Latest news with #Karnes
Al Arabiya
20 hours ago
- Politics
- Al Arabiya
New Insight Into Texas Family Detention Reveals Adults Fighting Kids for Clean Water
Adults fighting kids for clean water, despondent toddlers, and a child with swollen feet denied a medical exam – these firsthand accounts from immigrant families at detention centers, included in a motion filed by advocates Friday night, are offering a glimpse of conditions at Texas facilities. Families shared their testimonies with immigrant advocates filing a lawsuit to prevent the Trump administration from terminating the Flores Settlement Agreement, a 1990s-era policy that requires immigrant children detained in federal custody be held in safe and sanitary conditions. The agreement could challenge President Donald Trump's family detention provisions in his 'big, beautiful bill' of tax breaks and spending cuts, which also seeks to make the detention time indefinite and comes as the administration ramps up arrests. 'At a time when Congress is considering funding the indefinite detention of children and families, defending the Flores Settlement is more urgent than ever,' Mishan Wroe, a senior immigration attorney at the National Center for Youth Law, said in a statement Friday. Advocates with the center, as well as the Center for Human Rights and Constitutional Law, RAICES, and Children's Rights, contacted or visited children and their families held in two Texas family detention centers in Dilley and Karnes, which reopened earlier this year. The conditions of the family detention facilities were undisclosed until immigration attorneys filed an opposing motion Friday night before a California federal court. 'The oversight of the detention facilities was possible because of the settlement, and the visits help ensure standards compliance and transparency,' said Sergio Perez, the executive director of the Center for Human Rights and Constitutional Law. 'Without the settlement, those overseeing the facilities would lose access to them and could not document what is happening inside.' Out of ninety families who spoke to RAICES since March, forty expressed medical concerns, according to the court documents. Several testimonies expressed concern over water quantity and quality. Emails seeking comment were sent to the Office of Attorney General Pam Bondi and to CoreCivic and GEO Group, which operate the detention facilities in Dilley and Karnes, Texas, respectively. There was no response from either Bondi's office or the operators of the facilities by midday Saturday. One mother was told she would have to use tap water for formula for her nine-month-old, who had diarrhea for three days after, and a sixteen-year-old girl described people scrambling over each other for water. 'We don't get enough water. They put out a little case of water and everyone has to run for it,' said the declaration from the girl held with her mother and two younger siblings at the Karnes County Immigration Processing Center. 'An adult here even pushed my little sister out of the way to get to the water first.' Faisal al-Juburi, chief external affairs officer for RAICES, said Friday in a statement that the conditions 'only serve to reinforce the vital need for transparent and enforceable standards and accountability measures,' citing an 'unconscionable obstruction of medical care for those with acute, chronic, and terminal illnesses.' One family with a young boy with cancer said he missed his doctor's appointment after the family was arrested following their attendance to an immigration court hearing. He is now experiencing relapse symptoms, according to the motion. Another family said their nine-month-old lost over eight pounds (3.6 kilograms) while in detention for a month. Children spoke openly about their trauma during visits with legal monitors, including a twelve-year-old boy with a blood condition. He reported his feet became too inflamed to walk, and even though he saw a doctor, he was denied further testing. 'Now he stays mostly off his feet. It hurts when I walk,' he said in a court declaration. Arrests have left psychological trauma. A mother of a three-year-old boy who saw agents go inside his babysitter's home with guns said he started acting differently after detention. She said he now throws himself on the ground, bruises himself, and refuses to eat most days. Many of the families in detention were already living in the US, which reflects the recent shift from immigration arrests at the border to internal operations. Stephen Miller, White House deputy chief of staff and main architect of Trump's immigration policies, said US Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers would target at least 3,000 arrests a day, up from about 650 a day during the first five months of Trump's second term. Leecia Welch, the deputy legal director at Children's Rights, said that as bad as facility conditions are, they will only get worse as more immigrants are brought in. 'As of early June, the census at Dilley was around 300 and only two of its five areas were open,' Welch said of her visits. 'With a capacity of around 2,400 – it's hard to imagine what it would be like with 2,000 more people.' Pediatricians like Dr. Marsha Griffin with the American Academy of Pediatrics Council said they are concerned and are advocating across the country to allow pediatric monitors with child welfare experts inside the facilities. The Flores agreement is poised to become more relevant if Trump's legislation, called the 'One Big, Beautiful Bill Act,' passes with the current language allowing the indefinite detention of immigrant families, which is not allowed under the Flores agreement. Trump's legislation, approved by the House, also proposes setting aside $45 billion in funding, a threefold spending increase over the next four years, to expand ICE detention of adults and families. The Senate is now considering that legislation. Under these increased efforts to add more detention space, GEO Group, the same corporation operating the detention facility in Karnes, will soon be opening an infamous prison – which housed gangsters Al Capone and Machine Gun Kelly – for migrant detention in Leavenworth, Kansas. Immigration advocates argue that if the settlement were terminated, the government would need to create regulations that conform to the agreement's terms. 'Plaintiffs did not settle for policymaking – they settled for rulemaking,' the motion read. The federal government will have a chance to submit a reply brief. A court hearing is scheduled for mid-July.
