Speaker 1: Calarugu Shark Media. Week three at Alligator Alcatraz started with
what the administration called operational transition planning and what everyone
else understood as controlled panic. See when a federal facility
gets shut down because of a corruption scandal, it don't
just close like a restaurant that can't pay the rent.
There's procedures to follow, investigations to coordinate, and about a
thousand ways for bureaucrats to turn a simple closure into
a bureaucratic disaster. The official word from Washington was that
all detainees would be systematically relocated to appropriate facilities over
the next seven days, which sounded orderly and professional until
you realize that nobody in charge had any idea where
eight hundred people were supposed to go, or how to
get them there, or what to do about the families
that Tommy and Elena had just finished reuniting. But the
real crisis wasn't the bureaucratic confusion. The real crisis was
what happened when desperate people realized they had one last
chance to take control of their own situations. Monday morning
of week three, I watched a man named Carlos Mendoza
stand at the fence looking out at the swamp, calculating
whether he could make it to dry land before the
water moccasins noticed he was there. Carlos had been separated
from his wife and two daughters for six weeks. Tommy's
network had located them in a facility in Arizona, but
now that Alligator Alcatraz was closing, there was no guarantee
Carlos would be transferred anywhere near them. For all he knew,
this was his last chance to avoid being scattered to
some other corner of the detention system. Carlos was planning
to escape, and if Tommy couldn't stop him, that escape
was going to destroy everything they'd built. This is episode
four the Escape Committee. Now you might think that one
man trying to escape wouldn't be much of a problem
in a place that was already falling apart, But Carlos
Mendoza wasn't just any detainee. He was one of the
people Tommy's network had been helping with family reunification. If
Carlos got caught trying to escape, the investigation would focus
on how he'd gotten the information about his family's location.
That investigation would lead to Tommy's underground telegraph and that
would expose Elena, whose whistleblowing had just brought down a
congressman but left her vulnerable to retaliation if anyone discovered
she was still operating inside the system. Tommy had about
twelve hours to convince Carlos not to throw his life
away on a desperate escape attempt that would destroy the
network that was helping hundreds of other families. The conversation
happened Tuesday morning behind the maintenance shed where Tommy had
been conducting his quiet business for three weeks. Carlos, Tommy said,
I know you're scared about the transfers. We all are,
but running ain't going to get you closer to your family.
Carlos was a small man with calloused hands and the
kind of quiet desperation that comes from watching your children
disappear into a system. You don't understand. They're going to
send me to Louisiana, he said. Elena found out my
wife and girls are in Arizona. How am I supposed
to get to them from Louisiana? Same way we got
David back to his mother, Tommy said, same way we
found your family in the first place. We use the system.
The system Carlos laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound.
The system separated us. The system put me here. The
system is about to scatter us again. Why should I
trust the system to help me? Tommy understood Carlos's frustration,
but he also understood something Carlos didn't. Sometimes, the best
way to beat the system is to let it think
it's winning while you work around it. Because Tommy said,
Elena's got a plan. Elena's plan was typically brilliant and
completely insane. Since the facility closure was creating chaos in
the transfer system, she was going to use that chaos
to engineer administrative errors that would route people toward their
families instead of away from them. See, when you're moving
eight hundred people to different facilities across the country, there's
a lot of paperwork involved, transfer orders, transportation schedules, facility
capacity reports, medical clearances, and when that paperwork has to
be processed quickly by a bureaucracy that's already in crisis mode,
mistakes are inevitable. Elena knew exactly what kinds of mistakes
were most likely to happen, and more importantly, how to
make sure those mistakes happened in the right direction. She'd
spent three weeks quietly observing the facilities, administrative procedures, mapping
out who had access to which systems, and identifying the
bottlenecks where a small change could have big consequences. Now
she was going to put that knowledge to work. The key,
Elena explained to Tommy, is that we're not trying to
break the system. We're trying to help it fail in
ways that benefit people instead of hurting them. Carlos would
be transferred to Louisiana, just like his paperwork said, but
through a series of clerical errors and rooting adjustments, his
final destination would be a facility outside Phoenix, less than
fifty miles from where his wife and daughters were being held.
