Justo Betancourt was moved out of Florida’s Alligator Alcatraz detention camp in the middle of the night and later diagnosed with a stroke, after his daughter Arianne helped pursue his release through a habeas petition. The case shines a harsh light on what ca
At 11 p.m. on a Wednesday, Arianne Betancourt’s phone rang. It was her father, Justo Betancourt, calling from Florida’s notorious Alligator Alcatraz immigration detention facility.
He’d been moved to Krome in Miami—ICE had transferred him with little warning, and he was being released in the middle of the night. In her pajamas, Arianne told a friend to come pick her up. “I was too nervous to drive myself,” she said.
When they finally reunited at Krome, the moment didn’t feel like closure. Once 55-year-old Betancourt got into the car, guards ordered them to leave immediately. Under the fluorescent lights of a nearby gas station, the father and daughter embraced for the first time. Arianne noticed “the toll that that place took on my dad.” He had lost about 50 pounds. His wrists and ankles were bruised from the shackles he wore during his detention, and his speech seemed slurred.
The next stretch of the reunion offered brief signs of normal life—none of it lasted long enough to hide what had happened to him. They drove to his son’s house in Miami, where the family gathered and stayed up most of the night. Betancourt drank Cuban coffee for the first time since his arrest and watched his 15-month-old granddaughter. who could now walk. toddle around the living room. But by the weekend, Arianne noticed his speech had worsened.
She drove him to a nearby emergency room, where he was admitted. Doctors confirmed he had suffered a stroke while in detention. Betancourt, who is diabetic, had not received the proper amount of insulin he needed at Alligator Alcatraz, Arianne said. He will need speech and physical therapy to recover.
His lawyer described the case as proof that release does not necessarily end the harm. “What Mr. Betancourt has experienced shows that folks who are caught up in this cruel deportation machine are suffering. and that their suffering doesn’t end upon release. ” said Miriam Haskell. a senior attorney with the Community Justice Project. a legal nonprofit in Miami. Haskell represented Betancourt pro bono and filed the Habeas Corpus petition that resulted in his release. “People have endured great hardships, and getting out doesn’t solve all of the problems.”.
The public moment came from the White House. On a Sunday night Truth Social post, President Donald Trump wrote—without any apparent irony—“Welcome home to Justo Betancourt, whose Daughter, Arianne, fought very hard to free her father from Alligator Alcatraz. Enjoy your Freedom together!!!”
It was a pointed contrast to what Betancourt’s family had lived through in the weeks surrounding his release: a midnight transfer, bruised wrists and ankles, slurred speech, and a stroke diagnosed only days later.
Alligator Alcatraz itself has become a focal point for criticism long before Betancourt’s case reached doctors and family kitchens. Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis and his administration erected the makeshift detention camp in the Everglades last summer. when the Department of Homeland Security needed more beds to house immigrants pending their deportations. Over the last year. the center has drawn criticism for its living conditions. its environmental impact on the Everglades. and its location on sacred tribal land.
Nearly 22,000 people have been detained there, despite reports of mosquito infestations, flooding, poor medical care, and lackluster food. The operation has also been expensive: running the facility has required more than $1 million a day.
More recently, rumors circulated that Alligator Alcatraz would be closing. Federal and state officials have not announced any official plans. But signs of an imminent closure have emerged. Florida Rep. Maxwell Frost. a Democrat from Orlando. learned during a visit to the center on May 27 that only 655 people remained there—half the population reported earlier this year. Contractors were also told that operations would be winding down in early June, the New York Times reported.
The uncertainty has unsettled people still inside. “There’s a lot of uncertainty and lack of information and transparency here. ” said Carmen Iguina Gonzalez. Deputy Director for Immigration Detention at the ACLU. “That makes a lot of people nervous because they have no certainty as to what is going to happen to them.”.
Questions about timing and responsibility have also collided. Last week. a request was made to the Florida Division of Emergency Management. the state agency that manages Alligator Alcatraz. about when the facility was closing and how many people were being detained. A spokesperson referred the question to DeSantis’s May 13 remarks during a press conference. in which the governor said that the responsibility for sending immigrants to Alligator Alcatraz rested with DHS. “I have not gotten any official word that they’re not going to be sending illegal aliens there,” DeSantis continued. When the Department of Homeland Security was reached for more information. a spokesperson replied in an email. “Daily operations at Alligator Alcatraz continue as usual.”.
Betancourt’s path to release began long before the stroke diagnosis. He came to the United States from Cuba more than 35 years ago and had an order of removal following his release from prison in 2020 after serving time for drug-related charges. He reported to immigration check-ins and was issued a work permit, court filings state.
In October, he was arrested in Miami during a routine immigration check-in appointment and taken to Alligator Alcatraz. In January. he was transferred to a Texas detention center and forced to present himself for deportation to Mexican authorities at the border. But due to health problems including diabetes, Mexican officials turned him away. ICE transferred him back to Alligator Alcatraz.
Since her father was detained, Arianne Betancourt has become a high-profile voice in the immigrant rights movement. Before his arrest, the 33-year-old Miami native guided tourists through Little Havana and South Beach. Now. she stands with a microphone and an orange sign that reads. “Give Justo Betancourt the right to due process.” When she came to the weekly vigil for the first time. Betancourt told attendees she was “absolutely broken.” She then added. “Week after week. I’ve come here. and I’ve felt stronger. I feel love, I feel empathy, compassion from absolute strangers.”.
Her activism grew from the weekend vigils outside the detention camp’s gates. She protested in Minneapolis and Chicago, and shared her family’s story with local and national news outlets. In March, she attended then US Department of Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem’s testimony at a Senate oversight hearing. Her advocacy also changed her job: she quit her work as a Miami tour guide and was hired as an organizer for the Workers Circle. a Jewish social-justice organization that has taken the lead in coordinating the Alligator Alcatraz gatherings. Most recently, she helped launch a new pro bono legal program for Alligator Alcatraz detainees.
When Justo spoke for the first time this week, he was out of the hospital and living with Arianne. He sounded upbeat, even as he carried the weight of what he said he witnessed and endured. While thrilled to be with his family, he worried about the friends he left behind.
He described frozen bologna and cheese sandwiches during 15-minute meal breaks. He said detainees dealt with mosquito and spider infestations that left them covered in bites. He described the anxiety of waiting hours to make one phone call to Arianne and his two other children. He also said he saw fights break out and people trying to take their lives.
“ We were 32 people in one cage,” he recalled.
For months, he said, he went without insulin. He said much of his time at the medical unit involved being shackled to a bed. with guards escorting him to the restroom. “Alligator Alcatraz has scarred me like nothing else in my life. It broke me mentally and emotionally,” he added. “Some people may say I’m exaggerating…but I lived through those moments.”.
On Sunday, he joined Arianne at the vigil outside Alligator Alcatraz. Week after week, she has shown up to advocate for him since his detention began more than six months ago. They held hands and faced the detention camp that separated them.
“Nobody deserves what’s happened to them and what’s continuing to happen inside of Alligator Alcatraz,” Arianne said. “And if the government and DeSantis can be proud of having an operation like that, then I should be proud of all of my efforts to get it shut down.”
United States politics immigration detention ICE Alligator Alcatraz Florida Ron DeSantis Donald Trump Truth Social Krome habeas corpus habeas petition Community Justice Project ACLU Maxwell Frost Everglades stroke