U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement has hired a subsidiary of for-profit prison company GEO Group to aid in hunting down immigrants at their homes and places of work, according to records reviewed by The Intercept.

ICE has secured a deal with surveillance firm BI Incorporated as part of a new program, first reported in October by The Intercept, to use private bounty hunters to determine the locations of immigrants in exchange for monetary bonuses.

BI, which was acquired by the GEO Group in 2011, is one of several firms hired by ICE to provide “skip tracing” services, in which its teams of corporate investigators will use surveillance to track immigrants across the country to their homes and places of work so federal agents can easily swoop in and make arrests.

Records show ICE has already paid BI $1.6 million, with the potential for the contract to grow to as much as $121 million by the time it concludes in 2027.

ICE’s push to privatize its hunt for immigrants has drawn the scrutiny of Rep. Raja Krishnamoorthi, D-Ill., who warned it “invites the very abuses, secrecy, and corruption our founders sought to prevent.”

Neither BI Incorporated nor GEO Group immediately responded to a request for comment.

The deal illustrates a strategy of vertical integration within GEO Group, which has found a growing line of business operating for-profit immigration detention centers under the second Trump administration. In this case, the corporation stands to be paid by the federal government to both find immigrants and then to imprison them.

Shares of GEO Group, which donated to both Trump’s reelection campaign and his inaugural fund, spiked following his 2024 victory. Trump’s return to office has proven fortuitous for GEO Group: The president’s “Big Beautiful Bill” earmarked $45 billion for jailing immigrants. “This is a unique moment in our company’s history,” GEO Group CEO J. David Donahue told investors in May, “and we believe we are well-positioned to meet this unprecedented opportunity.”

GEO Group has faced decades of criticism over alleged mismanagement of its facilities and claims of rampant abuse of inmates. In August, The Intercept reported the suicide of a Chinese immigrant held at a GEO Group-operated prison in Pennsylvania. The American Civil Liberties Union filed a federal complaint over the facility in July, criticizing “horrific conditions” at the prison, including repeated instances of medical neglect.

In 2023, GEO Group was hit by a class-action lawsuit alleging the “months-long poisoning” from a chemical disinfectant of more than 1,300 inmates at a California immigration detention center. In May, Tufts University student Rümeysa Öztürk, jailed for her criticism of the Israeli genocide in Gaza, alleged her GEO Group-managed jail delayed treatment while she experienced an asthma attack.

The ICE contract record does not say whether BI would provide on-the-ground bounty hunting services, software-based investigative services, or a combination of both. ICE has previously told potential bounty hunting contractors, “It is dependent upon the vendor to complete the work required by contract,” but “Should a vendor choose to subcontract, that is at their discretion,” according to procurement correspondence reviewed by The Intercept.

BI has a long history in immigrant surveillance, having received hundreds of millions of dollars from the government to date through past contracts for ankle monitor-based tracking. The company specializes in remote surveillance and person-monitoring services, including sales of GPS bracelets and other tracking devices. “Location tracking enables individuals to work and live in the community while being monitored closely for curfews, movement, and more,” according to the company’s website. “BI offers ankle bracelet, wrist-worn, and mobile tracking solutions to meet the needs of varying risk levels.”

BI also touts its suite of software products, including case management applications for monitoring the movements of immigrants and other targets, as well as tools that allow agencies to chart a target’s “geographic and spatial location data” across Google Maps. It is unknown if the company has access to commercial mobile device locational data, or relies solely on body-mounted trackers.

But with many years of detailed GPS data pertaining to the every movement of hundreds of thousands of immigrants, BI and GEO Group hold a trove of locational information that would be of obvious value to the bounty hunting initiative.

In a November contracting document pertaining to the skip tracing effort, ICE told potential bounty hunting vendors they are “expected to provide their own internal skip tracing tools,” providing contractors with a great deal of latitude to employ surveillance products and techniques of their choosing. The document further noted that private ICE bounty hunters will not be provided credentials to identify them as agents of the government.

404 Media reported Thursday that ICE had also contracted with AI Solutions 87, “a company that makes ‘AI agents’ to rapidly track down targets.”

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On the same day the state of Georgia issued a death warrant for Stacey Ian Humphreys, setting his execution for December 17, Gov. Brian Kemp announced his latest appointment to the Board of Pardons and Parole, the five-member body that would ultimately decide whether Humphreys would live or die.

The new member was Kim McCoy, previously a victims’ advocate at the Cobb County District Attorney’s Office. As the head of the Victim Witness Unit for 25 years, she offered dedicated support to victims’ family members “in capital cases and select high-profile cases,” according to her official bio.