The Independent
20 hours ago
- Health
- The Independent
New insight into Texas family detention reveals adults fighting kids for clean water
Adults fighting kids for clean water, despondent toddlers and a child with swollen feet denied a medical exam — these first-hand accounts from immigrant families at detention centers included in a motion filed by advocates Friday night are offering a glimpse of conditions at Texas facilities. Families shared their testimonies with immigrant advocates filing a lawsuit to prevent the Trump administration from terminating the Flores Settlement Agreement, a '90s-era policy that requires immigrant children detained in federal custody be held in safe and sanitary conditions. The agreement could challenge President Donald Trump's family detention provisions in his 'big, beautiful' bill of tax breaks and spending cuts, which also seeks to made the detention time indefinite and comes as the administration ramps up arrests. 'At a time when Congress is considering funding the indefinite detention of children and families, defending the Flores Settlement is more urgent than ever,' Mishan Wroe, a senior immigration attorney at the National Center for Youth Law, said in a statement Friday. Advocates with the center, as well as the Center for Human Rights and Constitutional Law, RAICES and Children 's Rights contacted or visited children and their families held in two Texas family detention centers in Dilley and Karnes, which reopened earlier this year. The conditions of the family detention facilities were undisclosed until immigration attorneys filed an opposing motion Friday night before a California federal court. The oversight of the detention facilities was possible because of the settlement, and the visits help ensure standards compliance and transparency, said Sergio Perez, the executive director of the Center for Human Rights and Constitutional Law. Without the settlement, those overseeing the facilities would lose access to them and could not document what is happening inside. Out of 90 families who spoke to RAICES since March, 40 expressed medical concerns, according to the court documents. Several testimonies expressed concern over water quantity and quality. Emails seeking comment were sent to the Office of Attorney General Pam Bondi and to CoreCivic and Geo Group, which operate the detention facilities in Dilley and Karnes, Texas, respectively. There was no response from either Bondi's office or the operators of the facilities by midday Saturday. One mother was told she would have to use tap water for formula for her 9-month-old, who had diarrhea for three days after, and a 16-year-old girl described people scrambling over each other for water. 'We don't get enough water. They put out a little case of water, and everyone has to run for it," said the declaration from the girl held with her mother and two younger siblings at the Karnes County Immigration Processing Center. 'An adult here even pushed my little sister out of the way to get to the water first.' Faisal Al-Juburi, chief external affairs officer for RAICES, said Friday in a statement that the conditions 'only serve to reinforce the vital need for transparent and enforceable standards and accountability measures," citing an 'unconscionable obstruction of medical care for those with acute, chronic, and terminal illnesses.' One family with a young boy with cancer said he missed his doctor's appointment after the family was arrested following their attendance to an immigration court hearing. He is now experiencing relapse symptoms, according to the motion. Another family said their 9-month old lost over 8 pounds (3.6 kilograms) while in detention for a month. Children spoke openly about their trauma during visits with legal monitors, including a 12-year-old boy with a blood condition. He reported his feet became too inflamed to walk, and even though he saw a doctor, he was denied further testing. Now, he stays mostly off his feet. 'It hurts when I walk,' he said in a court declaration. Arrests have left psychological trauma. A mother of a 3-year-old boy who saw agents go inside his babysitter's home with guns started acting differently after detention. She said he now throws himself on the ground, bruises himself and refuses to eat most days. Growing concerns as ICE ramps up operations Many of the the families in detention were already living in the U.S. which reflects the recent shift from immigration arrests at the border to internal operations. Stephen Miller, White House deputy chief of staff and main architect of Trump's immigration policies, said U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers would target at least 3,000 arrests a day, up from about 650 a day during the first five months of Trump's second term. Leecia Welch, the deputy legal director at Children's Rights said that as bad as facility conditions are, they will only get worse as more immigrants are brought in. 'As of early June, the census at Dilley was around 300 and only two of its five areas were open," Welch said of her visits. "With a capacity of around 2,400 – it's hard to imagine what it would be like with 2,000 more people.' Pediatricians like Dr. Marsha Griffin with the American Academy of Pediatrics Council said they are concerned and are advocating across the country to allow pediatric monitors with child welfare experts inside the facilities. Future of detention without Flores agreement The Flores agreement is poised to become more relevant if Trump's legislation called the ' One Big Beautiful Bill Act ' passes with the current language allowing the indefinite detention of immigrant families, which is not allowed under the Flores agreement. Trump's legislation approved by the House also proposes setting aside $45 billion in funding, a threefold spending increase, over the next four years to expand ICE detention of adults and families. The Senate is now considering that legislation. Under these increased efforts to add more detention space, GeoGroup, the same corporation operating the detention facility in Karnes, will soon be opening an infamous prison — which housed gangsters Al Capone and Machine Gun Kelly — for migrant detention in Leavenworth, Kansas. Immigration advocates argue that if the settlement were terminated, the government would need to create regulations that conform to the agreement's terms. 'Plaintiffs did not settle for policy making— they settled for rulemaking," the motion read. The federal government will have a chance to submit a reply brief. A court hearing is later scheduled for mid-July.
