I found my way through a little section of the migration-prison infrastructure of western New York recently. Batavia is about 12 miles north of Attica. And Belmont is south by about two hours from Batavia in the Southern Tier, the border with Pennsylvania. I had never been to these places. Attica is notorious. And it just so happened that I was driving through there on the anniversary of the 1971 uprising. I can only imagine, and expect to learn about, how Attica’s remote location faraway from loved ones in downstate New York makes that time inside more difficult. Batavia is not as notorious, but it’s where ICE detains and deports migrants who don’t have the right papers.
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Here’s what the travel process of posting bail looks like, if the judge allows them to post bail, and if they can come up with the money. For folks detained in this region, Batavia is where one goes to post bail regardless of where they’re actually held. On a pleasant fall day like the one I had, the drive to Batavia from Syracuse was about 1:45, with a little bit of thruway construction. Buffalo’s another 45 or so minutes west. There had been an ICE raid in Syracuse the week before where at least five guys were arrested. ICE claimed they were looking for one person, but, as is common practice, they rounded up other folks. After ICE took them into custody, they drove them to Batavia and then transferred them to county jail in Belmont, NY. Belmont is a tiny little town in Allegany County, a jurisdiction that decides to make a little extra cash by renting space in its jail to ICE to detain migrants. In 2006-2007, the Buffalo Detention Center in Batavia transferred over 40% of people to other facilities. The Allegany County Jail detained 179 immigrants during that year.
The detention center is not marked on the thruway exit ramps. It’s just off the freeway, though, in a local economic development park. Once getting through security, the parking lot dominates the view, followed by plantings of annual flowers. There’s a picnic table out front and the facility looks like a right proper corporate business park, complete with lots of bored security guards milling about. The barbed wire fences are much less prominent, behind the building and there are signs that say one’s not allowed to loiter.
The guys who were guards at Batavia were bored, shooting the shit with each other like any other job that demands presence, whether or not there’s anything to do. They chatted about plans for motorcycle rides, about previous security jobs, about how overtime poured money straight to the bank. God willing. About how the day before had been much busier. There was a constant line for the metal detector, like the TSA. “But we always make sure people catch their flights.”
I was filling out my own monotonous stacks of paperwork as I listened to their small talk.
4250 Federal Drive 4250 Federal Drive4250 Federal Drive4250 Federal Drive4250 Federal Drive4250 Federal Drive4250 Federal Drive4250 Federal Drive4250 Federal Drive4250 Federal Drive
Banalities of the workaday detention state. (Thoreau was less generous when he called them tools.)
Ten money orders for two people’s bails. I have never held a bond for someone’s freedom. Their friends and family collected the money for them. I’m a messenger eager to get them out before the weekend, but this formal bond feels like a punctuation on debt, and slavery maybe, that puts me in a discomfiting position. This I did not take in until later. I had been nervous about not making it to Batavia before the office closed for weekend. I was now free to leave. A call would be made to Belmont to release J & N, who would be out by the time I arrived to pick them up. I would also be able to give a ride to R, another of the persons whom ICE detained, and whose friend had already arranged bail.
I passed countless roadside stands on the two hour drive to the jail where they were held. A pleasant tour would have made some stops for corn, tomatoes, maple syrup from last season, pumpkins from this season, or cut flowers before having enough. The road houses for motorcycle riders and weekenders made themselves appealing, but I never know who goes to those places. And I don’t think they go alone. This is what it is in this rural place on the edge of the rust belt. But these small town roadside economies are tied up with a much bigger and less visible economy of jailing, transporting prisoners and detainees on these same roads covered with dirt from tractor tires.
The drive from Belmont back to Syracuse took almost three hours. We passed through more small towns, saw a vibrant sunset over one of the tiny Finger Lakes. Two of the other guys arrested by ICE that same day were still in jail, and had to stay through the weekend. Their friends and families finally were able to get the cash together to get them out.