One of those cases was Humphreys’s.

Humphreys was convicted and sentenced to death in 2007 for the notorious double murder of 21-year-old Lori Brown and 33-year-old Cyndi Williams. The two women were killed northwest of Atlanta; the shocking crime generated so much pretrial publicity that Humphreys’s trial was moved from Cobb County to Glynn County, nearly 300 miles away.

McCoy provided logistical and moral support to the victims’ families throughout the monthlong trial. Members of Humphreys’s defense team would later recall in affidavits that McCoy was extremely protective of them, blocking the legal team’s efforts to introduce themselves. “She was a pitbull,” one said.

The families were grateful for McCoy’s support. In a profile published in McCoy’s alma mater magazine the year after the trial, they praised her care and compassion. “Sometimes you see people who are tailor-made for a specific job,” one said. McCoy was that person.

“It is hard to imagine a greater conflict of interest in a clemency case.”

But her appointment to the pardon board on December 1 was another matter. Where Humphreys’s case was concerned, McCoy had a glaring conflict of interest. Although parole boards are often stacked with former prosecutors and law enforcement officials, making many clemency decisions little more than a rubber stamp, McCoy was a member of the very team that sent Humphreys to death row — one with an especially deep connection to his victims. As the lawyers would later write in a court filing, “it is hard to imagine a greater conflict of interest in a clemency case.”

McCoy was not the only board member with a connection to Humphreys’s case. Vice Chair Wayne Bennett was the Glynn County sheriff at the time of the trial, tasked with overseeing security and transportation for the sequestered jury — as well as Humphreys himself. To Humphreys’s attorneys, Bennett’s proximity to the victims, jurors, and defendant throughout the trial was too close for comfort. Under the board’s ethics rules, members are obligated to avoid even the appearance of bias. It was obvious to the lawyers that both McCoy and Bennett should recuse themselves from the clemency hearing. Yet there was no sign they planned to to so.

On December 4, Assistant Federal Defender Nathan Potek emailed the board’s legal counsel, La’Quanda Smith. “It has come to our attention that two of the current Board members, Mr. Bennett and Ms. McCoy, have conflicts in Mr Humphreys’ case arising from their respective roles at his trial,” he wrote. “Could you please let me know how the Board plans to address this issue and ensure that Mr. Humphreys has five conflict-free Board members to consider his clemency application?”

Smith wrote back five days later. “Mr. Bennett and Ms. McCoy were duly appointed to the Board by Governor Kemp,” she said. “As it is currently constituted, this Board plans to give due consideration to any clemency request made by Mr. Humphreys.”

In other words, the board planned to move forward with McCoy and Bennett’s participation.

Georgia’s pardon and parole board is uniquely powerful. While many death penalty states leave it to the governor to be the last word on clemency, in Georgia, the board acts alone. It also has the power to grant stays of execution, something ordinarily done by the courts. And while some states open clemency hearings to the public, Georgia’s board members make decisions behind closed doors, with their votes classified as “confidential state secrets.”

With the execution less than a week away, Humphreys’s legal team filed an emergency motion in Fulton County Superior Court. It asked the court to direct McCoy and Bennett to recuse themselves and to order the board to grant a 90-day stay to allow time for two replacements. They also asked the court to block the Department of Corrections from executing their client until his clemency appeal had been considered by “a five member board free from conflict.” If a judge did not intervene, they wrote, “Mr. Humphreys’s final request for mercy — his last chance to have his case heard — will be ruled upon by two people predisposed to vote against him.”

A judge scheduled a hearing in Atlanta for December 15, the eve of Humphreys’s clemency hearing. That morning, the Georgia Attorney General’s Office filed a response to the emergency motion. McCoy would “abstain” from voting, it said. But it denied that Bennett should do the same. “The allegations concerning him do not come close to constituting a conflict of interest,” the state lawyers wrote.

The hearing was still an hour away when lawyers on both sides learned that the board had temporarily suspended the execution. Its decision was delivered via paper copy, complete with a gold seal. The board did not give a reason for its decision. Nor did anyone — including the judge — know how long the stay of execution would remain in place. “I don’t have any information as to how long the suspension will last,” the board’s legal counsel told the judge. In Georgia, execution warrants are valid for a week. Humphreys could be killed anytime between noon on December 17 and noon on Christmas Eve.

This was not the first time Humphreys’s case had raised concerns about bias.

His death sentence was rooted in an ugly confrontation between jurors at his trial. As members of the jury later told Humphreys’s legal team, jurors had initially decided to vote to impose a sentence of life without parole. But one woman instead voted for death, leaving the jury split 11 to 1. The holdout juror “snapped,” as one person put it, screaming and throwing photos of the victims’ bodies at the others. When the forewoman notified the court that the jury was unable to reach a unanimous decision, the judge instructed them to keep deliberating.