It was an escape. It was what Elena called assisted
navigation through bureaucratic inefficiency. But first they had to make
sure Carlos didn't do anything stupid that would draw attention
to their operation. Convincing Carlos to trust the system that
had betrayed him was like convincing someone to walk back
into a burning building. But Tommy had something that bureaucrats
never understood. He had credibility with people who had no
reason to trust authority. Look, Tommy said, three weeks ago,
Maria was standing at that fence every morning looking for
her son. You remember that, Carlos nodded David's with her. Now,
not because the system worked the way it was supposed to,
but because we made it work different. Elena and Luis
and Pete and Maria and a dozen other folks. We
figured out how to make things happen without waiting for permission.
Tommy pointed toward the housing units where families were gathering
for the evening meal that had become a community ritual
over the past three weeks. You see that that's not
what they planned when they built this place. They plan
to break people down, separate families, make everyone so desperate
they'd sign whatever papers were put in front of them.
But we built something different. We built a community. Carlos
was quiet for a long moment, watching the families who'd
been reunited through Tommy's network. But what happens when they
transfer us all? He asked, what happens to the community.
Then Tommy smiled, that's the beautiful part, he said. They
can transfer us, but they can't transfer what we learned.
Every person who goes to a new facility carries this
with them, the knowledge, the connections, the understanding that people
don't have to be helpless just because they're in detention.
That's when Carlos understood what Tommy was really building, not
just a network for solving problems at Alligator Alcatraz, but
a model that could work anywhere. People were being processed
by systems that didn't care about their humanity. But Carlos
wasn't the only person thinking about escape. Tuesday afternoon, Tommy
discovered that three other men were planning their own break
for freedom, and their plan was a lot more dangerous
than anything Carlos had been considering. Miguel Restrepo, Jose Vargas,
and Antonio Silva were planning to steal one of the
guard boats during the evening shift change and try to
navigate through the everglades to reach the main highway. These
weren't men who'd been helped by Tommy's network. They were
newer arrivals who'd been processed during the chaos of the
facility closure and hadn't been integrated into the community that
Tommy had built. They didn't trust the underground telegraph. They
didn't believe in Elena's bureaucratic jiu jitsu, and they sure
didn't want to wait around to see where the transfer
system would send them. They were going to make their
own escape, regardless of the consequences for everyone else. The
problem was that their escape plan was guaranteed to fail
in the most spectacular way possible. None of them knew
how to operate a boat, none of them understood the
Everglades Waterway system, and none of them had any idea
how to navigate through a swamp that had been confusing
people for centuries. If they tried their escape, they'd either drown,
get eaten by alligators, or get caught within hours and
bring down a security crackdown that would destroy everything Tommy's
network had accomplished. Tommy had to stop them without exposing
his own operation or getting anyone in trouble with the authorities.
He needed what Old Pete called creative intervention. Pete Tran
had been watching the three potential escapees for two days,
and he'd come to the same conclusion as Tommy. Their
plan was suicide with extra steps. They're going to take
Boat three, Pete said, pointing toward the smallest of the
guard boats that was moored near the administrative building. That's
the one with the engine that stalls if you don't
know how to work the choke. They'll get about half
a mile before they're stranded. And then, Tommy asked, then
they'll try to swim, and then they'll discover that the
water between here and the highway is about ten miles
of the most dangerous swamp in Florida, full of gaiters, snakes, sinkholes,
and patches of water that look solid until you step
on them. I'd spent forty years working these waters, and
he knew every current, every hazard, every trick that the
Everglades used to kill people who thought they were smarter
than the swamp. Best case scenario, Pete continued, they get
lost and the coast guard finds them before they die
of exposure. Worst case, we're reading about them in the
newspaper as an example of why detention security needs to
be increased. Tommy realized that the solution wasn't to stop
the escape, it was to make sure it failed in
a way that didn't hurt anyone. Pete, he said, how
would you sabotage a boat so it looked like mechanical
failure instead of sabotage Pete smiled, son, I've been making
boats fail to start for longer than you've been alive.
