Immigrants Face Double Punishment As ICE Snatches Them After Prison

Ursula Gomez served over 20 years in a California prison, dedicating herself to rehabilitation and education. When her sentence ended in July 2024, she expected to go home. Instead, she was handed over to Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and shuffled through multiple detention centers for nearly a year. With President Trump’s aggressive deportation policies looming, she agreed to be removed to Mexico—a country she hadn’t lived in since she was five.

Gomez’s ordeal is not unique. It exposes the harsh reality of the prison-to-ICE pipeline, a system critics call “double punishment.” When ICE identifies someone in prison for potential deportation, it issues a detainer—a request (not a court order) to hold the person for transfer. While not legally mandatory, most state and federal prisons comply, handing over thousands of people annually.

California’s Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR) is a prime example. Despite California’s sanctuary reputation, the state prison system is required by law to flag immigrants for ICE. Since 2015, over 18,000 people leaving California prisons have been transferred to ICE custody. The CDCR even places “potential holds” on anyone foreign-born, sometimes based on nothing more than a name, accent, or appearance, according to a lawsuit by the ACLU of Northern California.

This sweeping practice often ensnares people with legal protections like asylum or green cards, and sometimes even naturalized citizens. Many incarcerated individuals, like Gomez, are left isolated in detention centers with deteriorating mental health and no clear path forward.

Advocates warn that under the Trump administration, these policies have worsened conditions inside ICE detention centers and eroded due process protections. People facing deportation after prison often have little understanding of their rights or legal options, especially given the high rates of low literacy among incarcerated populations.

Some prisoners, like Edwin Chavez and Marlon Melendez—both immigrants from El Salvador—have used their time behind bars to pursue education and rehabilitation. Chavez, a prison journalist and mentor, believes California should create supervised reentry programs for people who demonstrate genuine rehabilitation. Melendez, fearing deportation to a country with severe human rights abuses, has even chosen to delay parole to avoid being sent back.

Leesa Nomura of the California Coalition for Women Prisoners highlights a tragic consequence: some incarcerated people intentionally act out to prolong their sentences and avoid ICE custody. The prison-to-ICE pipeline thus not only extends punishment but also distorts prisoners’ behavior and prospects for reintegration.

Even when criminal convictions are overturned, people remain vulnerable to ICE’s dragnet. This system perpetuates injustice and undermines the promise of rehabilitation and second chances.

The prison-to-ICE pipeline is a stark example of how immigration enforcement and the criminal justice system combine to strip away freedom twice—first behind bars, then in detention centers. It’s a cruel cycle that demands urgent scrutiny and reform.