Immigration Detainees: The Power of Connection
Editor’s Note
The next article below focuses on visits to people detained at the Tacoma Northwest ICE Processing Center. Current policies of the U.S. government have altered immeasurably the lives of people held at the facility. Here is a statement from the League of Women Voters of Washington, published on the 2026 Legislative Issues and Updates webpage:
All residents, regardless of immigration status or citizenship, should be treated with dignity and respect. This means that all residents, regardless of immigration status or citizenship, should have access to essential state-funded services, have the opportunity to avail themselves of legal representation in court and immigration proceedings, and have the opportunity to live and work in safety. We encourage all elected officials and government leaders to take action to ensure these fundamental rights, and to condemn xenophobia, discrimination, and anti-immigrant rhetoric.
If you would like to find out more about visiting people being held in the Center, contact Lydia Zepada, the League of Women Voters of Washington Immigrant Issue Chair, at Lzepeda@lwvwa.org. During the legislative session, updates regarding relevant legislation and suggested related actions can be found in the LWVWA Legislative Action Newsletter.
Immigration Detainees: The Power of Connection
By Jeanne Cullen
Our Olympia visitation team members go to the Tacoma Northwest ICE Processing Center facility at least every other week and often weekly. The names of our detained people are provided by Lydia Zepada. Our local team has both medical and mental health members.
Visitors are required to check in at a guard station when they arrive, where they must give up their driver’s license or other ID and sign in after providing the detainee’s information. There are strict rules about what you can wear; coats and personal belongings are stored in a locked unit. Visitors then go through a scan and are wanded.
After the scan, family and friends move to the waiting area until the name of the person they’re visiting is called. The visitors are almost all black or brown. Many of them come dressed in their finest, but no one laughs or smiles and they sit quietly. Once the detainee’s name is called, that person’s visitors move toward a locked door, which is released by a guard so that they can enter the sealed-off area.
First time visits can be somewhat distressing.
The outsiders enter a long room with partitions that delineate each visitation area, and where there is usually just one chair. All visitors and detainees are separated by glass and speak to each other by phone. Family members stand or lean against the back wall. Detainees are often slow to appear because many sleep during the day due to the noise surrounding them at night. Many have physical problems. Many hold their arms tightly across their chest, a protective stance it is easy to read as anxiety, distress, perhaps even something like despair.
Jeanne: I’ve been visiting a woman from Haiti who tells me that she did not enter this country illegally. She has been detained for more than six months. She was diagnosed with endometriosis before she was incarcerated. She has not had medical treatment during this time, just been given a cane to help her move because she walks bent over from pain. Aspirin is the medication available to her. Her family, including her 5-year-old son, have had only limited contact with her. When we first met, I gave her information on some simple ways to engage her nervous system to reduce stress.
I’ve been seeing her for several months. She cries, vents often, protests and plots, and eventually laughs and smiles by the end of our visit. I do all that I can to make that smile possible. We place our hands together, the glass between our palms, and she often makes hearts for me. That is our system for communicating what we are feeling. This is the most I can do. It has brought about a surprisingly deep connection between us.**
**This detainee was recently released after going to court three times and finally being taken to a hospital for screening. She called before she left the state and I was both delighted for her and sad; we shared our thoughts and hopes, and then said final goodbyes.
Brenda: I remember my first visit to the Tacoma Detention Center. As we walked toward the ICE facility for the first time, I was filled with emotion, all kinds of emotions. I was apprehensive and full of self-confidence; happy and sad; questioning what I was doing there and knowing I was doing the right thing. What would this visit be like? I had never felt quite like this before.
After signing in, handing over my license and storing my jacket and personal property in the assigned locker, I went through the security arch (think “airport”) and sat down in the waiting room.
My assigned detainee’s number and last name were called. I entered the locked door, walked down two white hallways, passed by cubicles with glass windows, and looked for a man who fit the description I had been given. I found him, he smiled; I smiled back, sat down, lifted the phone to talk, and began my relationship with my new journalist friend.
He was captured and tortured by the Taliban from his hometown. Leaving his family behind, he escaped to South America (not speaking any Spanish) and eventually landed at the Mexico/US border. He was in the process of obtaining legal entrance into the US when the administration changed. Knowing that he had entered "illegally," he crossed the border into Arizona, turned himself in to the border officials and landed with ICE. He has been in the Tacoma detention center for a year without any visitors.
He and I share a special relationship - he tells me about his family who are in grave danger in Afghanistan; he tells me about the difficult conditions in the prison; he tells me his pro bono lawyer's name; he thanks me for my visit and financial support. I tell him I am sorry for his situation; I reassure him that this is not the USA that I love; I try to share some hope.
Before I leave, we high five each other through the glass, smile, and I assure him I will return.
Maggie: I have been honored to go to the detention center in Tacoma to talk with women detainees. I am only at the beginning of doing this and have a lot to learn. It is clear that people are suffering and feel helpless. Offering some friendship and an ear to listen is what I can do at this point. My heart breaks for these women. I think what I am learning is more than I am giving. The contrast of my life, feeling safe and comfortable, and the situation for these women is stark. Listening seems like the least I can do.
Holley has provided continuous support to everyone. She sees several people each visit. She gives detainees the opportunity to discuss their medical issues with her and is active in providing that information to appropriate legislators.
Reminder to readers: If you would like to find out more about visiting people being held in the Center, contact Lydia Zepada, the League of Women Voters of Washington Immigrant Issue Chair, at Lzepeda@lwvwa.org. Updates regarding relevant legislation and suggested related actions can be found during legislative session in the LWVWA Legislative Action Newsletter.