Alligator Alcatraz detainees describe what it’s like now

Nicolas Villamil and Juan Carlos Chavez, Tribune News Service

One worked in a celebrated restaurant in Miami’s Design District. Another is an aspiring DJ. An Italian passport holder was already preparing to leave the US. All three ended up at Alligator Alcatraz, a vast compound of tents and trailers built to hold up to 3,000 migrants deep in the Florida Everglades. In the weeks since Gov. Ron DeSantis invoked emergency powers to build it, just who is actually in Alligator Alcatraz — and the conditions they encounter — have become contested topics. While President Donald Trump vowed that the detention center would hold “some of the most vicious people on the planet,” a roster of detainees obtained last week by the Times/Herald revealed that of 700 names listed, more than a third had only immigration violations but no criminal record in the United States. Last week, Tampa Bay Times reporters visited the detention center — located in Collier County but built at an isolated airstrip that is owned and operated by Miami-Dade County — and spoke by phone to seven detainees or their family members about their arrests and their experiences inside Alligator Alcatraz. Though four of the seven detainees were arrested in Florida and charged with felonies, court records show that many of the charges were dropped. It’s unclear how many were convicted. Some of the family members declined to identify themselves to the Times out of fear they could face deportation.

Here’s what the detainees and their families and friends told us.

Fernando Eduardo Artese, 63, Broward: Artese was arrested in Jupiter in late June while driving his RV with one goal: to leave the country. Artese was headed to Colorado with his wife, Mónica Riveira, and their daughter, Carla, he said in a phone interview with the Tampa Bay Times. The plan was to drive through California, cross into Mexico, travel through Central America, and reach Argentina, Artese’s home country.

“We were ready for this,” Artese said. But on June 25, the police stopped Artese and discovered a warrant was out for his arrest. In March, he had been fined in Broward for driving without a license. He missed his traffic court date because he feared being detained, according to his family.

Artese was taken to the US Customs and Border Protection facility in West Palm Beach on the day of his arrest, he said. Six days later, he was handed over to U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement and taken to Alligator Alcatraz. “This is a concentration camp. They treat us like criminals, it’s a pursuit of humiliation,” Artese said. “We’re all workers and people fighting for our families.”

Before his arrest, Artese spent nearly a decade in the United States. He has Argentine and Italian citizenship. He came in through Spain using his Italian passport under the visa waiver program, which allows short visits of up to 90 days without a visa. He overstayed.

His family followed in 2018. His wife, 62, has a student visa, and their 19-year-old daughter came with her legally. The family lived in Hialeah in Miami-Dade County, where Artese ran a camera installation business. Last year, they moved to a mobile home park in Broward County.

Nicolás Esbir, 30, Miami: Esbir flew to the United States from Chile on a tourist visa in January 2021. He arrived with his girlfriend, who was fleeing a dangerous personal situation, according to the girlfriend, who asked not to be named. The couple married in 2022 and requested asylum. While they waited, both paid taxes and obtained work permits and Social Security numbers. They have two U.S.-born daughters. Esbir was arrested May 22 at the Miami Design District location of El Turco, a Turkish restaurant — recognized by the Michelin Guide — where he works as a chef. He was held at the Turner Guilford Knight Correctional Center longer than a month, his wife said. Esbir’s wife had filed a temporary order of protection against him in April, she said. They were considering divorcing after a 2024 domestic dispute. Her understanding was that this filing would not lead to his arrest or affect his immigration status. Esbir had a hearing in late June and should have been released no later than 48 hours later, she said. Instead, his wife said, he was kept in the jail four days past what should have been his release date until he was moved to the ICE-ERO Center in Miramar on July 2. Esbir was taken to Alligator Alcatraz the next day.

Gokhan Yuzbasioglu, one of El Turco’s founders, told the Times he wrote a letter advocating for Esbir and described him as a disciplined and skilled worker.

Jordin Castillo, 43, Miami: Castillo had lived in Miami for nearly two decades before he was detained by immigration officials. He had built a small business called Jordin Paint, he said. The company allowed him to make a decent living and to give others the opportunity to work. Castillo had some legal troubles. Miami-Dade court records show felony charges dating back to 2019 for drug possession, which was dropped; a concealed carry violation, with no action taken; and fleeing from police, for which he served six months’ probation. But his sister, who asked not to be named, described him as a man of good character and a loving brother, friend and dad. “He’s proud of the life he built,” she said.

Last month, Castillo was arrested on suspicion of habitually driving without a license, court records show. He was taken to Alligator Alcatraz on July 3.

Six days later, Castillo said, he was handcuffed and left outdoors in the sun as a punishment for attempting to go on a hunger strike inside the detention center, he said in a phone interview. As mosquitoes swarmed him, Castillo pleaded with guards to bring him inside, he said. He was kept outside for nearly three hours. There are fights between detainees over scarce amounts of food, and COVID-19 cases have spread inside one of the cells, Castillo said. A spokesperson for the Florida Division of Emergency Management refuted Castillo’s account. “No guards are harming detainees or leaving them in the sun — that is a lie,” said Stephanie Hartman. “Officers are highly trained and follow all federal and state detention protocols.”

Castillo’s girlfriend, who asked not to be named, said she speaks on the phone daily with Castillo. His booming voice has softened and weakened since he was detained, she said.

Daniel Muela Gomez, 31, Orlando: Gomez, an employee of Hubbard Construction in Orlando, said he was pulled over for speeding on June 25. Despite having a work permit, a driver’s license, a Social Security number and paying taxes, Gomez has been detained since this traffic stop, he said. An extensive background check on Gomez did not turn up any criminal charges in Florida with the name or age he gave the Times. Gomez said he requested asylum from Ecuador upon arriving in the United States through its southern border. He was working legally while he waited for asylum to play out. He was eventually hoping to bring his four children to the US so that they could live in a safer country with a better economic situation.

“I came to this country to help my family,” he said. Inside the detention center, Gomez said guards force detainees to either eat their food during scheduled meal times or throw away what’s not eaten. Saving food for later is not permitted, he said. Hartman, the spokesperson for the Division of Emergency Services, said food is not used as punishment. She said detainees receive a meal upon arrival and three meals a day.