Miami Herald
22-05-2025
- Politics
- Miami Herald
Dear ICE: Let detained Ukrainian couple buy their own plane tickets to safe 3rd country
Liudmyla Karnes is a Topeka, Kansas, IT specialist and Ukrainian-born naturalized U.S. citizen who loved this country long before she came here 17 years ago. When Russia first invaded Ukraine, Karnes naturally feared for the safety of her sister and three young nieces just a few miles from the fighting — and reports of systematic rapes by soldiers — in Dnipro. So she bought them plane tickets, met them in Tijuana, Mexico, waited four days in line with them at the border, along with thousands of other Ukrainians, and accompanied them in through the port of entry in San Ysidro, California. Everyone was flying a Ukrainian flag in those days, and it was no problem bringing her loved ones to Kansas, either. 'They were welcomed with open arms,' says Karnes, not only by our government, which has granted and extended their humanitarian parole several times, most recently through October of next year, but by their new neighbors in Topeka. 'Everyone did something nice for them.' Since then, her sister has married a Ukrainian-born American serving in the U.S. military, and has applied for a green card. Karnes' younger brother Oleksii Sechyn and his common-law wife Svitlana Zhovanik, who both have college degrees and work with computers, too, did not come from Kyiv then, though they could have. That's because Sechyn, who himself has a serious autoimmune condition, was caring for his mother, who died of cancer last year. When Sechyn, who is 35, and Zhovanik, 32, finally did leave, they stayed first in Poland, then in France. In January, they flew to Mexico, where Karnes met them just a few days before Donald Trump was inaugurated. Yes, the timing was terrible, but when caring for a dying parent, were they supposed to hurry? Back in Karnes' home country, 'every night they're still bombing,' she says. 'My sister and I are Oleksii's only family in the world. I have a house and a job and wanted them to be away from those horrors. I wanted him to have the wonderful opportunities I have. I wanted him to visit the beautiful places we have in the States. I wanted them to have a beautiful life together.' Of course she did. 'The handcuffs were really tight' So at the San Luis border crossing in Arizona on Jan. 16, Karnes was with Sechyn and Zhovanik when they told border agents that they were seeking humanitarian parole — just as her sister and nieces had done three years earlier. But this time, the border agents said —understatement alert — that things had changed. Their request was denied. Then they asked for asylum as refugees. And in response, according to Karnes, they were all handcuffed and searched. 'It was scary, and the handcuffs were really tight.' This was particularly painful for her because one of her arms is shorter than the other, and she was handcuffed behind her back. After several hours, they released her, but said that if her brother and his wife were seeking asylum, then they would have to be detained while their case was decided. It would only be a couple of weeks max though, before they were let go, the officers at the border assured them. That was four months ago, and they have been in Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention facilities ever since — he in the Folkston ICE Processing Center in Georgia, and she in the Eloy Detention Center in Arizona. They both failed their 'credible fear' interviews that would have gotten them a fuller hearing, and their appeals of those denials failed, too. Why anyone living in Kyiv right now would not have credible fear doesn't make sense to Karnes: 'Those missiles are hitting residential areas and hospitals; what do you mean your fear is denied?' Her brother and his wife have no arrest record anywhere, according to the paperwork their immigration attorney prepared for ICE. In fact, they are the kind of professionals that the president says he wants to come here. Karnes has a home all ready for them, or did have. 'My main desire is for them to come and live here with me.' But after the last four terrible months in custody, where, according to Sechyn's sister, he's fed less all the time and paid $2 for washing floors for four hours a day, they've given up on seeking asylum here. 'They're trying to break him and make him want to leave.' And they have. All Sechyn and Zhovanik want now is to be sent to some third, neutral country that's accepting Ukrainian refugees without a visa, as most countries are. In a statement to me sent through his sister, Sechyn said, 'We came here to ask for help and refuge, and instead they detained us and are holding us against our will for such a long time. We would like them to let us leave, or at least deport us to a third neutral country.' His stressed-out, but very brave and loyal sister, said: 'They've made people sorry for asking for refuge in the middle of the war. How humane is that?' 'They never got that far' On paper, Sechyn's case was closed on Feb. 14. If he were from, say, Mexico, he and his wife would have been deported back to his home country long ago. But under international law, it would be illegal to send them back to a war zone. And even if we were willing to overlook that nicety, it would be hard to do that since the airspace over Ukraine is closed. Their New York-based lawyer, Inessa Faulkner, told me she thinks if she could get somebody at ICE to actually look at the requests she keeps filing and refiling, they'd realize that this is not another case of someone asking to be released into the United States, as so many others are. 