Question is, what do we do with three grown men
when they're stranded in the middle of a swamp. That's
when Tommy outlined what he called Operation Rescue Mission, a
plan that would turn a dangerous escape attempt into an
opportunity to demonstrate the competence of Tommy's network while making
the administration look like heroes. The escape attempt happened Wednesday night,
exactly as Pete had predicted. Miguel, Jose and Antonio slipped
away during the evening shift change, made their way to
the boat dock and attempted to start the engine on
Boat three. The engine turned over a few times, sputtered,
and died. They tried again, same result. What they didn't
know was that Pete had spent the afternoon making subtle
adjustments to the fuel system that would allow the boat
to start but not run for more than ten minutes
at a time. After about twenty minutes of trying to
get the engine running properly, the three men managed to
get the boat started and headed out into the canal
system that surrounded Alligator Alcatraz. Tommy was watching from the
housing unit windows, along with about fifty other people who'd
been quietly informed that something interesting was about to happen.
The boat made it about half a mile before the
engine died completely, leaving three men stranded in a small
boat in the middle of a dark swamp with no paddles,
no navigation equipment, and no idea how to get back
to shore. That's when phase two of Tommy's plan began.
Luis appeared at the guard station to report that he'd
seen men in the water and was concerned for their safety.
Maria mentioned to one of the kitchen staff that she'd
heard shouting from the direction of the canal, and Elena,
using her knowledge of bureaucratic procedures, suggested to Deputy Warden
mackenzie that the facility should conduct an immediate safety check
of all detainees to ensure that everyone was accounted for.
Within an hour, the guard staff had discovered that three
men were missing and that there was an unauthorized boat
somewhere in the waterway system around the facility. What followed
was what Deputy Warden Chet mackenzie later described as a
textbook example of crisis response coordination and what everyone else
recognized as a comedy of errors that somehow resulted in
a successful rescue operation. McKenzie immediately activated what he called
Emergency Protocol seven, a plan that involved alerting the Coast Guard,
notifying state and federal law enforcement, and coordinating a multi
agency search and rescue operation. The problem was that none
of the agencies involved had any experience with a specific
waterway system around Alligator Alcatraz, which had been created by
the facility's own drainage disasters over the previous three weeks.
The Coast Guard dispatched boats that were too large to
navigate the shallow canals, the state police sent helicopters that
couldn't see anything through the swamp canopy, and the Federal
marshals arrived with equipment designed for urban fugitive recovery, not
swamp navigation. Meanwhile, Pete had quietly launched one of the
other facility boats with Tommy Luis and two other men
who actually knew how to operate in the Everglades. Pete
navigated directly to the spot where he knew the escape
peas would be stranded, a small island of solid ground
at two miles from the facility, where the current would
have pushed their disabled boat. They found Miguel, Jose and
Antonio exactly where Pete had predicted, wet, scared, covered in
mosquito bites, and extremely grateful to see anyone who looked
like they might be able to get them back to civilization.
You boys looked like you might need some help, Pete said,
as they pulled the three men into their boat. How
did you find us, Miguel asked, well, Pete said, I've
been working these waters since before you were born, and
when you know the water, the water tells you where
everything is. The rescue operation that followed was a masterpiece
of bureaucratic theater. Pete navigated back to the facility with
the three escape detainees, but instead of returning directly to
the dock, he radioed ahead to let the authorities know
that he'd located the missing men and was bringing them
back safely. This allowed Deputy Warden mackenzie to coordinate the
official rescue with the Coast Guard, state Police, and federal marshals,
making it look like the multi agency response had been successful.
The three escapees were returned to the facility wet, tired,
and completely cured of any desire to try navigating the
Everglades on their own. They'd learned firsthand why the swamp
was considered more effective than razor wire for keeping people
from wandering off. But more importantly, they'd learned something about
the community that Tommy had built. See. Instead of turning
them in or letting them face the consequences of their
escape attempt alone, Tommy's network had quietly orchestra their rescue
in a way that protected them from serious punishment while
demonstrating to the administration that the detainee population could be
trusted to help with crisis management. Mackenzie issued a statement
praising the cooperative attitude of the detainee population and their
valuable assistance in the successful rescue operation. He recommended that
similar community engagement protocols be implemented at other facilities as
examples of innovative detention management. The Coast Guard commended the
facility's effective emergency response procedures, the State Police noted the
excellent interagency coordination, and the Federal Marshals included the incident
in their report as an example of successful fugitive recovery operations.
