On May 22, detainees inside Delaney Hall in Newark, the largest immigrant detention center in the Northeast, operated by the private corporation GEO Group, announced a labor and hunger strike in response to months of abuse, unattended complaints over detention conditions, and unmet medical, legal, and personal needs. Detainees detailed these conditions in a series of public letters, as family and community members protested and advocated for freeing their loved ones.
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Their protests were met with violence. Some detainees were pepper sprayed, brutalized, and transferred, while masked ICE agents assaulted protesters outside of Delaney. New Jersey state police later arrived on horseback, tear gassing the crowds and sending community members to the hospital.
Complaints had been ongoing since Delaney Hall was reopened as a detention facility in May 2025, but the origin of these abuses actually began four decades earlier ago in 1993, in Elizabeth, a small city less than 10 miles away, with the opening of New Jersey’s first privately run detention facility, the Elizabeth Detention Center (EDC).
The history of EDC helps us understand that the battles over Delaney Hall are the outgrowth of detention privatization, its intersection with mass incarceration, and bipartisan political support for detention that has rarely faltered. It also demonstrates the consistency with which detained people have resisted their detention. Far from the southern border, New Jersey has long been a central node in the detention and deportation machine—and in the fight to end it.
New Jersey was home to the Ellis Island Immigration Station, which opened in 1892. Before the Immigration Act of 1924, Ellis Island served mostly as a gateway and immigrant processing center, but from the 1930s and until its closure in 1954, it operated as a dedicated detention facility, leading a Supreme Court Justice to refer to it as an “island prison.”
Detention became more central to U.S. immigration policy in the 1980s and 1990s. In 1980, for example, the United States detained thousands of Cuban refugees who came during the Mariel boatlift. Private corporations, which governments had begun to turn to for running their prisons, expanded into new markets of immigrant detention. Today, more than 90% of detention centers are run by for-profit corporations.
The presumed “need” for expanding detention bed spaces surfaced after the first bombing of the World Trade Center in February 1993. The Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS), the predecessor to today’s immigration agencies, issued a request for proposals for a detention center, ideally located near the three major airports in the New York City area. Because the WTC plotters were foreign-born, politicians used national security as an excuse for wide-ranging changes to the immigration system.
Esmor Correctional Services, a for-profit company which operated halfway houses and welfare hotels, submitted the winning bid to turn a warehouse in Elizabeth into a NYC-area detention center housing up to 300 detainees. Almost immediately after its opening in 1994, people detained there began complaining of inhumane treatment and conditions.
By 1995, the awful conditions and frequent abuse became public knowledge when detainees organized a hunger strike described in numerous articles in the Bergen Record by journalist Elizabeth Llorente. As Hawa Jama, a Somalian asylum seeker and the lead plaintiff in a lawsuit against Esmor, described in a deposition, “I complained personally to every INS person, every Esmor official… I come to this country to save my life, to ask [for] asylum. And they put me in jail, hell. I can describe hell… Esmor was hell.”
On June 18, 1995, the detainees staged a riot inside the facility. The media attention spurred by the hunger strike and the uprising caused INS to terminate its contract with Esmor. In its place, INS contracted Corrections Corporation of America (rebranded as CoreCivic in 2016), which has run it ever since.
Detention space increased in 1996 when President Bill Clinton signed two laws affecting immigrants in the United States. The Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigrant Responsibility Act (IIRIRA) and Antiterrorism and Effective Death Penalty Act (AEDPA) delegalized lawful permanent residents who had committed certain crimes, widened what counted as an “aggravated felony,” and made more immigrants deportable and detainable, mandatorily, and indefinitely. This merged with the increasingly harsh penalties for drug crimes, which affected immigrants. The 1996 laws also targeted asylum-seekers as subject to potential removal, creating an artificial need for more detention space, and revoked the discretion of immigration authorities to release certain noncitizens from detention.
In the 1990s and early 2000s, EDC was just one piece in the larger infrastructure of detention in New Jersey. Bergen, Essex and Hudson counties had also begun to hold immigration detainees in their jails against payment from the federal government. Delaney Hall, which first opened in 2000 as a halfway house for people with substance abuse issues convicted of low-level offenses, also began to hold immigrants for profit. As Essex County Executive Joseph D. Vincenzo said to the Star Ledger in 2008, “This is a home run for us. We have to find a way to bring in new revenue, and this is the way to do it.”
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ICE detention in New Jersey peaked in 2009, then declined until 2015, and increased again after President Donald Trump issued a January 2017 executive order that greatly expanded who would be detainable under the law. In New Jersey alone, ICE arrests more than doubled in 2017 as a direct consequence of the administration’s decision to prioritize the detention of migrants and asylum seekers with no criminal convictions. Because 2017 bail reform had reduced the number of people held in New Jersey’s jails awaiting trial, ICE detention became an even more attractive source of revenue for local county jails.
Activists and advocates working across the New York/New Jersey border had been fighting against immigration detention since the 1990s. Coalition members organized protests, advocated with communities, and pressured public officials to end ICE detention in New Jersey. Fearing that detention would become a death sentence during the early months of Covid-19, detained people in every facility in the state went on a hunger strike, bringing renewed attention to the campaign of ending detention.
In 2021, the political tide turned as county and state democrats came out publicly against ICE detention. Within the course of a year, the county jails depopulated their ICE detainees and Governor Phil Murphy signed a law (AB 5207) that banned the creation or renewal of detention contracts with ICE.
ICE detention was nearly eradicated in New Jersey. The EDC was the only facility still in operation. Under the new anti-detention law, when its contract came up for renewal, it, too, would close. Instead, CoreCivic sued New Jersey in a U.S. District Court, claiming the state law was unconstitutional. GEO Group soon filed suit as well. CoreCivic and GEO Group were joined by the Department of Justice under President Joe Biden, who saw New Jersey as essential to immigration enforcement.
The District Court’s 2023 decision striking down New Jersey’s anti-detention law was appealed by the New Jersey Attorney General’s office before the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Third Circuit. The federal appeals court upheld the 2023 ruling and thereby created the possibility for Delaney Hall to reopen on May 1, 2025, and to become the largest immigrant detention facility in the Northeast today.
The lawsuit shows a key tension that continues to play out. While immigration is managed by the federal government, the detention system that EDC and Delaney Hall are a part of, has been forged by bipartisan support at the county and state levels and motivated by economic interests. The overlapping “war on crime” and “war on drugs” caused mass incarceration and immigration detention to become intertwined. Trump has built on this foundation, not created an entirely new system.
Understanding the current situation at Delaney Hall requires this historical context. More than 30 years ago, the EDC proved to federal and state leaders that privatized immigration detention could “work” in New Jersey, as long as the mistreatment and abuse of detained people could be kept out of the spotlight. But history also shows us that when detained community members resist through complaints, lawsuits, hunger strikes and, even, an uprising, their voices and experiences reveal the system’s underbelly and inspire systemic change. We hope that history will teach future generations that such efforts are worthwhile.
Ulla Berg is a migration scholar at Rutgers University and co-editor of the book, Elizabeth Detention Center: A Social History of Immigration Detention in New Jersey and the United States (Rutgers University Press, 2026).
Mary Rizzo is a historian at Rutgers University-Newark, and the co-author of a chapter in Elizabeth Detention Center.
Made by History takes readers beyond the headlines with articles written and edited by professional historians. Opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of The Inquirer.