According to the forewoman, she and the other jurors got the mistaken impression that they had to unanimously vote on a sentence or Humphreys would walk free. They changed their votes to death. “I cried the entire time,” she said.

The holdout juror had also revealed during the trial deliberations that she’d been a victim of violent crime. A man had broken into her apartment and attacked her — a fact that she withheld during jury selection. While she said during voir dire that she escaped before the man entered, she told fellow jurors that the intruder actually attacked her in her bed. The juror’s actions amounted to “extreme misconduct,” Justice Sonia Sotomayor wrote after the U.S. Supreme Court refused to consider Humphreys’s case. In a dissent joined by Justices Elena Kagan and Ketanji Brown Jackson, Sotomayor wrote that the juror “appears to have singlehandedly changed the verdict from life without parole to death.”

In their motion, Humphreys’s lawyers explained that they planned to discuss the juror misconduct at the clemency hearing. The clash between jurors had escalated to the point where it became violent: One juror punched a wall. This loss of control implicated Bennett, the former sheriff, who had been in charge of security — and whose experience would inevitably color his view of this evidence. At the hearing in Atlanta, where he testified via Zoom, Bennett said he’d only just learned about the episode. “The trial is more important for us to control,” he said. His participation in the trial “was minimal at best.”

McCoy also testified via Zoom. She said that she’d decided to abstain the night before. But it was not exactly clear what this meant. The state’s brief suggested that McCoy would not participate in the hearing apart from voting to abstain. But Smith, the board’s lawyer, said that McCoy would also be able to ask questions — an opportunity to influence the clemency discussion. Neither option fulfilled her ethical and legal obligations, Jessica Cino, a lawyer with the firm Krevolin & Horst who is representing Humphreys, told the judge. “Abstention does not fix the problem.”

In fact, it put Humphreys at a distinct disadvantage, since he needed three votes for clemency to avoid execution. “A vote to abstain is effectively the same exact thing as a vote to deny, from Mr. Humphreys’s perspective, correct?” Cino’s colleague asked Smith when she took the stand. “Correct,” she replied.

Fulton County Judge Robert McBurney clearly grasped the problem with McCoy, whose conflicts “kind of hit you in the face,” as he put it. But the solution to the larger problem was less obvious. While the attorney general’s office argued that the board did not necessarily need five members to preside over a clemency hearing, Georgia law said otherwise. And Smith testified that she’d never seen such a hearing proceed with fewer than five board members.

It was unclear by the end of the hearing how or when McBurney would rule. Humphreys’s attorneys urged him to impose a temporary restraining order to prevent the board from moving forward with a rescheduled clemency hearing and execution date. After all, the board “could unsuspend [the execution] the minute we walk out of this courtroom,” one lawyer said. This would immediately restart the clock.

Although Smith had said that the board “would provide at least 24 hours’ notice” before a new clemency hearing, this was not reassuring. Humphreys’s legal team, who only learned of the warrant on December 1, had already scrambled to get witnesses organized in time for the original clemency hearing. “It is right before Christmas which has made things incredibly difficult,” one lawyer said.

In a statement to The Intercept, Humphreys’s attorneys said that the situation remains tenuous. “While we are grateful that the Parole Board has decided to press pause,” they wrote, the suspension remains temporary. And it does not resolve “the serious ethical and legal deficiencies we raised in court.”

Meanwhile, the board’s director of communications replied to an email from The Intercept. “The board is waiting on a decision by the court,” he wrote. Asked if it was still possible for the execution to happen before Christmas Eve, he did not answer.

The post Secretive Georgia Clemency Board Suspends Execution After Its Conflicts of Interest Are Exposed appeared first on The Intercept.

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An FBI investigation into an alleged terror plot in Southern California bears the familiar hallmarks of the bureau’s long-running use of informants and undercover agents to advance plots that might not otherwise have materialized, court documents show.

News of the plot surfaced Monday morning in a Fox News report that ran ahead of court filings or official statements. Within minutes, FBI officials amplified the story on social media.

“PROTECT THE HOMELAND and CRUSH VIOLENT CRIME,” wrote FBI Deputy Director Dan Bongino, a former podcaster. “These words are not slogans, they’re the investigative pillars of this FBI.”

The informant and the undercover agent were involved in nearly every stage of the case.

What followed, however, painted a more complicated picture.

