“Sunday vigil at Alligator Alcatraz grows in defiance of Trump’s immigration policy” The Workers Circle featured in El País
Attendees at the vigil outside Alligator Alcatraz, November 2.
Marco Bello
November 7, 2025
By Abel Fernández
Link to the El País article can be found here.
“We’re seeing people not stand idly by.”
About 56 miles (90 km) from Miami, on a lonely curve of the Tamiami Trail, surrounded by wetlands and with no cellphone service, after passing the airboat rental businesses and the Miccosukee Tribal Village, a blue sign announces the approach of the Alligator Alcatraz detention center. The official sign is crossed out with graffiti: “Fuck ICE.”
Last Sunday afternoon, more than 200 people gathered on the stretch of highway in front of the remote detention center nestled in the Everglades mangroves, to demand its closure and denounce the treatment of immigrants detained in the United States. These vigils outside the center—located at the former Dade-Collier Airport—have been held for 14 consecutive Sundays and have become a gathering point for activists, religious leaders and relatives of the detainees. On November 2, the vigil coincided with a national day of protest: the “Disappeared in America” Day of Action, which brought together more than 140 events across the country.
Since its hasty opening in July, Alligator Alcatraz has become a national symbol of the Trump administration’s immigration policies. At this vigil, worshippers and activists joined the national outcry for the closure of all immigrant detention centers and an end to raids by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE).
Some participants arrived by bus from Fort Myers and Naples, on Florida’s west coast. Others came by car from Miami, Fort Lauderdale, Palm Beach, and other cities on the east coast. The attendees form a semicircle on a patch of land that, from so much use, has become barren and muddy from the rains. Some set up folding chairs and awnings; others have mats to sit on, but most just stand in the mud. Almost all carry signs with messages in English such as “No human being is illegal,” “Abolish ICE,” or “Stop the abuses, detentions, and deportations.”
Noelle Damico of Workers Circle, who organizes the vigils at Alligator Alcatraz, explains that last Sunday’s mobilization also included protests in front of Home Depot stores and Day of the Dead altars, in memory of those who have died this year in the custody of immigration authorities.
“We’re seeing people not stand idly by. What we’ve seen at Alligator Alcatraz with this vigil is every week new people come, and they go back to their home communities and they talk about it with others. New vigils have sprung up in Sarasota, in Orlando, in Tallahassee, as well as across the country,” Damico says. Just over a week ago, they held a training call on how to organize a vigil, which was attended by more than 4,000 people. “And people told other people, and now these actions are going this weekend like wildfire. People are taking action from Alaska to Hawaii to Oklahoma to Florida to Boston. It just goes on and on, and everywhere in between. What we want to do is give people the tools to do something about it. And so we make these meetings on vigils accessible to anybody who wants to start a vigil,” she adds.
The growing movement has kept the spotlight on the center, which has been surrounded by controversy since its inception. Alligator Alcatraz was constructed from canvas tents in just eight days in late June and began receiving detainees in early July, following a show of support from President Donald Trump. It has faced numerous complaints about poor conditions, lack of access to lawyers and immigration courts, and environmental damage. Environmental groups and the Miccosukee Tribe—which considers the area its ancestral territory—filed a lawsuit alleging that the operation would cause irreparable harm to the fragile Everglades ecosystem. In August, a judge ordered the camp dismantled, but the state appealed, and the case was left in limbo after the federal government shutdown. Meanwhile, the center continues to operate.
The name of the national day, “Disappeared in America,” alludes to claims by immigrant advocacy groups that hundreds of detainees are not listed in ICE’s online database, and their lawyers and families are unaware of their whereabouts. A lawsuit filed by the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) refers to Alligator Alcatraz as “a black hole,” with people “missing” and “off the radar” of the immigration system.
A vigil in the heart of the Everglades
The Sunday vigil unfolds with a solemn tone, broken only by the occasional honk of a passing car. Pastor Roy Terry of Cornerstone United Methodist Church in Naples acts as master of ceremonies, handing the only available microphone to those who will share testimonies, prayers and songs. Religious leaders from various churches and faiths, pro-immigrant activists, and relatives of detainees take turns addressing the crowd. Across the road, armed guards and police officers stand watch at the entrance, while an ACLU legal observer closely monitors the interactions among the participants.
