Profiting from pain: bearing witness inside ICE’s Baldwin immigrant prison

By Scott Perry

Sun op-ed contributor

I traveled to Baldwin last month to see for myself what was really happening at the North Lake Processing Center operated by the for-profit corporation, Geo Group. There was an organized protest at the gate and I wanted to see who would be there. I went to hear what the messages would be, who would be working, and set eyes on the largest immigrant detention center in the Midwest.

When I arrived after my 90-minute drive, I was asked by a woman, Bonnie, if I spoke any Spanish. I took six years of Spanish in school, but it has been 20 years since I have spoken the language with any regularity. I sheepishly raised my hand; the only person at the protest with the confidence to use my knowledge. I sincerely thought I was going to go to the front desk and help a family translate so they could visit a loved one. When I got in Bonnie’s car, she handed me a pink slip of paper with a name and an identification number. Bonnie informed me this particular detainee had been held since September 2025 and hadn’t had any visitors.

Our previous coverage in the Glen Arbor Sun of ICE’s detention center in Baldwin has included stories about a northern Michigan man participating in a hunger strike, the family of an ICE detainee offering mutual aid for fellow immigrants, and why Black residents of Baldwin and Idlewild oppose the immigrant prison operating in their community.

A wave of nerves washed over my body, I felt entirely unprepared to meet this moment; yet I was the only person who was able. This was my chance to get an inside glimpse into the workings behind the prison walls. When I went inside, the guards informed me I needed to leave all my belongings in a locker. I could retrieve my things when I returned my visitor badge. While I waited for an escort into the belly of the prison, my eyes were attracted to a display on the wall advertising employment opportunities and substantial salaries. The starting pay rate for new guards was $74,000 per year. A stark reminder that the Geo Group is profiting off human suffering. After 10 minutes, I was escorted, along with two other families including young children, through two towering barbed wire gates, into a drab visitation room with 16 tables.

Moments later a 31-year-old Venezuelan man was instructed to sit across the table from me. He had so much to say and I had a lot to learn; but my broken Spanish stunted the efficient transfer of information. Every time I would conjugate a verb correctly, he’d say “good, good.” Before long, I stopped correcting my grammatical errors. He didn’t care about perfect speech; he cared for a bit of compassion and humanity extended to someone who has had all liberty stripped from his life.

There were moments where we were each lost for words, just gazing through glassy eyes at each other, while he quietly repeated the word “fuerte” (Spanish for “strength”). I told him he doesn’t have to be strong for me. He told me he knows, he has to be strong for himself. He has to be strong in front of the guards, he has to be strong in front of the other inmates. Deep down, he’s an ordinary young man locked up in the land of the free; no charges, no bond. Nearly 90 percent of the detainees at the North Lake facility in Baldwin have no criminal record, according to ICE’s own data. The few inmates with a criminal record wear red; my friend wears blue.

I learned he had been captured while working a construction job in Detroit. He had traveled solo to the United States to escape the spiraling situation in his homeland. Now, he is held for 23 hours a day in a cell with 60 inmates and five toilets. Every communication to the outside world is charged a fee, as the Geo Group takes 25 percent of all commissary credit card deposits. I asked what he would buy with the money I intended to share with him. The top things on his list were toothpaste, deodorant and phone minutes to call his family a world away. More than anything, he needs a lawyer.

After an hour, I told the guard my friend needed to use the bathroom and the guard informed us we would have to end the visit then. My friend decided he would endure discomfort in order to spend every moment he could outside his cell. Towards the end of our 90-minute allotted visitation time, I had exhausted most of my Spanish. We talked about our similar taste in music and about the World Cup. We shared stories about our brothers. He is just like me, except his immigration status has resulted in him being locked up for eight months.

When you follow the money, it starts to make sense. The Geo Group receives $150 per day per inmate, from our tax dollars. At the time of this publication, that totals more than $40,000, just from my new friend. North Lake holds approximately 1,500 detainees, with a capacity of 1,800 beds. That amounts to $240,000 per day for Geo Group.

On my way out, as I walked by the prison control room, I couldn’t help but notice the sinister tattoos on the man operating the gate. A devil’s skull with smoke wisping through eye sockets would qualify an immigrant as a gangster—according to the Trump administration’s perverse logic—but somehow this man had all the keys to the prison.

Even though the 6th Circuit Court ruled it was unconstitutional to hold law abiding immigrants without bond, my friend is still locked up. I went to visit him again last week, but couldn’t because they switched his cell block and I planned to arrive at a suddenly incorrect visiting time. Cruelty is the point and the dysfunction is daunting. But, after visiting with one prisoner, my resolve to extend grace to those in need is fortified.

Scott Perry is a previous candidate for Leelanau County Commission. He lives in Elmwood Township.

Learn more about assisting immigrants in need by joining the Immigrant Action Coalition on Facebook or contact organizer Bonnie Demos at 231-233-7923. A major need is monetary contributions, no Spanish language skills necessary.