The limited details available suggest an investigation that leaned heavily on a paid informant and at least one undercover FBI agent, according to an affidavit filed in federal court. The informant and the undercover agent were involved in nearly every stage of the case, including discussions of operational security and transporting members of the group to the site in the Mojave Desert where federal agents ultimately made the arrests.

The informant, who has worked other cases on the FBI’s payroll since 2021, had been in contact with the group known as the Turtle Island Liberation Front since at least late November, just two months after President Donald Trump designated “antifa” a domestic terrorism organization.

On the morning of December 15, FBI Director Kash Patel announced the arrests, calling the plot “a credible, imminent terrorist threat.”

Yet the case had the familiar markings of FBI terrorism stings that stretch back more than two decades — hundreds of cases that have disproportionately targeted left-wing activists and Muslims, and, less often, right-wing actors.

“Bring Cases, Get Paid”

Since the September 11 attacks, the FBI has relied on informants to identify and build terrorism cases. The structure has created perverse incentives for potential informants. Their cooperation can get them out of criminal cases of their own and lead to handsome monetary compensation. The FBI’s call is simple: Bring cases, get paid.

Rick Smith, a security consultant and former FBI agent, said confidential sources are essential to investigative police work, but cautioned that they come with inherent baggage.

“They’re sources, they’re not ordinary citizens,” Smith said. “They have either been compromised in some way, or they’re going to be paid. Either way, they’ve got some sort of skin in the game. They’re getting something out of it.”

In the years after 2001 attacks, the FBI created a market for cases involving left-wing activists and Muslims. After the January 6 Capitol riot, the bureau made clear to informants that right-wing extremism was a priority. Now, under the second Trump administration, the federal government’s focus is again turning to perceived left-wing extremism.

In September, days after the terror designation of antifa, Trump outlined his administration’s war on the left in a memo titled National Security Presidential Memorandum 7, or NSPM-7, which called for the National Joint Terrorism Task Force to coordinate with local offices to investigate alleged federal crimes by political radicals. The head of the federal prosecutor’s office in Los Angeles said on Monday that the Turtle Island Liberation Front arrests stemmed from Trump’s executive order.

Key questions in the Turtle Island Liberation Front case, however, remain unanswered. It is still unclear how the FBI first identified the group or how long the informant had been embedded before the bomb plot emerged — a period defense attorneys say is central to any serious examination of entrapment, whereby defendants are coerced into crimes they would not otherwise commit, a frequent criticism of stings involving paid informants and undercover agents.

“The question that immediately popped into my mind was that: There’s a reference to a confidential human source, but there’s no indication of how that source came to be,” said Brad Crowder, an activist and union organizer who was convicted in a case of alleged violent protest plans that involved a confidential informant. “It’s not totally out of the realm of possibilities that this idea was planted or floated by whoever this confidential human source might be.”

Turtle Island Case

Despite comments from Attorney General Pam Bondi, Patel, and others characterizing the Turtle Island Liberation Front as a coherent group and a Signal chat called “Black Lotus” as an ultra-radical subset, there’s little evidence that any group by that name exists beyond a small digital footprint and a handful of attempts at organizing community events, including a self-defense workshop and a punk rock benefit show planned for February.

The Instagram page for the Turtle Island Liberation Front cited in the complaint had just over 1,000 followers as of Tuesday morning — after it was widely publicized — and its first post came in late July. The YouTube channel bearing the group’s name, which had just 18 subscribers as of Tuesday morning, was registered on July 17 and contains a single video posted on September 16.

Online, the group styled itself as radical and righteous. Its activists spoke in the language of solidarity with Palestinians and Indigenous people, railing against U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement and American power. On Instagram, they posted slogans and absolutes:

“Become a revolutionary.”

“America has always been the brutal evil monster that some of you don’t want to face.”

“Resistance is the deepest form of love.”

The informant did not, however, meet with the group on November 26 for its slogans.

According to the affidavit, the informant met up with Audrey Illeene Carroll, who went by the nickname Asiginaak. At the meeting, Carroll handed over eight pages covered with handwriting in blue ink. The document was titled “Operation Midnight Sun,” and laid out a plan to detonate backpack bombs at five separate locations on New Year’s Eve, when fireworks would mask the sound of explosions. The plan was unfinished. Beneath the list of targets were blank lines, marked: “add more if enough comrades.” (Carroll’s attorney did not immediately respond to a request for comment.)

Over the following weeks, the plot advanced, according to court filings. A Signal group was created for, in the participants’ words, “everything radical,” including the bomb plan itself. On December 7, the supposed bomb plot expanded to include an undercover FBI agent. At that meeting, Carroll distributed pages describing how to build the bombs. She said she already had 13 PVC pipes cut to size and had ordered two five-pound bags of potassium nitrate from Amazon, believing naively that a burner account she set up was keeping her anonymous. Delivery was scheduled for December 11.

