation for medical reasons, such as having a compromised immune system or contagious disease, from those sent for mental health reasons, a key distinction.
CoreCivic spokesman Ryan Gustin said detainees “can and do” request protective custody of their own accord. But Katherine Peeler, Physicians for Human Rights medical advisor, said most detainees don’t realize requesting extra protection means isolation.
ICE classifies its use of segregation as administrative or disciplinary: Administrative segregation, where detainees are supposed to maintain recreational privileges, includes medical or mental health isolation and suicide watch. Disciplinary segregation is for those who broke a rule at the facility and are being punished with solitary. Those segregated detainees lose privileges, such as access to the recreation yard or other entertainment.
The two types of segregation are supposed to be distinct, but the experience for detainees is often “basically the same,” said Claire Trickler-McNulty, a former ICE official. People may be confined to their cells for 23 hours a day in both settings, and people in administrative segregation still often lose certain privileges.
Trickler-McNulty questioned why so many vulnerable detainees — nearly half, according to ICE data — are sent to segregation for disciplinary reasons.
“Are you not treating them appropriately? Did they have a mental illness, and that’s what caused the behavior that led to the disciplinary infraction?” she said. “To me, that’s always a pressure point of concern.”
Casey said she’s observed that untreated mental health issues can become disciplinary issues, which also stem from the stress of living in an overcrowded mass detention setting, with poor nutrition, and usually with no idea of how long that detention will last.
“A lot of the disciplinary issues come from stress, anxiety and packing 60 people into one housing unit,” Casey said. “It just exacerbates their mental health symptoms. So then it’s labeled as disciplinary behavior issues, and they’re put into solitary confinement for disciplinary reasons.”
Unconstitutional isolation?
Margo Schlanger, a University of Michigan law professor and expert on civil rights, calls this view “extremely misguided,” as isolation exacerbates suicidal thoughts, although jails and prisons often argue suicidal individuals are safer in an isolated, suicide-resistant cell where they can be watched. “It’s a really bad idea to put somebody who’s having suicidal thoughts into isolation. It’s a terrible, terrible idea,” Schlanger said.
University of Michigan
Jails and prisons often argue suicidal individuals are safer in an isolated, suicide-resistant cell where they can be watched.
But Margo Schlanger, a University of Michigan law professor and expert on civil rights, calls this view “extremely misguided,” as isolation exacerbates suicidal thoughts.
“It’s a really bad idea to put somebody who’s having suicidal thoughts into isolation. It’s a terrible, terrible idea,” Schlanger said.
Detained people at risk of self-harm should still be put in a suicide-proof space, with no ligatures or sharp objects, but in a social setting where they can interact with other people, she said.
Solitary confinement in immigration detention can be unconstitutional when it’s “very, very harmful — harmful enough where it’s hurting someone’s health” or “causing really significant mental illness to be exacerbated,” she said.
Schlanger said there’s active debate about whether the use of solitary confinement for suicidal individuals is unconstitutional in this way. She said some attorneys argue that even if ICE means well and is trying to keep people safe, it’s so “reckless” to put a suicidal person into isolation that it still violates their rights.
“In my view, it’s likely unconstitutional, but it’s contestable,” Schlanger said.
Untrained guards make decisions
Detention facilities are often under capacity when it comes to healthcare providers, Suarez said. Detainees can’t always get access to a psychologist or psychiatrist. And most private prison corporations don’t fully train their officers on how to respond to people who attempt suicide, Suarez said.
Neither CoreCivic nor ICE provided details on Eloy’s current staffing levels. But job postings suggest at least some vacancies: In recent months, Eloy posted job openings for a licensed clinical social worker and psychologist for the detention facility.
ICE’s detention standards say detainees “must” be evaluated by a health care professional prior to placement in a “special management unit,” or SMU, though the standards say when that’s “infeasible,” the evaluation can happen within 24 hours of placement.
In reality, guards who “are not experts on what suicidality is” often make the initial determination to place someone in “suicide watch,” Casey said. Symptoms of depression can be misconstrued as suicidality, leading to unnecessary stays in suicide watch for detainees who need help, she said.
