There’s a basement about a fifteen-minute walk from where I live. It is small, cold, and perpetually lit. It can hold as many as seventy men for days at a time. The basement has one exposed toilet, with no doors, for the people it detains, which they use in front of one another. Sparse meals appear sporadically, sometimes at 3:00 a.m. and sometimes not at all. The men in this concrete, windowless cage sleep either standing up, leaning against one another for lack of space, or on the cold floor. The basement has a separate room for women; families of detainees there say the conditions appear to be the same.
Some of the people in the basement were put there by masked government agents. Some were on their way to or at work. Others were on the street, at home, or picking up their children from school. Eventually, their government might expel them to another country, maybe one they’ve never visited, far from their families, loved ones, attorneys and anybody who cares for them.
The father I met with looked like so many other parents, including my own.
Families and attorneys like me try to visit the basement. They spend hours outside of a locked door. They miss work and other necessary commitments for a chance to visit and provide some comfort. Some arrive carrying medicine their loved one needs – and they are forced to wait for hours too.
This basement doesn’t exist in Russia, or Hungary, or China. It sits below an American federal building in downtown Los Angeles. Federal taxpayers’ dollars keep it running. The ongoing immigration raids in the city keep it full.
I learned about the basement when a panicked son reached out for help from the Center for Human Rights and Constitutional Law, the non-profit that I lead and which files federal litigation to secure the rights of immigrants and refugees. His father was arrested by government agents, who violently pushed him to the ground, pepper sprayed his face, and dragged him off. He had already spent three nights imprisoned in the basement, as his son tried in vain to see him.
The only way to enter the space that houses the basement at 300 Los Angeles St. is down a vehicular driveway. There’s no signage or security check — only a glorified concrete stairwell that hosts a locked door, a call box, and cameras. Attorneys can show up at 8:00 a.m. to start their wait to meet their clients. All others must wait until 1:00 p.m. Visits end at 4:00 p.m.
When I arrived in the early morning, there was already a small crowd of lawyers, parents, children, and community members waiting. I made my plea to the call box, providing the name of the father I sought to meet. I was told that the staff were busy, and the wait would be long. For three hours, I stood in a concrete space, fly-infested and half exposed to the elements. The crowd grew, although several individuals, including attorneys, left before being able to meet the person they came to see.
Los Angeles stands as a lesson on the only proven ways to slow the flow of abductions.
I met a church pastor with a crowd of congregants, worry etched on each of their faces. I met an employer, U.S. passport in hand, seeking an employee who was abducted just as she arrived at her workplace. The passport proved her American citizenship.
After three hours, I was let into an air-conditioned, clean, and cavernous waiting room. Aisles of chairs sat empty. I was kept there, alone, for another hour, while the crowd outside continued to grow.
The father I met with looked like so many other parents, including my own. He should’ve been cradling his granddaughter, or watching Sabado Gigante, or dozing off on a plastic-wrapped couch. Instead, he had dark bruises on his face and body. A large, fresh cut marked his forehead. These were the legacy of the arrest he’d suffered through days before. His eyes were bloodshot and when he cried, his tears triggered the pepper spray he hadn’t been able to wash off, or rub off with the back of his hand, still hurt. He hadn’t seen a doctor or slept. The basement shouldn’t exist but it does. Members of Congress, worried family members, and others have tried to visit it without success. President Donald Trump, meanwhile, has promised to expand the raids that keep the basement full to Chicago, New York City, and other cities. Los Angeles stands as a lesson on the only proven ways to slow the flow of abductions. It isn’t letters and speeches: it’s brave folks who are working daily on the streets to protect their communities from ICE raids, attorneys demanding the release of individuals, and local officials who refuse to cooperate. Even so, the abductions continue. Soon, there might be a basement in your city. That means we all need to step up, in every way we can, to resist and fight the expanding efforts to terrorize our immigrant and refugee communities.
Sergio Perez
Sergio Perez is the executive director of the Center for Human Rights and Constitutional Law. 