'They are flooded with those, and I don't think they're even reading this one,' she told me. 'I encounter just this wall.' And what she hears back is — nothing at all. Faulkner said that their expedited order of removal to Ukraine was issued on the day of their entry to the U.S. 'But the task now is, is it fair that my client was not given an alternative to discuss?' In fact, since he was never heard before an actual judge, there would have been no forum for him to raise the fact that he could and would be glad to go just about anywhere elsewhere. Since he and his wife didn't pass their 'credible fear' interviews, 'they never got that far.' In March, someone at ICE advised Faulkner to send a letter by mail if she was serious that her clients could pay for their own way out; that letter was sent on March 26. But again, no response. 'My client is very ill, needs to get out and wants to pay for it' — for going anywhere except back into a war. And I want someone, anyone, at ICE to read her many petitions, see that they have merit, and see that even for those for whom humanitarian concerns are footnotes, there's no reason we should keep paying to incarcerate these non-criminals who want to get on the next plane out of here at their own expense.
Yahoo
06-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Trump is jailing immigrant families again. A mother, father and teen tell of ‘anguish on a daily basis'
default default When Jade and her family first arrived at the detention facility in Karnes county, Texas, she wasn't really sure what to think. 'I guess I was confused and scared,' said the 13-year-old. Her parents were doing their best to reassure her that everything would be OK, but she knew they were in danger of being deported. She and her parents were one of the first to be sent to Karnes – one of two detention centers the Trump administration has commissioned to hold immigrant families. At first, she was the only kid – as far as she could tell – in the sprawling beige structure. Immigration officials had confiscated her family's belongings, including her phone and her Nintendo Switch. There were a few books and games at the detention center, and a playground – but little else to distract her from her worries. 'I just didn't know what would happen to us,' she said. The Texas-based legal non-profit Raices said it was aware of at least 100 families held at Karnes since early March, after the Trump administration restarted the practice known as 'family detention' – locking up children along with their parents. Those detained include families who had recently crossed into the US, as well as those swept up in cities across the country. Among the youngest detainees was a one-year-old child. Jade and her parents, Jason and Gabriela, are among the first to speak out about the conditions inside Karnes since being released. Now, back home in Mississippi, Jade said she's still trying to make sense of what happened. 'I don't know how to explain it. It was weird,' she said. 'I still feel confused and scared.' The Biden administration suspended family detention in 2021 amid growing reports of sexual harassment and violence, medical neglect and inadequate food. The Trump administration has not only reinstated the practice, but Trump's border czar, Tom Homan, has said the administration would seek to challenge a longstanding settlement that limits the amount of time children can be held in detention. The Department of Homeland Security (DHS) assistant secretary Tricia McLaughlin said that 'adults with children are housed in facilities that adequately provide for their safety, security, and medical needs'. But human rights groups and pediatricians have said that these facilities – which are operated by private prison companies – are inherently harmful. In a letter to the Trump administration, several leading healthcare and pediatric groups, including the American Academy of Pediatrics, emphasized that 'detention itself poses a threat to child health' and 'even short periods of detention can cause psychological trauma and long-term mental health risks'. 'Children experience time differently than adults do, and even brief periods of detention can have long term devastating consequences on a child's development,' said Elora Mukherjee, director of the Immigrants' Rights Clinic at Columbia Law School. 'It's cruel.' 'I wanted to cry the whole time' Jade and her family had fled a surge of violence in Colombia in 2022, and had managed to make a good life for themselves in Mississippi. But things changed this year as the Trump administration ramped up its immigration crackdown. Jade was afraid to go to school, worried that immigration agents could come find her there, or take her parents while she was away. Jason and Gabriela had trouble finding work – employers had become squeamish about hiring workers without a legal status. 'It was a very, very tough situation – it had become impossible to continue living here,' Jason told the Guardian in Spanish. So they decided to leave. Jade packed up her most prized possessions, including her Nintendo and all her favorite clothes. 'I was like, I'm excited,' she said. 