“If a guard hears something, they can flag that person as suicidal and without question … the person is stripped and thrown into suicide watch,” she said. A mental health and medical assessment may happen later, “but at that point, the damage is done already,” she said.
ICE’s detention standards also say detainees with serious mental illness “should not be automatically placed in (segregation) on the basis of such mental illness.”
“Every effort shall be made to place detainees with an SMI in a setting in or outside of the facility in which appropriate treatment can be provided … potentially including transfer to a hospital or to another facility,” the standards say.
Dehghani — whom ICE has determined has a “serious mental illness” — said she would’ve welcomed going to a hospital for mental health treatment, but that solitary is the only “treatment” she’s seen at Eloy.
“Not only it doesn’t help, but it makes people even worse than before,” Dehghani said. “It puts a kind of fear in people not to speak up. It just tells people, if you want to kill yourself, do not ask for help. … Do it in a private room.”
Illustration by Krishna Mathias, Lee Enterprises
‘Afraid to talk’
ICE’s treatment of people with mental illness is “completely counter-intuitive” for that exact reason, Casey said: It causes detainees to stay silent about their struggles to avoid isolation.
“It’s just nonsensical from a mental health standpoint,” she said. “We see people who are afraid to talk further about their mental health symptoms, because this (isolation) is the treatment basically.”
In response to the Star’s questions about the use of solitary for vulnerable people, ICE spokeswoman Pitts O’Keefe referred reporters to ICE detention standards.
Those standards aren’t legally binding or enforceable in any meaningful way, Casey said. But the standards warn against the very practices experts say are widespread in ICE facilities.
Maksim Borisov is pictured during his time detained at Eloy Detention Center in Arizona. Borisov said he bought the photos and got them printed using money from his commissary account.
Courtesy of Maksim Borisov
“Deprivations and restrictions placed on suicidal detainees must be kept at a minimum,” said ICE’s standards for dedicated ICE facilities, like Eloy. “Suicidal detainees may be discouraged from expressing their intentions if the consequences of reporting those intentions are unpleasant or understood to result in punitive treatment or punishment.”
Maksim Borisov, who was detained at Eloy for more than a year, said he started experiencing daily symptoms of depression and hopelessness while detained.
But he never spoke up about them because he feared guards would send him back to solitary confinement. He said his one 27-hour stint in segregation was traumatizing enough. He especially feared being stripped naked and put in the smock for mental health segregation.
“They’re gonna put you in the segregation, absolutely naked, and it’s gonna drive me crazy,” Borisov said while detained in early March. “I’m just gonna go absolutely nuts. I don’t want to feel it. I don’t want to go through this.”
Another detainee, Ahid Al Khafaji, 34, said he regretted being honest about his mental health. He has serious mental illnesses and was still sent to segregation.
Al Khafaji said he has been diagnosed with schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, ADHD and an intellectual disability. He was born in a refugee camp in Saudi Arabia and came to the U.S. when he was six months old.
“I don’t know anything but America,” he said. He has a wife who is pregnant with a baby due in June.
Al Khafaji said he does have a criminal record for brandishing a firearm when he was 14, possessing a makeshift “weapon” in prison — a paintbrush he said became sharp from him drumming on the wall — and an aggravated assault charge when he was 21. He served his time for those convictions and said he still has a valid green card.
But in December, ICE detained Al Khafaji at a check-in with his probation officer.
Delays in receiving his medications from the pharmacy began worsening his symptoms; he said he would feel “out of it” and started hearing voices more than usual. Then, officers would call him to get his medication in the evening, when he was already asleep, so he’d miss doses.
For that, staff sent him to solitary confinement for about a week for medical observation, citing his worsening symptoms and “refusal” to take his medication, he said.
“They put me in there because they said that my mental health is declining,” Al Khafaji said. “And I was like, well, I’m telling you guys this already, and now you guys use my words against me to put me on suicide watch and take everything from me?”
At Eloy, Al Khafaji said he’s felt a growing sense of hopelessness, “wondering why I’m even in here. None of it makes any sense.”
‘Very dark days’
Syrian asylum seeker Kamel Maklad, who has no criminal record, said his longest uninterrupted stint in solitary was for 61 days. Even though he hadn’t previously had mental health issues, he’s still struggling with the psychological impact of his time in isolation, he said.