One by one, the prayers and emotional testimonies unfolded, among them that of Arianne Betancourt, a 32-year-old Miami resident. She recounted how her father, Justo Betancourt, has been detained at the center since last week. The man, originally from Cuba and a resident of the United States for 36 years, had served a prison sentence and was on parole. However, when he went in for a routine check-in with ICE, he was arrested. Overcome with tears, Arianne said that her father “made a mistake, but he has already served his sentence, he went to school, he found Jesus, and he attends church every Sunday.” The man suffers from diabetes and neuropathy and needs seven different medications, but the authorities demanded that he choose only one, his daughter explained. “This is illegal; everyone has the right to due process,” she declared, receiving a standing ovation from the crowd.
Betancourt’s is not an isolated case. Among those at the vigil is María Bilbao, coordinator of the American Friends Service Committee (AFSC), who is part of a group that has been gathering in front of the ICE offices in Miramar, north of Miami—where Betancourt was arrested—to pray for those detained. She says that in recent weeks she has observed a troubling pattern: ICE is scheduling appointments on weekends and detaining these people. “That’s new. Most are elderly Cubans, some with health problems. I mean, where are they going to deport them to? To a third country?” she asks.
The sense of urgency resonates with religious leaders like Pastor Roy Terry, who believes the country is experiencing “one of the greatest moral crises of our time,” which, in his view, makes it essential “to speak out and take a stand.” He notes that various civil rights organizations have sent at least four letters to the State of Florida requesting access to the center, without receiving a response. “If there’s a lack of transparency, it automatically indicates that there’s something they don’t want us to see,” he emphasizes.
So far, only priests from the Catholic Church have been granted permission to enter Alligator Alcatraz and celebrate Mass for the detainees. The Archdiocese of Miami did not respond to a request for comment for this report.
The uncertainty surrounding the whereabouts of those detained is a recurring theme among those attending these vigils. Reverend Tony Fisher, of the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Greater Naples, who arrived on a bus with more than 40 people from his church, recounted that he had preached that very morning about the anguish of not knowing where the detainees were.
“I preached on it this morning, on the inability to find out where people are. I just can’t imagine the stress that puts the families under, lawyers. The people themselves. I just can’t imagine the families not knowing. I mean, they could be in El Salvador. Could be in Africa, where we have- agreements to send people. Could be in Louisiana, could be still here,” he says, pointing toward the entrance of the center.
Authorities have denied allegations of mistreatment or poor conditions at detention centers, and maintain that detainees are provided with adequate food, medical care, and opportunities to communicate with their families and lawyers.
Among the spiritual leaders who have accompanied the vigils since their inception is Betty Osceola, a member of the Miccosukee tribe and a well-known environmental activist. As she does almost every Sunday, she brought tents, tables, and sound equipment in her truck; she offered a prayer in her native language to begin the vigil and began burning sage at the back of the crowd. The fragrant smoke added a mystical touch to a prayer recited by a pastor.
Speaking with conviction, Osceola acknowledges the weight of history: “My ancestors have come through a lot, through removal, through intentional massacres,” she says. “We go through cycles of discriminating against people. We’re in that cycle right now. it took everyone to build this country the way it is now. And it’s gonna take everyone together to move forward, to continue to prosper. The ideal that America is only for certain individuals doesn’t make sense when you’re a nation of immigrants.”
As night falls and the vigil draws to a close, Damico places a small table covered with colorful tablecloths and candles in front of the microphone and explains that it is a Day of the Dead altar, in honor of the 25 people who have died in ICE custody this year. He then reads their names, ages, places of origin, and where they died. Some in the crowd wipe away tears or shake their heads.
About the Workers Circle
The Workers Circle is a national, secular, Jewish social justice organization founded by Eastern European immigrants who came to the United States fleeing autocracy and persecution, and seeking democratic freedoms and economic opportunities at the turn of the 20th century. That history drives our work for an inclusive democracy and human equality today. Our activism is rooted in 1,000 years of Yiddish culture and tradition. Through strategic social justice campaigns, vibrant Yiddish language classes, and interactive educational programs, we power a multi-generational community of activists that is building “a better and more beautiful world for all.” Learn more at www.circle.org.