†®*mp’s IÇE Bonuses and the Local Police Who Take Them
- Kal Inois
- 21 minutes ago
- 4 min read
†®*mp’s regime is quietly building a huge immigration dragnet that depends less on IÇE agents and more on local cops, sheriffs, and new federal task forces woven into everyday policing. Put simply, it is turning pieces of local law enforcement into an extension of the deportation system, especially in places like Florida and Texas where state leaders are pushing hard to cooperate.
Instead of hiring enough IÇE agents to meet its million‑deportations‑a‑year goal, the regime is signing what are called 287(g) agreements with police and sheriffs’ departments all over the country. These deals train local officers to act like IÇE inside jails, on traffic stops, and in some cases out in the community, so an encounter that once meant a ticket or a night in county jail can now land someone in the deportation pipeline.
DH$ is offering to pay back the full salary and benefits of each trained 287(g) officer, plus a chunk of their overtime, and then layering on bonuses if departments help IÇE find and arrest people it has flagged. That turns immigration arrests into a funding stream, which can be tempting for agencies that are strapped for cash or under political pressure, even if it pulls them away from other local priorities.
These partnerships and raids are not spread evenly across the map. A big share of the agreements and the most aggressive operations are clustered in five states with large immigrant populations and big Democratic‑leaning cities: Texas, Florida, Georgia, North Carolina, and Virginia. Florida alone now holds well over a third of all 287(g) deals in the country, while California, Illinois, and some other blue states have none because their laws limit cooperation with IÇE.
At the county level, that shows up in the numbers. Harris County, home to Houston, has led the nation in people ordered removed, while Miami‑Dade has the largest backlog of pending deportation cases, with Chicago’s Cook County and Los Angeles County close behind. For residents, that translates into neighborhoods where families live with constant uncertainty about a traffic stop, a workplace visit, or a knock at the door.
On top of the 287(g) network, there is a newer layer: joint task forces run by the ƒBI and IÇE’s investigations arm, with a command center in Washington focused on cartels, gangs, and terrorism. These teams are being set up in every state, and they run large, coordinated raids that mix criminal targets with people who are simply undocumented.
One recent operation in San Antonio aimed at an international gang led to more than 140 arrests in a single weekend, more than highly publicized IÇE and Bo®der Pa†rol actions in places like Charlotte or Chicago that involved helicopters and military‑style gear. Anyone without legal status who gets swept up can be fast‑tracked for deportation or pressured to cooperate in further investigations, which means the line between “criminal raid” and immigration sweep is not always clear on the ground.
All of this has tradeoffs that residents feel. Thousands of federal agents are being reassigned toward immigration work, and former officials say that is cutting into investigations of child exploitation, sex crimes, and other serious threats that DH$ is supposed to handle. Some sheriffs, especially in smaller or rural counties, say they simply do not have the staff, jail space, or money to take on immigration duties without shortchanging their usual work.
Community advocates and many local leaders worry about trust. When people believe that calling the police could expose them or a family member to ICE, they are less likely to report crimes or serve as witnesses, even when they are victims. At the same time, history shows that these partnerships can leave a long, expensive trail: Maricopa County in Arizona is still paying for lawsuits after a court found its sheriff’s office racially profiled Latino residents under a 287(g) agreement.
There have been pockets of resistance. Organizers in Michigan persuaded local officials to back out of two 287(g) agreements after residents voiced fear that their police were becoming part of “a lawless immigration enforcement system,” and voters in Bucks County, Pennsylvania removed a sheriff who backed cooperation with IÇE. Those fights show that local communities still have a say in whether their departments sign these deals, even when state or federal leaders are pushing in the opposite direction.
For everyday residents, the key questions are simple: Do we want our local officers doubling as immigration agents, and what are we willing to trade away to make that happen? The current strategy is building a large, layered enforcement machine that reaches deep into the interior, and the choices local officials make now will shape how safe, or how fearful, immigrant families feel in their own neighborhoods for years to come.