'I'm going to Canada. I'm going to make new friends.' But they never made it to Canada. At first, they encountered Canadian border agents and tried to explain they were seeking asylum. But those agents told them they'd be ineligible, and turned them over to US border officials. 'That's when everything got out of hand,' Jason said. Agents handcuffed him and Gabriela, and drove them to Plattsburgh, New York and then Buffalo. 'I wanted to cry the whole time,' Gabriela said. 'Our daughter had never seen us like that – handcuffed like prisoners,' Jason added. In Buffalo, they were released from the cuffs, and sent via commercial flight to Texas. 'The whole time we are trying to reassure our daughter, 'Amor, nothing is wrong, it's OK,'' Gabriela said. 'But we didn't have anything to distract her with, because she didn't even have her Nintendo, her cellphone, she didn't have her tablet, she couldn't listen to music.' By the time they entered the detention center – a sprawling concrete facility set against the dusty landscape of Karnes county, Texas – they were exhausted. 'We were in a state of shock,' Gabriela told the Guardian. 'Maximum shock – because we didn't know what would happen to us.' Jade was too young to remember the violence her family had left behind in Colombia, but Jason and Gabriela's minds constantly flashed back to the threats and extortion they had faced. 'It was anguish on a daily basis,' she said. During their first few days in detention, they didn't know who to call for help. 'How else do we fight for ourselves? We have nothing here,' Jason said. 'Each day like this was torture.' Officials had confiscated all their things, and the family was given second-hand clothes and towels to use. They were able to buy minutes to make phone calls, but it was expensive. Gabriela and Jason struggled to find the words to help their daughter. 'Imagine seeing your child sad because they can't go to school. And you can't even say, 'Let's go to the corner. Let's go get ice cream. Or some chips,'' Gabriela said. 'How do you explain any of this to a child? Your mom can't do anything for you, your dad can't do anything.' 'She's entering adolescence and everything that happens to her now will mark her. Everything that has happened could have broken her in some form, traumatized her,' she added. 'That's what distresses me as a mother.' Eventually a few other families arrived at the facility, including siblings aged three, six and eight. The youngest ones didn't understand what was happening, so they weren't as scared as she was – but they were just as tired, Jade said. She liked when the radio played at the detention center, especially when the Weeknd came on. 'That's my favorite singer,' she said. 'I just tried to sit on the grass and listen, and look at the sky.' Relief finally came when they were able to connect with lawyers from Raices, who have been working with several families held at the detention center. Jade, Jason and Gabriela were finally released on 25 March – after about three weeks in detention – and their lawyers are now helping them seek legal status to remain in the US. All the families that were at Karnes have since been transferred to a bigger detention facility in Dilley, Texas – which is more remote. 'The bottom line is that these individuals have final deportation orders from federal judges,' said McLaughlin of the DHS. 'This administration is not going to ignore the rule of law.' Raices said that assertion is 'objectively untrue'. Immigration judges are not the same as federal judges. And as a result of Donald Trump's asylum ban at the southern border, 'many families have not even appeared in front of immigration judges', said Faisal Al-Juburi of Raices. At the same time, the administration ended several legal service and education initiatives for immigrants – narrowing opportunities for families inside the center to connect with lawyers, Al-Juburi said. The immigrant rights organization also contests the DHS's assertion that Dilley has been adequately retrofitted for children. The facility, which is run by the private prison company CoreCivic, is not a licensed childcare facility and thus a violation of the protections afforded children under the Flores Settlement Agreement, a decades-old consent decree that requires the government to hold children in the least restrictive setting and release them as quickly as possible. How family detentions began, ended, and began again The Trump administration isn't the first to detain families. For decades, Democratic and Republican administrations have held immigrant families in specialized facilities – and the practice has elicited widespread criticism from pediatricians and mental health experts, and lawsuits from human rights groups. The family detention system took its lasting shape in 2001, and particularly post-9/11. The Bush administration had wanted to ramp up immigrant detention, and promoted family detention as an alternative to separating families and sending children to shelters while their parents were detained. Reports of human rights abuses in these facilities quickly followed. Families with children were held in prison-like conditions, with limited privacy and access to the outdoors. There was inadequate food and medical care, and reports of sexual abuse by guards. But family detention didn't stop. Even as advocates sued the government and campaigned to close some family