ICE Turns Puerto Rico Into a Deportation Factory as Raids Surge 1,700%

When Going to the Store Means You Might Not Come Home

Fermin Diaz stepped out of his home in Barrio Obrero for a few minutes to grab something from the store. The 57-year-old Dominican man never came back. ICE agents detained him on the street.

"It was a shock," journalist Luisa Benitez told Enlace Latino NC. "It was the first time we were seeing this type of mobilization on the island, and it didn't necessarily align with what had been said by the federal government: that detentions would target people with criminal records or arrest warrants. They simply detained him."

That was just the beginning. By March 2026, immigration arrests in Puerto Rico had skyrocketed from 95 in all of 2024 to 1,712 detentions -- an increase of more than 1,700%. The island has become a laboratory for the Trump administration's deportation machine, and the human and economic costs are mounting fast.

ICE Turns Immigration Appointments Into Ambushes

Mathews Gomes Da Silva thought he was doing everything right. The 29-year-old athlete with Brazilian and Mexican citizenship showed up for his scheduled appointment at U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services offices in Santurce with his Puerto Rican wife, Anamari Caban Torres. They were celebrating, waiting for his documents to be processed.

"We hugged, we celebrated ... we were waiting for the document," Caban Torres said. "And suddenly, federal ICE agents come in and say: 'No, he's not leaving with you. He's leaving under arrest.'"

This is the new reality in Puerto Rico: ICE agents lurking at routine immigration appointments, turning bureaucratic check-ins into deportation traps. It's a bait-and-switch that destroys any remaining trust between immigrant communities and federal authorities.

This Isn't New -- Puerto Ricans Just Forgot

Puerto Rican journalist Luis Trelles put the current crackdown in historical context during a recent training for communicators and activists: "A scale of raids like this hadn't been seen since the 1990s. But the problem isn't just that they've returned. The problem is that many Puerto Ricans forgot this existed. Why is there forgetting? Why did we allow this to happen again?"

During Bill Clinton's presidency, Puerto Rico experienced similar waves of immigration raids in communities and workplaces. Those episodes left behind a legacy of distrust that's now resurfacing with a vengeance under Trump's second term.

The difference this time? ICE isn't just raiding workplaces and neighborhoods. Agents are now stationed at Luis Munoz Marin International Airport in Carolina, not performing security functions but observing from a distance, creating what travelers describe as an atmosphere of intimidation and surveillance.

The Economic Wreckage of Fear

Nearly 90,000 foreign-born people live in Puerto Rico, according to U.S. Census estimates, most from the Caribbean and Latin America. ICE's lead investigator Rebecca Gonzalez-Ramos told NPR that around 20,000 people live without regular immigration status -- though that figure is likely higher due to undercounting and fear of participating in official surveys.

These aren't abstract numbers. They represent workers in construction, a sector critical to the island's ongoing reconstruction efforts. They represent customers at local businesses in neighborhoods like Rio Piedras and Santurce, where店主 now report emptier streets and declining sales.

When migrant communities live under constant fear of detention, they stop moving around freely. They stop spending money at local businesses. They pull their kids from school. The economic flow doesn't just shrink -- it fractures.

Migrants pay rent, drive consumption of goods and services, contribute to Puerto Rico's sales tax (IVU), and pay into Social Security. When ICE raids displace these communities or force them into hiding, the island loses tax revenue that funds public services. Small businesses lose customers. Construction projects lose workers.

The Trump administration's deportation agenda isn't just cruel -- it's economically destructive, particularly for an island still recovering from Hurricane Maria and decades of colonial economic mismanagement.

"Fuera ICE"

Puerto Rican superstar Bad Bunny said it on a global stage before millions: "Fuera ICE" -- ICE out.

The phrase wasn't just symbolic. In neighborhoods where migrant communities are concentrated, that message is now felt in daily life: in emptier streets, in businesses with fewer customers, and in decisions shaped by fear.

For those looking from the outside, Puerto Rico is often associated with beaches, music, and tourism. But since January 2025, another reality has rapidly taken hold. The island that resists colonial control, that rebuilds after every hurricane, that produces some of the world's most influential artists, is now being used as a testing ground for mass deportation.

The question Luis Trelles asked remains urgent: Why did we allow this to happen again? And more importantly, what are we going to do about it now?