The halls of the immigration courts in lower Manhattan are quiet on a recent August day — except for the sounds of five men wearing masks and sunglasses, looking at their phones and talking among themselves. They are immigration and federal law enforcement officers, continuing the show of force that has thrown immigration courts into chaos.
Eight months ago, the courts were a little-known part of the Justice Department's Executive Office for Immigration Review (EOIR), where judges oversee the cases of individuals living in the country illegally. This summer, however, the halls of 26 Federal Plaza and 290 Broadway in lower Manhattan, along with dozens of other courts nationwide, became the epicenters of the Trump administration's efforts to increase the rate of immigration arrests.
"There weren't any ICE agents in the very beginning, and in the past six months it's increasing," said John Sarabella, a volunteer with the New Sanctuary Coalition, an immigrant rights group that advocates against deportations. "And their strategies and their tactics have become more and more aggressive and assertive."
Sarabella, who says he visits the courts in Manhattan once a week, now witnesses arrests every time. He is one of the many who oppose the Trump administration's immigration enforcement policies. Various groups protest outside the buildings, clergy members escort immigrants to hearings, and there are occasional arrests or clashes between law enforcement and elected officials.
Last week, New York Mayor Eric Adams, a Democrat, filed a brief in court calling for an end to courthouse arrests by federal agencies.
"This campaign has taken a heavy toll on our residents," the filing stated, adding that the strategy deters people from attending their mandatory hearings and weakens trust in law enforcement.
The presence of federal agents conducting immigration enforcement has thrown the established hierarchy within these hallways into mayhem.
"We've seen an institution die in real time," said Benjamin Remy, a senior staff attorney with the New York Legal Assistance Group, which provides legal services to immigrants navigating the court system. "To see this institution that we've been arguing cases in, that we've been representing people in for years and years, essentially just be eviscerated by the Department of Homeland Security — and in a matter of months — has been absolutely surreal."
Remy, like other legal advocates, spends his days in the halls of the immigration courts, speaking with immigrants as they are apprehended by officers in the courtroom doorways — even when a judge grants them additional time or a new hearing date. He said these arrests highlight broader issues of due process.
"This nexus that we're seeing, even just here in New York City, in the immigration courts, just really raises all these fundamental questions for us as to democracy and what country we want to live in," Remy said. "It's also important to realize that this isn't solely an immigration issue. This is a fundamental due process, constitutional issue."
Courthouses in Manhattan under increased scrutiny
A week before NPR's visit to both federal buildings, 26 Federal Plaza had been cleared out after immigration officials found an unknown white powder in an envelope.
Various advocacy organizations regularly demonstrate against arrests.
The atmosphere inside the buildings offers contrasting experiences. Some visitors come through security joyfully, combing their hair as they prepare to finally be sworn in as U.S. citizens. Others nervously clutch their binders and plastic accordion folders filled with personal documentation, diplomas and the paperwork they hope will allow them to remain.
The churn is quick. In one courtroom at 26 Federal Plaza, an immigration judge ticks through over two dozen cases. He calls each person up by name, many virtually, and announces for each that removal proceedings have begun for them to leave the U.S.
He asks the migrants' lawyers if their clients admit to the charges brought by the Department of Homeland Security — that the clients entered or are in the country illegally. The answer: yes. The judge asks the DHS lawyers to designate a country of removal: China, Guyana, Colombia, India.
Finally, the judge sets a date for an individual hearing — a chance to pursue asylum, cancellation of removal or other forms of relief. The dates? All in 2029.
That year has become routine in courts across the country as immigration judges juggle a 3.7 million case backlog. Remy, the lawyer at NYLAG, said over the past few weeks, fewer people have shown up for their hearings, risking final removal orders.
"People are being put into an absolutely impossible situation," he said. "They're being forced to gamble their own liberty versus potentially continuing with their case, continuing with their claim."
Conflicting protocol from competing agencies
Court security is buckling underneath the pressure of conflicting protocol instructions.
As a result, NPR journalists were sometimes granted access to the public areas as long as they avoided recording — a directive consistent with longstanding EOIR policy. At other times, sometimes in the same building, they were allowed to record in some hallways, barred from other hallways, and denied entry to spaces designated for the public.
Paragon Systems employees, whose company holds the security contract under the Federal Protective Service, a DHS agency, acknowledged to NPR that its directives kept changing.
In one courtroom on the 20th floor of 290 Broadway, a judge began to run through a few hours of migrants' first court appearances. A young girl appeared via video conference, representing herself. Her case was transferred to a juvenile docket. She will have to reappear.
Four men sat on the wooden benches, waiting to have their cases heard.
Suddenly, federal agents told NPR journalists — the only members of the press in the public hearing — to leave the room. Half a dozen agents, including officers with vests that read "ICE," and a security official with Paragon, told reporters they weren't allowed in the room.
The court clerk stepped into the doorway of the open courtroom due to the commotion — while officers asked NPR repeatedly to step out. Minutes later the court clerk reemerged, and allowed NPR to reenter the courtroom, though federal agents lingered by the door. Officers could be heard asking photographers why some reporters were allowed in, and those with cameras were not.
The judge whispered to the clerk, who left and returned with what appeared to be an additional court official who walked across the courtroom and closed the door, leaving the officers out of sight.
A man from the Dominican Republic told the judge in the room that he had little reason to stay. He opted to voluntarily depart. He left, and was followed by federal officials down the hall and out of sight.
Increased pressure, changing rules
The next day, tensions escalated.
Back on the 20th floor, dozens of immigrants, court observers, federal agents and journalists lingered in the waiting room and halls.
People nervously tapped their feet. Girls in dresses were laughing among themselves as they sat next to a plainclothed, unmasked law enforcement officer.
A small group of federal law enforcement agents, wearing vests that read "police" and "federal police," sat in the corner of the waiting room, mostly out of sight and occasionally pulling black-colored face covers up and down. Another, wearing a mask, paced the halls.
As NPR and a court observer — an immigrant advocate — entered the hall, federal enforcement brushed past. A federal supervisor, who was unmasked and had been sitting in the waiting area earlier, yelled at NPR: "stop f******* following me! Why are you F****** following me?" before turning and yelling the same thing to the court observer.
"It's not f******* about you!" she retorted.
As they turned the corner, more shouting could be heard.
"Don't f******* touch me," the woman yelled. "Why are you pushing me? Why are you shoving me? I am not following you!"
The officer grabbed the observer and took her through solid double doors that lead to a freight elevator bay. The altercation continued:
"Why are you taking me?" the woman shouted.
"Because you're following me around," the officer yelled.
"I am not following you around. Not everything is about you," the woman responded.
The officer and the woman disappeared down the elevator. Their voices trailed through the open door of the courtroom as proceedings continued.
EOIR declined comment on the incident and referred questions regarding enforcements, access and security to DHS. DHS did not respond to a request for comment.
Six feet away, several families were sitting in the waiting area waiting for their names to be called.
Later, regular court observers said this was a quiet day in court.
—With reporting by Sarah Ventre and Isabella Gomez Sarmiento
If you have tips related immigration or the Department of Homeland Security, please contact Ximena Bustillo at xbustillo@npr.org. She can also be reached via encrypted message on Signal at ximenabustillo.77
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