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Florida has quietly opened a sprawling immigration detention center in the heart of the Everglades and it’s already facing serious legal trouble. Critics have nicknamed it “Alligator Alcatraz,” and not without reason.
The place is remote, surrounded by swamp, and entirely cut off from the outside world. The only way in is a lonely two-lane road. The only way out, for many, is a flight straight out of the country.
Now, lawyers, tribal leaders, and environmental activists are pushing back hard.
The detention site sits on what was once the Dade-Collier Training and Transition Airport, a failed Cold War-era project abandoned decades ago. Florida officials, led by Governor Ron DeSantis and Attorney General James Uthmeier, saw an opportunity: a cleared airstrip in the middle of nowhere, ripe for repurposing.
Alligator Alcatraz: the one-stop shop to carry out President Trump’s mass deportation agenda. pic.twitter.com/96um2IXE7U
— Attorney General James Uthmeier (@AGJamesUthmeier) June 19, 2025
With tents and trailers hauled in, and a runway ready to handle ICE-chartered planes, the site was reborn in record time. Governor DeSantis called it efficient. President Donald Trump, who showed up for the ribbon-cutting in June, called it brilliant. But others are calling it something else entirely.
There’s no cell signal. No legal offices. No public transportation. And, crucially, no oversight.
In late June, the legal advocacy group Earthjustice filed a federal lawsuit on behalf of Friends of the Everglades and the Center for Biological Diversity.
They allege that the state and federal government rushed the project without conducting an environmental review, violating the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) and the Endangered Species Act (ESA).
“You don’t undertake a massive project like this without conducting an environmental review,” said Tania Galloni, a lead attorney at Earthjustice.
The plaintiffs are seeking an emergency injunction that would freeze all operations at the site until a full environmental impact study is completed. Whether the court will grant that pause remains to be seen, but the legal clock is ticking.
In response, Florida's legal team insists the facility is lawful. Their argument is straightforward: the site isn’t new, and since it's using trailers and tents rather than permanent buildings, the usual environmental review process doesn’t apply.
Officials also argue that immigration surges give them the authority to act fast and that FEMA, DHS, and ICE are already on board.
Attorney General Uthmeier dismissed the lawsuit outright, calling it political grandstanding. He even joked, during a press conference, that “nobody’s escaping through alligator country.”
That line didn’t sit well with many.
The Miccosukee Tribe, whose ancestral lands include parts of the Everglades, says they were never consulted. Tribal leaders have condemned the facility’s location, calling it a desecration of sacred territory.
Meanwhile, conservationists are sounding the alarm over the potential damage to endangered wildlife. The Florida panther, already near extinction, roams these wetlands. So do wood storks, snail kites, and a long list of fragile species that don’t fare well when construction crews show up with floodlights and concrete.
The state insists the impact is minimal. Scientists disagree.
Civil rights advocates, including the Southern Poverty Law Center, say the real problem isn’t just environmental, it’s constitutional. The camp is so isolated that lawyers struggle to reach their clients.
There's no easy way for detainees to make phone calls, access documents, or meet with legal counsel.
One advocate described the site as “a legal black hole.” Another warned that it could become a model for future facilities designed not just to detain, but to disappear people from public view.
As this legal fight unfolds, the implications are growing. If Florida succeeds in arguing that temporary structures on old federal land don’t require oversight, other states could follow suit. What starts in a swamp could ripple out across the country.
There’s also the question of executive power. How far can a state go in the name of an immigration emergency? Can environmental and constitutional protections really be bypassed by calling something temporary, even when thousands of people may be held there for weeks or months?
These aren’t abstract questions. They’re now before a federal judge.
A hearing is expected in early July. The court could grant a temporary injunction, blocking further activity until an environmental review is done. Or it could allow operations to continue, effectively giving Florida a green light to keep expanding the camp.
Meanwhile, protests are growing louder. Environmental groups are organizing in Miami and Tallahassee. Tribal leaders are calling for federal intervention.
And lawyers, many of whom had no idea this camp was even being built, are scrambling to make sure their clients’ rights aren’t buried under bureaucracy and swamp water.
Whether “Alligator Alcatraz” becomes a one-off experiment or the first of many will depend on what happens in court. But one thing is clear: this story is far from over.
Where is the “Alligator Alcatraz” detention center located?
It’s based at the Dade-Collier Training and Transition Airport in Big Cypress National Preserve, deep in Florida’s Everglades.
Who is suing over the facility?
Earthjustice filed the lawsuit on behalf of Friends of the Everglades and the Center for Biological Diversity, citing violations of NEPA and the Endangered Species Act.
Is the site legally permitted?
That’s now in dispute. Florida argues it qualifies as a repurposed site under emergency powers, but a federal court will decide whether proper procedures were followed.
Why is it controversial?
Beyond its location in protected wetlands, critics say the facility denies detainees access to legal counsel and may violate constitutional due process protections.