facilities, the government built others. In 2014, as families and unaccompanied children began increasingly arriving at the US southern border, the Obama administration contracted with private prison companies to open the Karnes and Dilley facilities, and the US family detention program grew to its largest since the internment of Japanese Americans in the 1940s. Legal challenges to the practice continued. In 2015 a judge ordered the release of children with their mothers, but then the first Trump administration pushed, unsuccessfully, to indefinitely detain families. In 2018, a 21-month old toddler who became sick while being held at the Dilley detention center died of her symptoms shortly after being released. Though the Biden administration stopped detaining families in 2021 – opting instead to track immigrant families via electronic monitoring and regular check-in appointments – it left in place most of the infrastructure to restart the practice. And earlier this year, the Trump administration did just that. Karnes, which the Biden administration used to hold adults, was recommissioned to hold families. Dilley, which had closed in 2024, reopened last month. Karnes, operated by the private contractor Geo Group, is more like a traditional adult prison retrofitted with play sets, said Javier Hidalgo, the legal director at Raices. Cinderblock walls are painted with murals of zoo animals. Families are allowed to be together during the day, but at night, mothers and children sleep together while fathers sleep in separate dorms. The South Texas Family Residential Center in Dilley, meanwhile, is more akin to an 'internment camp', said Hidalgo. Before it was a detention center, it was a migrant labor camp. But in the end, both centers are, 'essentially, jails', he said. In past years, the centers were commonly used to hold families newly arriving at the southern border. Officials kept families detained while evaluating their eligibility for asylum, and released them into the US if they passed an initial screening. But the Trump administration has suspended asylum requests at the border, and unauthorized crossings have dropped precipitously. Many of the families in detention now have been apprehended by Immigrations and Customs Enforcement (Ice) officials in cities and towns across the US. Some were picked up at traffic stops, and others were arrested despite complying with orders to check in regularly with Ice. 'Some of the families in detention have been here for a long time,' said Hidalgo. And it's unclear how long the administration will be willing to detain these parents and children, including those with pending legal proceedings that could take months to resolve, he said. 'Keeping them detained seems like it's for the purpose of punishing families, and deterring them.' At least one other family held at Karnes – asylum seekers from Venezuela including a six-year-old and an eight-year-old – had also been arrested at the Canadian border, while trying to leave, according to Raices. Others included the nationals of various countries, including Brazil, Romania, Iran, Angola, Russia, Armenia and Turkey. 'I've been working on issues of family detention for years,' said Mukherjee, who has litigated on behalf of children and families who have faced medical neglect and abuse at various facilities. 'And I can't believe we're doing the same thing again, almost 20 years later. Reopening of family detention centers exemplifies the cruelty that is animating the Trump administration's immigration policies.' Back in Mississippi Now that she is back in Mississippi, Jade said she feels calmer, she said.'But I haven't told most of my friends that I'm back, and I can't take it any more,' she said. 'I just told one friend, a good friend, and he said he wouldn't tell anyone else.' She doesn't know how to explain to them what happened to her family, or how uncertain their lives still are. It's not like she knows how much longer they'll get to stay in Mississippi. It could take months or longer for lawyers to work out their immigration case. In the meantime, they remain afraid of being swept up in the administration's immigration crackdown once again. So they've been lying low, at home. It's a bit barren, because the family had either sold or packed up most of their things before heading to Canada. But they are glad to be able to wear their own, freshly laundered clothes, Gabriela said. Jason was wearing a shirt printed with stars and stripes. When Jade pointed out to her dad that it also had the words 'Land of the free' ('Tierra de los libres' she translated) printed across the left side, the whole family began laughing. He'd actually bought it to wear for the Fourth of July. 'Actually we have lots of shirts like this – we're quite patriotic,' Gabriela said. They have baseball caps with flags, and red, white and blue outfits for the whole family. 'We just fell in love with this country. We love the security, the people. It's a beautiful place where we live, in Mississippi. We are actually very much in love with this place.' They never wanted to leave. 'It is tough, but I have told my wife and daughter that we have to live now, because life may end tomorrow,' said Jason. 'Here we have known freedom. Here we get to prolong life a little bit longer.' The Guardian is not using Jason, Gabriela and Jade's full names in this piece to protect their privacy and safety.