Everyone took credit for a rescue that had been engineered
by people they were planning to deport. But the most
important result of the escape attempt was what it did
for community morale. During the final week of the facilities operation, Miguel,
Jose and Antonio went from being outsiders who didn't trust
anyone to being part of the network that had saved
them from their own bad decisions. They started helping with
the work that needed to be done, sharing information about
transfer schedules, and looking out for other people who might
be tempted to try desperate measures. More importantly, their rescue
demonstrated to everyone at the facility that Tommy's Network didn't
just help people when things were going well. It was
there for people when they made mistakes, when they were scared,
when they were desperate enough to make dangerous choices. Word
got around, as word always does in places where people
have nothing to do but talk to each other. Tommy's
people had engineered the whole thing not to embarrass the
three men who tried to escape, but to make sure
they didn't get hurt and to prove that the community
could take care of its own. By Thursday morning, Tommy's
Network had gone from being a group of people who
helped with practical problems to being the unofficial leadership of
the entire facility. People came to them with questions about
transfer procedures, concerns about where they were being sent, problems
with paperwork, and requests for help contacting family members. Elena
was running what amounted to a legal aid clinic out
of the library, Luis was teaching survival skills to people
who were going to be transferred to facilities in unfamiliar climates,
and Pete was sharing knowledge about how to read bureaucratic
systems and navigate institutional procedures. Tommy had created something that
was more than a network or community. He'd created a
school for surviving the immigration detention system, and with only
three days left before the facility closed, he was running
out of time to make sure that education would continue
after everyone was scattered across the country. Thursday evening, Tommy
called what he described as a planning meeting, but what
everyone understood was a graduation ceremony for the community they'd
built over the past three weeks. About two hundred people
gathered in the recreation area behind housing unit see families
sitting together in the humid Florida evening, listening to Tommy
explain what was going to happen over the next few days.
Tomorrow they start the transfers, Tommy said, some folks are
going to facilities in Texas, some to Louisiana, some to
Arizona and California. Some of y'all are going to be
released to await your hearings from outside detention. He paused,
looking out at faces he'd come to know over three
weeks of shared work and shared hope. But here's what
I want everyone to understand. What we built here don't
depend on this place. It depends on people, and everywhere
y'all go, you're carrying this with you. Tommy pointed to
Maria and David, sitting together with their arms around each other.
Maria knows how to organize food service and coordinate with
kitchen staff. David learned how to navigate bureaucratic procedures and
help people fill out paperwork. He gestured toward Louise. Louise
can teach people about foraging, about reading the environment, about
making any place more livable, and he knows how to
build trust with people who've never worked together before. Tommy
nodded toward Elena, who'd been sitting quietly at the edge
of the group. Elena understands how government systems actually work,
how to find the pressure points where small changes can
have big effects, and she knows how to turn bureaucratic
chaos into opportunities for people instead of disasters. Every one
of you, Tommy continued, learn something here that you can
use wherever you end up. Not just practical skills, but
something more important. You learn that you don't have to
be helpless just because you're in a system that treats
you like you don't matter what. Tommy described that Evening
was a network that would continue operating even after Alligator
Alcatraz was closed and everyone was scattered to different facilities.
Elena would maintain contact with people through the leadlegal aid
organizations that were monitoring the corruption cases. Luis would connect
with agricultural and environmental groups that could provide resources and support.
Maria would work with family reunification services and immigrant rights organizations,
and Pete Old Pete, who'd been teaching people to read
the currents and navigate dangerous waters. Pete would coordinate with
a network of commercial fishermen and boat operators along the
Gulf coast who'd been quietly helping people for years. What
we're creating, Tommy explained, is bigger than anyone facility or
anyone situation. We're creating a system that helps people survive
bureaucratic cruelty with their dignity intact, no matter where they
end up. It was an escape from the immigration detention system.