In 2024, Maklad was granted “withholding of removal” to his home country, but instead of releasing him — which used to be the norm at DHS — the Trump administration spent more than a year trying, and failing, to find a third country to deport him to.
In the meantime, Maklad languished in Eloy, where he said certain guards targeted him with abusive treatment because he would speak up for himself and other detainees.
One guard had been cursing at him, and Maklad talked back to the guard using the same curse word, he said. When Maklad took off a jacket he was wearing, he said the guard wrongly thought he wanted to fight.
Maklad was quickly surrounded by multiple guards, pepper sprayed and sent to solitary for two months, he said.
Those months were among the hardest for Maklad, said Cecilia Valenzuela, a Tucson volunteer with a group that visits Eloy detainees. She became close with Maklad throughout 2025.
“He went through very dark days, almost not wanting to live anymore,” she said. “That’s when we were there to say no, we’re here. You are with us. You’re not alone.”
In solitary, despair can take hold even in those of “even the strongest of people,” Valenzuela said.
“It is a huge attack on your humanity to do that,” she said. “We need community to survive. Even in the strongest of people, there are those dark moments.”
‘Nothing in my control’
Maklad was released from ICE custody in December, after filing a successful habeas corpus petition challenging the legality of his continued detention.
Syrian asylum seeker Kamel Maklad was released from Eloy Detention Center in December 2025, after a successful habeas corpus petition. Maklad, who has no criminal record, now lives near Atlanta, Georgia with his cousin, where he said he’s still working to recover from his time in detention, particularly his cumulative five months in solitary confinement.
Contributed photo
But his more than two years at Eloy, and especially his months in solitary, continue to plague him, he said in an interview with the Star from his home near Atlanta, where he lives with a cousin.
He’s looking for a therapist to help him cope, he said in April.
“It was the segregation that affected me the most,” he said, speaking in Spanish. “Believe it or not, I still haven’t gotten used to going outside. … I spend a long time in my room. Honestly, it really made me withdraw from people. I can’t stand the noise anymore.”
Narges Dehghani, reflected in the mirror of her yoga and dance studio in Iran, celebrates her 29th birthday with her yoga clients, in 2023.
Contributed photo
In recent months, Dehghani said she’d felt a glimmer of hope: Since March, Dehghani has had weekly visits from an advocate with the Florence Project and has taken comfort in the woman’s ability to listen.
“I get the sense of being understood,” she said, breaking into tears, on a recent phone call with the Star. “I feel like someone is just understanding what I’m saying, what I’m suffering here. At least there are some ears that can listen.”
The advocate gave Dehghani therapeutic writing exercises, encouraging her to be open about her feelings and her mental state, which Dehghani said gave her a hint of “normal life.”
That progress evaporated in early April, Dehghani said, when an Eloy guard searched her cell, seized her journal and writings for the Florence Project, and accused her of being suicidal. The guard had her escorted to the medical unit to determine if she should go back on “suicide watch.”
Though she was later returned to her cell, not isolation, Dehghani said the close call prompted an “emotional collapse.”
“For about 10 days, I cried nonstop,” she said. “I feel like there’s nothing in my control. They don’t see me as a human being.”
That dehumanization underlies ICE and Eloy’s practices that harm detainees — especially isolation, she said.
“They provide you with a kind of very extreme punishment that gives you the taste of fear, the real taste of fear, to make you silent,” she said. “Despite all these things they say, this is not for my safety. This is for preventing me doing something (hurting herself) that puts them in trouble.”
About the series: Inside ICE Detention
As the detention of noncriminal immigrants soars to record highs under Trump, the Arizona Daily Star and Lee Enterprises are investigating the safety and well-being of those caught in the administration’s widening mass-detention net. Immigrants with no criminal history, or who have already served their time for previous violations, are being locked up without access to bond, subjected to poor conditions, sent to solitary confinement, and deprived of adequate, timely health care, advocates say. The investigative team has interviewed more than 30 detainees so far, and will share stories about the conditions they face in detention in our ongoing series: “Inside ICE Detention.”
Contact reporter Emily Bregel at ebregel@tucson.com. On X, formerly Twitter: @EmilyBregel
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