Forbes
01-05-2025
- Business
- Forbes
This One Decision Is Costing America Up To $10 Billion A Year
As cannabis becomes a booming global industry, America is stuck on the sidelines. While countries like Canada, Portugal and Colombia ship products around the world, U.S. federal laws block companies from exporting — and according to new estimates, that delay could be costing up to $10 billion a year in lost trade, jobs and influence. Not long ago, I asked whether the U.S. was missing out on the global cannabis boom. The response was overwhelming. Investors, CEOs, policymakers; they all know it's happening. The question now is whether America can catch up before it's too late. This piece picks up where that conversation left off, zooming in on one missed opportunity that's too big to ignore: cannabis exports. According to an analysis from Matt Karnes at GreenWave Advisors, the U.S. could be missing out on up to $10 billion a year simply by sitting on the sidelines of global cannabis trade. Ten. Billion. Dollars. That's not just market share: that's jobs, tax revenue and influence, slipping away while other countries like Canada, Portugal and Colombia race ahead. And here's the kicker: cannabis isn't a niche market anymore. It's shaping up to be one of the world's fastest-growing regulated industries, much like alcohol, tobacco and pharma before it. The U.S. once led all three globally. Why should cannabis be any different? When Karnes crunched the numbers, he wasn't guessing. He started by looking at how much America already exports in other sectors: wine, beer, tobacco, pharmaceuticals. For cannabis, he took the middle ground. Assuming the U.S. market reaches $100 billion at maturity—a widely cited projection—Karnes estimates that even modest export participation could represent at least $10 billion a year. Yet today, that figure is closer to zero. Why? Federal prohibition. Without national legalization—or at minimum, export-friendly regulations—American cannabis can't legally leave the country. And while the U.S. dithers, the world moves on. Countries like Canada, Portugal and Colombia aren't waiting. They're building cannabis supply chains that look a lot like the early days of global wine, tobacco and pharma trade. Canada exported roughly CA$218 million (~$189 million at the time) worth of medical cannabis in the 2023–24 fiscal year, a 36% increase from the previous year. What's more, in the first half of 2024 alone, the country exported 67,475 kilograms of dried medical cannabis flower, nearly doubling the 34,115 kilograms exported during the same period in 2023. Portugal shipped 32,558 kilos of medical cannabis abroad in 2024—almost tripling its volume in a single year. Colombia's exports hit $10.7 million in 2024, according to Colombian tax authority data. And it's not just these three. Germany imports. Australia imports. Israel imports. South Africa, Lesotho, Morocco and Uganda are all scaling up cannabis exports with clear federal frameworks designed to chase global market share. Meanwhile, American growers, many sitting on some of the world's best cannabis genetics and production capacity, can't even ship products across state lines, let alone to Berlin, Tel Aviv or Sydney. According to Karnes, 'The potential of a meaningful competitive advantage is at stake—the U.S. has the expertise to dominate the global cannabis industry and if federal law remains status quo, we will be unable to maximize this opportunity.' If you think wine, coffee or tobacco are powerful cultural exports... imagine what California cannabis could have been—and still could be. But every year the U.S. delays, the window narrows. The U.S. isn't starting from scratch. It already has the talent, the infrastructure, the brands. California alone has spent more than three decades perfecting genetics, growing techniques and consumer culture that the rest of the world admires—and, let's be honest, wants to buy. If federal export barriers were lifted, the impact could be immediate. Graham Farrar, president of Glass House Brands, one of California's largest growers, put it plainly: 'If you were to ask 100 people around the world if they wanted cannabis from California or anywhere else, 99 of the 100 will pick California. And for good reason.' California isn't just a brand: it's an agricultural force. It dominates global exports in crops like citrus, wine and almonds not because it talks about quality, but because it delivers. Cannabis could easily follow that same path. Farrar explains: 'The California market, where cannabis has been legal for nearly 30 years, is the most educated and discerning market on the planet. Everything that makes California a powerhouse in agriculture applies to cannabis.' Beyond California, the U.S. could lead in genetics, technology, innovation and branding, fields where American companies already dominate sectors like biotech, and food and beverage. 'U.S. cannabis is the definition of American exceptionalism,' says Todd Harrison, founding partner at CB1 Capital and author of the Cannabis Confidential newsletter. 'But the longer it takes for the federal bureaucracy to unwind the war on drugs, the more ground we'll lose to proactive nations like Canada that have already forged international inroads and alliances.' And the stakes are only rising. 'The race is on,' Harrison adds. 