It was transformation of it, one person at a time,
one facility at a time, one family at a time.
Elina stood up and addressed the group in both English
and Spanish, explaining how the corruption investigation was going to
create opportunities for people to challenge their cases, to demand
proper legal representation, to insist on their rights to family reunification.
What happened here, she said, proves that even the most
powerful people can be brought down by the truth. And
the truth is that families belong together, that people deserve
to be treated with dignity, and that ordinary people working
together can accomplish extraordinary things. As the meeting ended and
people started returning to their housing units for what might
be their last night together, Tommy realized that he'd accomplished
something he'd never intended when he first arrived at Alligator Alcatraz.
He'd turned a detention center into a training ground for
immigration rights organizeds. Friday morning came with transfer buses lined
up outside the gate, like school buses at the end
of the academic year, ready to take people to new
facilities across the South and Southwest. But it also came
with something else, a delegation of lawyers, immigrant rights advocates,
and family reunification specialists who'd derived to monitor the transfer
process and provide legal assistance to people whose cases had
been affected by the corruption scandal. Elena had been busy
during her final week at Alligator Alcatraz. Using her contacts
in Washington and her knowledge of the legal aid network,
she'd arranged for the facility closure to be monitored by
every immigrant rights organization in Florida. The transfers weren't happening
in the shadows. They were happening under the watchful eyes
of people who would follow up on each case and
make sure that no one disappeared into the system. More importantly,
Elena had used her insider knowledge to identify people whose
detention was legally questionable, whose paperwork had been manipulated, whose
cases deserved immediate review. About sixty people were being released
directly from Alligator Alcatraz instead of being transferred to other facilities.
Among them was Carlos Mendoza, who would be reunited with
his wife and daughters in Phoenix within the week. Tommy
watched the buses load with a mixture of sadness and satisfaction.
Sadness because he was saying goodbye to people who'd become
family over three intensive weeks. Satisfaction because he knew that
the network they'd built was going to continue working long
after Alligator Alcatraz was nothing but a memory. As the
last bus pulled away, carrying Luis and Pete and Marie
and dozens of others to new challenges in new places,
Tommy realized that his own transfer paperwork was still being processed.
Unlike the others, Tommy wasn't being sent to another detention facility.
His case had been expedited for release, partly because of
the facility closure and partly because of Elena's behind the
scenes legal work. By Sunday, Tommy Esperanza would be free
to go wherever he wanted. The question was whether he
was ready to leave behind the work he'd started. Saturday evening,
with the facility nearly empty and the administrative staff packing
up their offices. Tommy and Elena sat by the canal
where it all started, watching the alligator's cruise through water
that was finally running clear. You did something remarkable here,
Elena said. You turned a place designed to break people
into a place that built them up. Tommy was quiet
for a moment, listening to the sounds of the everglades
settling into another night. We all did it, he said, Finally, you, Me, Louis, Pete, Maria, everyone,
We just proved that people don't have to accept cruelty
just because it comes with official authorization. Elena smiled. So
what happens now? You're free to go. You could disappear,
start over somewhere new, put all this behind you. Tommy
looked out at the empty buildings that would be demolished
within the month, at the canals that would be filled in,
at the land that would be returned to the wilderness
It had been before politicians decided to build their monument
to bureaucratic efficiency in the middle of a swamp. I've
been thinking about that, he said, and I realized something.
What we built here wasn't about this place. It was
about proving what's possible when people work together instead of
against each other. He turned to Elena, You're going to
keep fighting this system from the outside, using everything you
learned here to help other people write. Elena nodded. I've
got enough evidence to keep prosecutors busy for years, and
I know how to make sure that evidence gets to
people who can use it to help families instead of
just punish politicians. Then I reckon. My job ain't finished, either,
Tommy said. As week four of Alligator Alcatraz dawned, Tommy
faced the choice that would define everything that came after,
whether to take his freedom and disappear, or to use
what he'd learned to keep fighting for people who were
still trapped in systems designed to destroy their hope. It
wasn't really a choice at all.