When a woman in Michigan dialed 911 to report an abusive partner, the expected outcome was police protection. Instead, several of those callers found themselves escorted to the North Lake Processing Center a remote ICE detention facility, and handed red jumpsuits that signal a high-security risk. The pattern is not isolated; a growing number of immigrant survivors of domestic violence are being transferred to federal custody after the very agencies meant to safeguard them responded to the emergency call.
The phenomenon surfaced prominently during the first six months of 2026, when Kent County’s jail handed over more immigrants to ICE than it had throughout the entire Biden administration. This surge coincided with a series of policy reversals that dismantled protections previously afforded by the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA). The change in approach has turned 911 calls—traditionally a lifeline—into potential gateways to deportation.
Policy rollbacks under the Trump administration
On inauguration day, the new administration nullified long-standing ICE guidelines that barred agents from making arrests inside sensitive locations such as domestic-violence shelters and hospitals. Within a week, key safeguards for VAWA applicants and other crime victims were stripped away. For the first time in decades, immigration officials could ignore the special status granted to victims of abuse and proceed with detention and removal. The shift empowered local law-enforcement agencies to cooperate more aggressively with ICE, extending the federal reach into everyday police work.
Legal scholars note that the rescinded policies had acted as a “buffer” for survivors, allowing them to seek help without fear of immediate immigration consequences. By erasing that buffer, the administration created a legal environment where an arrest on domestic-violence suspicion—even without charges—could trigger an ICE transfer. The change also opened the door for ICE agents to conduct arrests outside specialized domestic-violence courts, further blurring the line between criminal prosecution and immigration enforcement.
North Lake Processing Center: stories of Pilar, Leya and others
Inside the wooded complex of North Lake, a group of women has formed a fragile support network. One of them, Pilar, a Peruvian asylum seeker, arrived after a May phone call to immigration attorney Migladys Bermudez. Pilar explained that she had tried to flee an abusive boyfriend, even covering facial bruises with makeup, only to be labeled the aggressor and detained. She passed a shared tablet to Leya, a Cuban mother who had endured a black eye and isolation after a volatile argument with her partner. Both women said charges against them were either dropped or never filed, yet ICE detained them during routine check-ins.
In detention, the women exchange information, legal contacts, and money for commissary items using the tablet. They discuss their children, watch telenovelas, and play games to pass the long hours. Their testimonies illustrate how the removal of VAWA safeguards leaves victims in a paradox: seeking police help can lead directly to immigration detention, separating them from their children and worsening their vulnerability.
Local law enforcement and the surge in ICE transfers
Kent County, which includes the city of Wyoming where Leya and Pilar were arrested, exemplifies the new reality. Although the county lacks a formal 287(g) agreement with DHS, its jail has been handing over immigrants to ICE at unprecedented rates. Records show that in the first half of 2026 the county forwarded more people to immigration authorities than during the entire tenure of the previous administration. This practice aligns with a nationwide increase in local agencies signing 287(g) agreements—rising from under 150 in early 2025 to more than 2,600 now.
ProPublica’s review of habeas corpus petitions and police reports uncovered dozens of cases where immigrants were arrested on domestic-violence suspicion, never charged, and subsequently transferred to ICE. In many instances, officers mistook the victim for the perpetrator, a problem amplified by language barriers and limited understanding of immigration consequences. Advocates argue that the climate of fear now discourages many survivors from calling 911, allowing abusers to act with greater impunity.
Legal challenges are already underway. A coalition of immigrant survivors and advocacy groups sued the administration, claiming the policy changes violated both public-safety interests and statutory promises. A federal judge ordered the restoration of protections while the case proceeds, though the administration has appealed. The outcome will determine whether ICE can continue to detain domestic-violence victims without the prior VAWA safeguards.