'Given an even playing field—including access to U.S. banks and stock exchanges, and a normalized tax rate—the U.S. would presumably lead the evolution of the global marketplace.' And yet, he warns, 'onerous federal regulations continue to punish the pioneers and entrepreneurs that have historically made America great.' Missing out on $10 billion in potential exports is bad. But the real cost may be even bigger. In global cannabis, first movers don't just capture sales: they help write the rules. Countries like Canada, Portugal and Colombia aren't just exporting flower or oil. They're exporting GMP-certified processes, setting the bar for lab testing, documentation, traceability and pharma-grade compliance. They're building relationships with regulators, defining what 'quality' means in this industry. The U.S., by contrast, is absent from the negotiating table. Julian Wilches, co-founder of Clever Leaves and a key voice in Colombia's export sector, sees it clearly: 'The United States is late to the race for the global medical cannabis market.' While U.S. operators have focused on fragmented state-level systems, countries like Colombia 'designed a model oriented toward exports'—built from the ground up with EU-GMP standards and international compliance at its core. And those early efforts are paying off. In 2024, Colombian cannabis exports reached $10.7 million, according to tax authority DIAN. Clever Leaves, one of the few companies with EU-GMP–certified production in the region, exports to Germany, Australia and Brazil—markets most U.S. companies can't touch. 'The difference,' says Wilches, 'is understanding how regulators operate in other countries, what certifications are needed and how to build an international supply chain with pharmaceutical consistency.' That's not just an operational edge; it's a soft power advantage. If the U.S. wants a say in how cannabis is regulated, consumed and distributed around the world, it needs to show up with more than brands. It needs infrastructure, standards and legal pathways to participate. Until then, other nations will keep shaping the future. And America will keep watching from the bleachers. Countries like Colombia didn't stumble into the global market. They designed for it. As Wilches explains, 'From the beginning, Colombia created a regulatory framework that demands traceability, strict sanitary compliance and pharmaceutical-grade quality standards.' That export-first approach, he says, allowed Clever Leaves to become one of the few companies operating at scale under EU-GMP conditions. Meanwhile, the U.S. model has remained inward-facing. Operators have mastered the art of navigating 50 different state regulations, but that hasn't translated into global readiness. 'To compete in global trade,' Wilches adds, 'it's not enough to be efficient locally—you need to understand how foreign regulators work, what certifications are required and how to build a pharmaceutical-grade supply chain at international scale.' Even with recent conversations around rescheduling cannabis at the federal level, few in Washington are openly discussing exports. But they should be. Global trade isn't optional anymore; it's where the market is heading. And the longer the U.S. waits, the more space it cedes to those who moved first. It's not that the U.S. can't compete globally—it's that it's not allowed to. For American cannabis companies to participate in the global market, the first and most obvious hurdle is federal prohibition. As long as cannabis remains federally illegal, interstate commerce is blocked and exports are off the table. Karnes breaks it down: 'Removing barriers to interstate commerce enables the ability to export.' Without it, American companies are stuck playing small ball while the rest of the world opens up. That means the U.S. needs: And maybe most urgently: a tax and compliance system that makes global competition viable. As Karnes puts it, 'The uncertainty around tariffs and excise taxes makes it difficult to estimate potential gains. But even a modest federal tax could unlock 5% of sales in revenue.' It's not just policy—it's perception. As long as cannabis is treated differently from alcohol, tobacco or pharma, the U.S. will keep forfeiting ground. As Harrison has argued, the federal status quo continues to penalize the very innovators who built the U.S. cannabis industry in the first place. Until federal law changes, U.S. cannabis will remain a local affair in a global economy. Global cannabis is no longer a what-if: it's a what-now. Countries around the world are setting the rules, signing the trade deals and building the infrastructure to serve billions in future demand. The U.S., despite its legacy of innovation and cultural influence, isn't just late to the game; it hasn't even shown up. But it still could. With the right policy changes—interstate commerce, export licenses, regulatory alignment—the U.S. could unlock an entirely new layer of growth. Think Napa Valley, but for cannabis. Think Silicon Valley, but for cannabinoids. The raw material, the know-how, the demand—it's all there. What's missing is permission. As Karnes warned, the longer this drags on, the more opportunity we lose. And it's not theoretical—it's measurable. Ten billion dollars a year. That's what federal inaction could be costing us. Global cannabis trade is moving forward—with or without the U.S. To lead in this emerging market, America will need to shift from local debates to global action. Because while America argues over the finish line, the rest of the world is already in the race.
