MIAMI, FL – Juan Serrano, a 28-year-old Colombian migrant with no criminal record, arrived at an immigration hearing Wednesday expecting a routine check-in, according to ABC News. But when he exited the courtroom, he was arrested along with a dozen others that day.
Hundreds of similar hearings take place daily, often lasting less than five minutes, and typically end with a judge ordering the individual to return in two years to petition their case against deportation. In Serrano’s case, government attorneys moved to drop the case, and Judge Monica Neumann told him, “You’re free to go,” ABC News reported.
Moments later, five federal agents waiting in the hallway arrested him.
Migrants across the United States are being arrested in the hallways of immigration courts in what appears to be a coordinated effort by the Trump administration to test legal mechanisms for mass arrests, according to ABC News.
Trump has struggled to fulfill his pledge of mass removals of what he calls “illegals,” due to a combination of lawsuits, foreign governments refusing to accept deportees, and a shortage of detention space.
Arrests in or near immigration courts are typically rare, usually occurring only when someone is charged with a criminal offense or has their asylum claim denied.
“All this to accelerate detentions and expedite removals,” said immigration attorney Wilfredo Allen, who has represented migrants in Miami for decades.
Three U.S. immigration officials, speaking anonymously to ABC News, said government attorneys were instructed to dismiss cases beginning Monday, knowing federal agents would then be free to arrest those appearing in court once they left the courtroom.
In the past week, reporters from the Associated Press witnessed detentions and arrests—or spoke to attorneys whose clients were arrested—at immigration courthouses in Los Angeles, Phoenix, New York, Seattle, Chicago, and Texas.
According to reports received by the American Immigration Lawyers Association (AILA), this latest nationwide effort has included migrants with no criminal records, no legal representation, and even asylum-seekers.
Vanessa Dojaquez-Torres, practice and policy counsel at AILA, said that while similar detentions have occurred over the past few months, the number of reports skyrocketed on Tuesday.
The government attorney who requested the dismissal in Serrano’s case declined to identify herself and quickly exited the courtroom, walking past plainclothes federal agents stationed throughout the building.
The Justice Department’s Executive Office for Immigration Review referred questions to Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), which said in a statement it would detain individuals subject to “fast-track deportation authority.”
Outside the Miami courthouse that day, a Cuban father waited to catch one last glimpse of his 22-year-old son. Initially, he believed the case dismissal was a step toward legal residency—but that hope quickly turned into despair.
“My whole world came crashing down,” he told ABC News through tears. The father requested anonymity out of fear of being detained. He described his son as a hardworking young man who rarely left their Miami home except to work. “We thought coming here was a good thing,” he said.
Antonio Ramos, an immigration attorney with an office next to the Miami courthouse, told ABC News the government’s new tactics are likely to have severe repercussions for Miami’s large migrant community. “People are going to freak out like never before,” Ramos said, noting the fear could dissuade migrants from showing up to their court dates.
Serrano’s girlfriend, who also requested anonymity due to fear of deportation, told ABC News that Serrano fled Colombia in September 2022 after receiving threats related to his work as a political adviser in Bogotá. He filed for asylum last year.
The couple met while working on a cleanup crew after Hurricane Ian. “He was shy, and I’m extroverted,” she said.
They initially slept on the streets of Miami before saving enough to buy a used car and eventually rent a one-bedroom apartment for $1,400 a month. She cleaned houses while Serrano worked in construction.
Their apartment, she said, is filled with photos and memories of better times—pictures from an amusement park and one of them in front of the Statue of Liberty in New York. “He didn’t even have a speeding ticket. We both drive like grandparents,” she said.
Serrano’s girlfriend was waiting outside the courthouse when he called her. “He told me to go, that he had been arrested and there was nothing more to do,” she said. Now, she’s unsure how to proceed—or how to tell Serrano’s elderly parents what happened.
She contacted an attorney recommended to her, hoping to reverse the arrest. “I’m grateful for any help,” she said as she shuffled through Serrano’s passport, migration documents, and IRS tax receipts. “Unfortunately, not a lot of Americans want to help us.”
For many migrants like Serrano, these court appearances have become traps—leading not to due process, but to detention, separation from loved ones, and the possible loss of everything they’ve worked for in the United States.
