Across the United States, a growing number of migrants are discovering that what appears to be a routine immigration hearing can instead become a carefully orchestrated trap for their deportation. In a series of incidents observed by The Associated Press, migrants who entered court expecting due process instead found themselves swiftly detained and removed from the country, often under circumstances that have drawn widespread concern from legal experts and human rights advocates.

In one such case, a Cuban man who had been living in the United States for years arrived at a courtroom for a scheduled hearing, bringing his wife, a legal resident, and their seven-month-old infant. Unbeknownst to him, the hearing had been strategically set up to facilitate his immediate removal. As soon as the government lawyer moved to dismiss his asylum claim, a judge approved the motion, making the man eligible for expedited deportation. Federal agents, in plainclothes, then swarmed him in the courthouse hallway, triggering a struggle as his wife’s cries echoed through the corridor. Text messages exchanged between the government attorney and an Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agent outside revealed the premeditated nature of the operation: four minutes later, the agent confirmed the arrest.

This type of coordinated courthouse operation has become a hallmark of the Trump administration’s immigration enforcement strategy, which has aggressively prioritized mass deportations. The administration’s hardline approach to immigration was a cornerstone of President Donald Trump’s 2024 campaign and has been implemented with unprecedented speed and intensity. Yet recent polling by the AP-NORC Center for Public Affairs Research suggests that public opinion may be shifting, with 57% of adults expressing disapproval of Trump’s handling of immigration.

Over several months, AP reporters observed immigration court proceedings in 21 cities, documenting how asylum claims are often dismissed without thorough consideration. The process is highly automated and coordinated: Homeland Security lawyers identify cases “amenable” to dismissal on spreadsheets, enabling ICE agents to immediately take detainees into custody once the court issues a ruling. Most targets are men who arrived in the U.S. alone, lack legal representation, and do not have criminal convictions. Contrary to official claims of targeting the “worst of the worst,” analyses by organizations such as the Cato Institute indicate that many detainees are law-abiding asylum seekers.

The immigration court system itself is a unique and vulnerable structure. Established in 1952 and formalized in 1973, immigration judges were only later granted robes and the title of “judge.” The Executive Office for Immigration Review (EOIR), created in 1983, remains under the Justice Department, giving the attorney general broad authority to override judicial decisions and terminate judges at will. Over the past nine months, nearly 90 immigration judges deemed too lenient by administration allies have been fired, with a total of 87 removed since Trump returned to office. Unlike federal judges with lifetime tenure, immigration judges serve at the will of the attorney general, leaving them subject to political influence and administrative pressure.

Former immigration judges and legal experts have described the courts as operating in a high-pressure, assembly-line fashion. Judges face performance metrics that emphasize case completion over thorough adjudication, including minimum annual quotas of 700 cases. Red, yellow, and green gauges track judge performance on completed cases and custody decisions, creating an environment where judges may feel compelled to expedite hearings at the expense of careful legal review. “It’s like deciding death penalty cases in a traffic court setting,” said Dana Leigh Marks, a retired immigration judge with 34 years of experience.

The Trump administration has further reshaped the courts by issuing dozens of policy memos that ease the hiring and firing of judges and emphasize alignment with the Department of Homeland Security’s enforcement objectives. Judges are referred to as “inferior officers,” a rare constitutional term, highlighting their precarious status. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth announced plans to assign 600 military lawyers to immigration courts, doubling the number of legal personnel available but raising concerns about experience and qualifications for adjudicating asylum claims. Immigration advocates argue that such measures undermine due process and jeopardize the integrity of the courts.

The consequences for migrants are profound. Many now avoid attending hearings in person, opting instead for virtual appearances or skipping court altogether. Families are torn apart, with children sometimes witnessing the detention and removal of parents. One illustrative case involved a Honduran family, including a young son in a wheelchair, who were apprehended seconds after a judge denied the government’s deportation request. The father was ultimately deported, leaving the family devastated.

Legal advocates have attempted to challenge these practices through federal habeas corpus petitions, which ask courts to determine whether detainees are being lawfully held. Since mid-May, more than 3,000 such petitions have been filed, creating a backlog in an already overwhelmed federal court system. Yet, for those without legal representation, the path to relief is often closed, as the administration has slashed programs that provided free legal aid to migrants. In April 2025, $30 million worth of assistance programs were eliminated, leaving migrants largely to represent themselves. Organizations such as American Gateways have attempted to fill this gap, setting up makeshift offices in courthouse parking lots to help migrants navigate the legal process.

The psychological toll on government attorneys and judges is also evident. Some officials report being haunted by the sound of shackles and the stress of orchestrating arrests for individuals who followed the law. The environment is described as isolating, with fear of reprisal pervasive among employees who voice concerns. Many DHS lawyers have expressed internal conflict over enforcing policies that result in the detention of non-criminal migrants.

Even judges who once valued fairness and impartiality have faced career-altering consequences. Judge Tania Nemer, whose father fled Lebanon, was terminated without explanation in February 2025, marking the first firing since Trump’s return. She and dozens of others were removed despite their experience and commitment to judicial independence. The majority of judges who were purged were hired under the Biden administration and had higher-than-average asylum approval rates, raising questions about whether their dismissal was politically motivated.

The changes have had a chilling effect on court proceedings. Requests to attend hearings online have tripled in denials, continuances to secure legal counsel are increasingly rejected, and cases are more frequently classified as abandoned. Meanwhile, voluntary departures have surged: more than 14,000 migrants requested court permission to self-deport in the first eight months of 2025, a number exceeding the combined total from the previous five years.

In essence, the U.S. immigration court system has become a tool for rapid deportation rather than adjudication. Migrants navigating these courts face a stark reality: appearing for a hearing can lead directly to detention and removal. The combination of court backlogs, political pressure, performance quotas, and aggressive DHS coordination has turned the judiciary into a mechanism that prioritizes speed and enforcement over fairness and due process.

The human cost is clear. Families are separated, children witness the detention of their parents, and vulnerable individuals—including survivors of torture or serious illness—face expedited removal. Lawyers, judges, and court personnel alike experience ethical dilemmas and personal stress as they operate within a system increasingly designed to meet deportation quotas rather than uphold justice.

The ongoing transformation of U.S. immigration courts highlights a fundamental tension: the balance between enforcing immigration law and preserving the principles of due process and fairness. For many migrants, what should be a forum for legal remedy has instead become a site of fear, uncertainty, and coercion, with consequences that resonate far beyond the courtroom.