The Warehouse Wars: How ICE's $45 Billion Detention Expansion Sparked a National Uprising

The warehouse sits in an industrial park in Surprise, Arizona, stretching across 418,000 square feet—seven football fields of concrete and steel that Immigration and Customs Enforcement bought for $70 million cash. It's empty now, but federal plans would cram up to 8,000 immigrants inside, making it one of the largest detention facilities in American history.

Across the country, similar scenes are playing out as the Trump administration embarks on the most massive expansion of immigration detention ever attempted, converting commercial warehouses into what critics call "concentration camps" and supporters describe as necessary enforcement infrastructure.

What Happened

The controversy exploded into national headlines when ICE began purchasing massive warehouse facilities across the United States as part of a $45 billion detention expansion funded by Trump's recent tax legislation. In January alone, ICE spent $102 million on a warehouse in Washington County, Maryland, $84 million in Berks County, Pennsylvania, and over $70 million in Surprise, Arizona.

The purchases are part of Operation Metro Surge, which began in Minneapolis in December 2025 and expanded into what DHS called "the largest immigration enforcement operation ever carried out." But the operation took a deadly turn when two American citizens—Renée Nicole Macklin Good on January 7 and Alex Pretti on January 24—were killed by federal agents during enforcement raids in Minneapolis.

The deaths galvanized opposition that had already been building against the warehouse purchases. On January 30-31, over 300 "ICE Out of Everywhere" protests erupted nationwide, with organizers claiming 50,000 demonstrators marched in Minneapolis alone. Communities from Arizona to Virginia organized fierce resistance, with some property owners backing out of sales under public pressure.

The scale is staggering. DHS plans facilities that could house up to 10,000 people each—larger than many American cities. A proposed facility in El Paso, Texas, would hold 8,500 detainees, potentially making it among the largest jails of any kind in the country.

The federal government has moved aggressively despite local opposition. In Surprise, Arizona, hundreds of residents packed a city council meeting to protest, but Mayor Kevin Sartor told them the city was powerless—federal law trumps local control. A Canadian company in Ashland, Virginia, canceled its sale of a 550,000-square-foot warehouse after community backlash, but federal officials simply moved on to other targets.

Why It Matters

This isn't just about immigration policy—it's about the fundamental balance of power between federal authority and local communities. The warehouse expansion represents a 400% increase in ICE's annual detention budget, from roughly $2.8 billion to $11.25 billion per year. By the end of Trump's second term, the immigrant detention system could rival the entire federal criminal prison system in size.

"We in the city of Socorro have many residents who still don't have adequate water or sewer systems and now (DHS) is planning to put 8,500 people – plus all the contractors and staff – in our water system?" said Mayor Rudy Cruz Jr. "It sounds problematic how much water and electricity those facilities will require."

The controversy has created unlikely political alliances. Republican mayors and governors have joined Democrats in opposing facilities, citing infrastructure concerns and community safety. Even GOP Senator Roger Wicker opposed a facility in Mississippi, showing how the issue transcends traditional partisan lines.

Local communities face a harsh reality: federal courts have consistently ruled that ICE is "immune from any local regulation that interferes in any way with its federal mandate." A California law barring private detention facilities was struck down in 2023, and similar laws in New Jersey met the same fate.

The warehouses have become powerful symbols in a broader struggle over American identity. To supporters, they represent long-overdue enforcement of immigration law. To critics, they're concrete manifestations of authoritarian overreach, built with the kind of secretive, overwhelming federal power that the founders designed the Constitution to prevent.

The human cost is already mounting. The deaths in Minneapolis transformed abstract policy debates into visceral community trauma. Contractors have warned that facilities housing more than 1,500 people become inherently risky, yet federal plans call for facilities five times that size.

What's Next

The immediate crisis may be easing. Following massive protests and national scrutiny, Border Czar Tom Homan announced Wednesday that 700 federal agents would be withdrawn from Minnesota, with plans for a "complete drawdown" of the surge operation.

But the warehouse purchases continue. Federal officials are scouting locations nationwide, armed with unprecedented funding and legal immunity from local opposition. Communities are organizing preemptive resistance, studying the playbook developed in places like Surprise and Ashland.

Legal challenges are brewing. Civil rights groups are preparing constitutional challenges, though federal courts have consistently sided with ICE's authority. The Supreme Court may ultimately decide whether local communities have any power to resist federal detention facilities.

The 2026 midterm elections loom as a potential turning point. Democrats are using the warehouse controversy and the Minneapolis deaths as rallying cries, while Republicans face pressure from their own mayors and governors who oppose facilities in their communities.

Infrastructure reality will impose its own limits. Several proposed sites lack adequate water, sewer, or electrical capacity for massive detention centers. Some communities are exploring whether they can resist by refusing to upgrade infrastructure, though this risks harming existing residents.

The resistance movement shows no signs of slowing. Organizers are planning ongoing protests and direct action, while faith communities, labor unions, and immigrant rights groups build broader coalitions. The question isn't whether there will be more confrontations, but where and how intense they'll become.

The warehouses were supposed to be invisible—industrial buildings in industrial parks, far from prying eyes and protesting voices. Instead, they've become the most visible symbols of a nation grappling with its most fundamental questions about power, justice, and who gets to call America home.