Their nightmare began with a weekend fishing trip.
That's according to M., who is originally from Guatemala and asked to be called by only her initial.
She and her husband live in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.
In early July, they drove out to the swamplands in the Everglades with their baby, to fish for perch.
M. took a break to breastfeed in their car, when her husband was approached by a fish and wildlife officer, asking for their fishing license. He had one, but neither of them was able to show a driver's license: They're both in the U.S. without legal status. M. has been here for 10 years. Her husband is from El Salvador and has been here for 20.
Unable to show a driver's license, the couple were arrested and taken to a local jail where they were separated. M. says this was the last time she saw her husband, before he joined the hundreds of detainees at the controversial makeshift detention center, which has been dubbed "Alligator Alcatraz." She told NPR their story on the condition of anonymity for the entire family, because she fears retaliation from immigration officials.
At the local jail, M. says she began to panic. She's diabetic, she'd been nursing the baby and didn't have enough water to drink. She says she felt weak, and couldn't get her infant to calm down. As she retells it, that's when she heard a knock on the wall.
"I told the baby, 'That's your father!'" she recounts sobbing.
She says they kept tapping on the wall, back and forth, for the next eight hours.
M. and the child were released later that night. She was required to wear an ankle monitor and ordered to leave the country within three months.
No one would tell her where her husband had been taken. For the next three days she says she called immigration officials and scoured the federal immigration detention website. But M. could not find him.
Trump: "We're going to teach them how to run away from an alligator"
On the news there were stories about a new detention facility in the Everglades, in the swampland in the center of the state. The facility, near a rarely used airfield, has tents and caged cells for up to 5,000 migrant detainees. It was hastily built by the state of Florida to hold what Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem called "the worst scumbags." Florida and federal officials quickly dubbed the facility "Alligator Alcatraz" because it's surrounded by thousands of square miles of swampland and alligators. DHS projects the facility will cost about $450 million to operate in its first year,
"We're going to teach them how to run away from an alligator," President Trump joked on the day he visited the facility. "Don't run in a straight line."
Since it opened, the facility has been a magnet for lawsuits, filed by human rights groups and even environmental lawyers. It is unique in that it's run entirely by the state of Florida.
"This facility will house some of the most menacing migrants," Trump promised after touring its grounds. "Some of the most vicious people on the planet."
But so far, the numbers don't support the president's assertion. According to recent DHS statistics, 71% of people in immigration detention nationally have no criminal convictions. A Miami Herald investigation found that one-third of the immigrants being held at "Alligator Alcatraz" have no criminal convictions. Of those who do have convictions, the crimes range from traffic violations to illegal reentry and attempted murder.
(M.'s husband was charged with cocaine possession 20 years ago. He pleaded not guilty, and the charge was dropped. He also pleaded no contest to driving without a license, a misdemeanor. These days, the couple has a landscaping business. They are active in their local evangelical church.)
"What are we, in Russia? What is this?"
As soon as she was released, M. contacted a Florida immigration lawyer, Jeff Botelho. "She was desperate," Botelho says. Although he does not currently represent M.'s husband, at the time he agreed to help try and locate him.
Botelho immediately ran into what many immigration lawyers have since confirmed: it's incredibly hard to get in touch with clients detained at the "Alligator Alcatraz" or get any information about people inside.
After a series of attempts, Botelho eventually called the Florida attorney general's office. He says that the receptionist froze for a moment, before telling him that she didn't have a number for Alligator Alcatraz.
"I couldn't believe it," Botelho recounts. "I was like, 'What are we, in Russia? What is this? You don't have a number for a facility in which the government of the state of Florida is housing immigrants?'"
Advocates say the facility is a health disaster waiting to happen.
NPR reached out multiple times to the Florida attorney general and the Florida Division of Emergency Management and received no response. The Department of Homeland Security told NPR the allegations of inhumane treatment are false. "This is yet another attempt to smear ICE law enforcement," DHS spokeswoman Tricia McLaughlin told NPR in a statement.
After four days hearing nothing M. got a phone call at 3 a.m. It was her husband. He was, in fact, being held at the Everglades facility.
"He said it was horrible," M. says. "They're locked up in a place where the electricity goes out, and so does the air conditioning. The heat becomes suffocating. There's not enough water so they can only shower once a week."
Family members shared accounts from their detained loved ones, of vermin infestation, extreme heat, inedible food.
Health professionals say the presence of mosquitos is a health hazard. Dr. Armen Henderson, from the nonprofit Dade County Street Response, called it a disaster waiting to happen.
"This is a human rights violation. This is morally wrong," says Henderson. "As a medical professional I am concerned. Zika, dengue, chikungunya, West Nile virus, these mosquito-borne illnesses are death sentences for people with chronic illness."
Republican leadership says the facility is "above federal standard"
The Trump administration vehemently disputes charges that the detention facility is inhumane. At a press conference earlier this week, Trump's border czar, Tom Homan, called these claims a "bunch of crap."
"I was there," Homan said. "I walked through detainee facilities. I walked through the medical facilities, I walked through the cafeteria. I had them show me, what did you feed these people today? I saw the lunch they fed them. They ate better yesterday than I ate today."
Republican state Rep. Adam Botana, who represents South West Florida, told NPR he too recently toured the detention center. "The facility is run great," he said. "Looked good. It was clean. It was cool. Everything is to federal standards. Above federal standards."
Botana says he has compassion for some of these detainees. "It's sad. Lot of folks there, and I'm sure there's some that have been there for a long time." But the law is the law, he says, and lawbreakers must be punished. "We have to close the borders. We have to deport the illegal immigrants," says Botana. "We're here at the state simply trying to enforce the mandate that Trump was elected on."
It has been more than a month since M.'s husband was detained. In recent days, he was moved to another facility in Florida. M. now takes medication for panic attacks. She says as soon as he gets deported to his native El Salvador, which is very likely, she and the baby will follow.
This week Secretary of Homeland Security Kristi Noem announced a new, 1,000-bed immigration facility in Indiana built in conjunction with the state. She dubbed it "the speedway slammer" after Indianapolis's famous racetrack.
In fact, the Trump administration is in talks with several other states to create similar detention centers as it expands detention capacity nationwide.
Alligator Alcatraz, the administration says, isn't going anywhere. If anything, it's a blueprint.
If you have immigration tips, you can contact our tip line, on WhatsApp and Signal: 202-713-6697 or reporter Jasmine Garsd: jgarsd@npr.org
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