Whose Victory Is It? Alligator Alcatraz, Sacred Lands, and Forgotten Human Lives

The Everglades won. The detainees lost. And Florida cheered anyway.

When the federal judge’s order came down halting operations at “Alligator Alcatraz,” the massive detention camp carved into the Everglades, headlines exploded with celebration. Miccosukee leaders like Betty Osceola called it a victory for Indigenous sovereignty: no more cages on sacred lands. Photos circulated of cheering and relief, as if justice had finally been served.

But there’s a harder, quieter truth under the surface. The detainees themselves weren’t freed. They weren’t celebrated. They weren’t even considered.

Instead, they are being moved.

Where Are the Detainees Going?

The reality doesn’t match the simple narrative:

• Some detainees have been transferred to other ICE facilities across the country. One was sent to the El Paso Service Enhanced Hardened Processing Center in Texas.

• Roughly 100 others have already been deported directly from Alligator Alcatraz, bypassing U.S. soil entirely.

• Most are still being shuffled around the system, with reports confirming that not all are returning to Miami’s infamous Krome detention center, though some inevitably will.

• A judge has ordered Alligator Alcatraz emptied within about 60 days, barring any new transfers in and requiring much of the infrastructure to be dismantled.

In other words: the cages didn’t go away—they just moved.

“Anywhere But Krome”

This story isn’t just about where the cages are placed. It’s about what happens inside them. For years, detainees have described Krome as so unbearable that many begged to stay at Alligator Alcatraz, despite its own brutal conditions.

One immigrant rights advocate recalled a man telling her: “At least at AA we could see the sky. At Krome, you lose your mind.”

Another detainee described Krome as “worse than prison,” citing constant harassment, lack of medical care, and rampant abuse. “Sleep on the swamp floor at AA,” he said, “but don’t send me back to Krome.”

So while some communities celebrated the removal of cages from sacred land, the people inside those cages were once again erased.

Who Benefits, Who Pays

Governor Ron DeSantis built Alligator Alcatraz for political theater, spending millions in state funds to prove how “tough” he could be on immigrants. ICE went along because the site’s isolation made oversight nearly impossible. The federal government looked the other way because detention beds—no matter how remote or inhumane—keep the deportation machine running.

Meanwhile, private contractors profited from food services, construction, and security contracts. Taxpayer money fueled it. Human beings paid for it with their bodies and their sanity.

Land Is Sacred. So Are People.

This should never have been framed as a competition between Indigenous sovereignty and immigrant survival. Both struggles are born of colonization and state violence.

Colonizers first stole the Everglades from the Miccosukee. Centuries later, the U.S. government turned that same land into a site of incarceration for migrants fleeing war, climate collapse, and poverty. Both are products of the same machine: land theft and human cages.

There is no true victory if we only defend one and ignore the other.

What We Can Do

The cages will not disappear on their own. Here’s what readers can do now:

• Support frontline groups: Donate to organizations like Unidos Immokalee, Save Our Democracy, and the Florida Immigrant Coalition who are directly supporting detainees and their families.

• Demand accountability: Pressure elected officials to shut down Krome and end ICE contracts in Florida. Call your representatives and demand federal oversight of detention facilities.

• Amplify immigrant voices: Share testimony from those inside, not just the headlines about land rights. Center the people who are most impacted.

• Stand in solidarity: Fight for both sacred land and sacred lives. These struggles are not separate—they are intertwined.

The Real Victory

Alligator Alcatraz will soon be dismantled. But Krome remains. Broward Transitional remains. Deportations continue. ICE agents still prowl Florida highways.

The cages didn’t disappear. They just moved.

And unless we fight for the people inside them, we’ll be stuck cheering empty victories while the machine keeps running.