A photographer’s view of ICE’s relentless courthouse arrests

When it happens, it’s so much quieter, so much quicker than you expect.

Each weekday immigrants make their way through the halls of 26 Federal Plaza in Manhattan, uneasy and confused, searching for the right courtroom for their asylum hearing. Most carry a handful of documents and dress in their sharpest outfits. They turn a corner and stop cold as they stumble into a team of black-masked agents huddled against the walls.

The agents stand, shoulders slumped, eyes cast at phones, hands tucked into plate carriers affixed with velcro patches advertising a constellation of three letter agencies—ICE, CBP, ATF, DSS, FBI, HSI—and the US Border Patrol. One is struck by their casual sloppiness and lack of proper uniforms. Take away the service weapons and body armor, and they could be delivering pizzas.