The remoteness of this place was really stunning. It was seven hours just in the car. This doesn't count getting postal money orders, getting through security, filling out paper work, waiting at the jail, trying to find a little decent something to eat (Dunkin Donuts!). It's also gave me a real sense of how immigrant detention builds literally on existing prison infrastructure and workforce. Looking into the historical details of these interconnections in this place hopefully will be as revealing.
View Larger Map
Here’s what the travel process of posting bail looks like, if the judge allows them to post bail, and if they can come up with the money. For folks detained in this region, Batavia is where one goes to post bail regardless of where they’re actually held. On a pleasant fall day like the one I had, the drive to Batavia from Syracuse was about 1:45, with a little bit of thruway construction. Buffalo’s another 45 or so minutes west. There had been an ICE raid in Syracuse the week before where at least five guys were arrested. ICE claimed they were looking for one person, but, as is common practice, they rounded up other folks. After ICE took them into custody, they drove them to Batavia and then transferred them to county jail in Belmont, NY. Belmont is a tiny little town in Allegany County, a jurisdiction that decides to make a little extra cash by renting space in its jail to ICE to detain migrants. In 2006-2007, the Buffalo Detention Center in Batavia transferred over 40% of people to other facilities. The Allegany County Jail detained 179 immigrants during that year.
The detention center is not marked on the thruway exit ramps. It’s just off the freeway, though, in a local economic development park. Once getting through security, the parking lot dominates the view, followed by plantings of annual flowers. There’s a picnic table out front and the facility looks like a right proper corporate business park, complete with lots of bored security guards milling about. The barbed wire fences are much less prominent, behind the building and there are signs that say one’s not allowed to loiter.
The guys who were guards at Batavia were bored, shooting the shit with each other like any other job that demands presence, whether or not there’s anything to do. They chatted about plans for motorcycle rides, about previous security jobs, about how overtime poured money straight to the bank. God willing. About how the day before had been much busier. There was a constant line for the metal detector, like the TSA. “But we always make sure people catch their flights.”
I was filling out my own monotonous stacks of paperwork as I listened to their small talk.
4250 Federal Drive 4250 Federal Drive4250 Federal Drive4250 Federal Drive4250 Federal Drive4250 Federal Drive4250 Federal Drive4250 Federal Drive4250 Federal Drive4250 Federal Drive
Banalities of the workaday detention state. (Thoreau was less generous when he called them tools.)
Ten money orders for two people’s bails. I have never held a bond for someone’s freedom. Their friends and family collected the money for them. I’m a messenger eager to get them out before the weekend, but this formal bond feels like a punctuation on debt, and slavery maybe, that puts me in a discomfiting position. This I did not take in until later. I had been nervous about not making it to Batavia before the office closed for weekend. I was now free to leave. A call would be made to Belmont to release J & N, who would be out by the time I arrived to pick them up. I would also be able to give a ride to R, another of the persons whom ICE detained, and whose friend had already arranged bail.
I passed countless roadside stands on the two hour drive to the jail where they were held. A pleasant tour would have made some stops for corn, tomatoes, maple syrup from last season, pumpkins from this season, or cut flowers before having enough. The road houses for motorcycle riders and weekenders made themselves appealing, but I never know who goes to those places. And I don’t think they go alone. This is what it is in this rural place on the edge of the rust belt. But these small town roadside economies are tied up with a much bigger and less visible economy of jailing, transporting prisoners and detainees on these same roads covered with dirt from tractor tires.
The drive from Belmont back to Syracuse took almost three hours. We passed through more small towns, saw a vibrant sunset over one of the tiny Finger Lakes. Two of the other guys arrested by ICE that same day were still in jail, and had to stay through the weekend. Their friends and families finally were able to get the cash together to get them out.
The remoteness of this place was really stunning. It was seven hours just in the car. This doesn't count getting postal money orders, getting through security, filling out paper work, waiting at the jail, trying to find a little decent something to eat (Dunkin Donuts!). It's also gave me a real sense of how immigrant detention builds literally on existing prison infrastructure and workforce. Looking into the historical details of these interconnections in this place hopefully will be as revealing.
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