The FBI allowed the plan to progress, with both an informant and an undercover agent actively participating.

The FBI had visibility into nearly every part of the supply chain: chemicals ordered online and pistol primers purchased at a retail store. Agents could have intervened at any stage. They didn’t. Instead, the bureau allowed the plan to continue, with both an informant and an undercover agent actively participating in the conspiracy.

On December 12, the group drove into the desert with an aim of testing the bombs. They took two vehicles: the informant in one, the undercover agent in the other. Riding with the undercover agent was Zachary Aaron Page, who went by the nickname AK. He suggested using cigarettes as a delayed fuse. In the other car, Carroll told another member that the desert exercise was a dry run for the New Year’s Eve attack.

“What we’re doing will be considered a terrorist act,” she said, according to the affidavit.

At the site, they pitched tents and set up tables. They laid out PVC pipes, charcoal, sulfur, gasoline, string, cloth, and protective gear. As they began assembling the devices, the FBI moved in. Overhead, an FBI surveillance plane recorded the scene as agents took into custody four alleged members of the Turtle Island Liberation Front including Carroll and Page, along with Tina Lai and Dante Gaffield. (An attorney for Page declined to comment, and lawyers for Gaffield and Lai did not immediately respond.)

“Nonpartisan Incentive Structure”

Terrorism prosecutions built around confidential informants have long drawn criticism, particularly over the risk of entrapment.

For more than a decade, legal scholars have argued that while these cases often resemble classic government inducement, they rarely meet the legal standard for entrapment. Courts define predisposition so broadly that ideological sympathy or recorded rhetoric is treated as evidence of a preexisting willingness to commit violence — a framework that effectively shields government-manufactured plots from meaningful judicial scrutiny.

That concern surfaced starkly in a previous sting operation involving the so-called Newburgh Four, in which an aggressive and prolific FBI informant steered four poor Black men into a scheme to bomb synagogues and attack an Air Force base. Years later, a federal judge granted the men compassionate release, describing the case as an “FBI-orchestrated conspiracy.”

Because informants can be so instrumental in building cases, their use can be leveraged by authorities to focus resources on investigations with more political overtones.

At times, the right has criticized the political nature of some cases. Among them was the case in which the FBI encouraged a plot to kidnap Michigan Gov. Gretchen Whitmer — a sting that the FBI’s Patel and Bongino harshly criticized back when they spent their days attached to the microphones of right-wing podcasts.

“There is a nonpartisan incentive structure that has become overly reliant on these kinds of confidential human sources,” said Crowder.

Crowder knows better than most. In 2008, he and fellow activist David McKay were arrested and charged with plotting to use Molotov cocktails at the Republican National Convention in Saint Paul, Minnesota. Despite deciding not to follow through with the plan, both ultimately pleaded guilty, with Crowder sentenced to two years in prison and McKay to four.

Part of the playbook, Crowder said, is for an informant to exploit their targets’ “righteous anger.”

The case against Crowder and McKay case hinged on the work of an FBI informant, Brandon Darby, who had been a prominent activist in anarchist circles in Texas and Louisiana. Crowder and McKay looked up to Darby, viewing him as a mentor and someone they hoped to impress or convince of their radical bona fides. In interviews over the years, they’ve alleged that Darby — who now works at Breitbart — was instrumental to their decision to cross the line from protest to discussing something more violent.

Part of the playbook, Crowder said, is for an informant to exploit their targets’ “righteous anger” — in the case of the Turtle Bay Liberation Front, rights violations in Palestine and ICE actions in Los Angeles. From there, authorities take advantage of the allege plotters’ political immaturity, walking hand in hand with them as they cross the line from legal dissent into illegal conspiracy.

The informant gets paid, the FBI gets a good headline that justifies their anti-terrorism budget, and the defendants are left to face the consequences, often without ever posing a real threat to public safety, Crowder said.

“On both sides you have a sort of momentum that develops,” Crowder said. “This ICE repression is crazy, and that feeds into a sort of hopelessness that drives a sort of nihilistic response that you see from people who have immature politics. And then that heartfelt but immature and irresponsible response plays into the incentive structure of the FBI.”

The post Longtime Paid FBI Informant Was Instrumental in Terror Case Against “Turtle Island Liberation Front” appeared first on The Intercept.

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A commission of top United Nations human rights watchdogs sent a series of blistering letters to the heads of five U.S. universities raising sharp concerns over the treatment of pro-Palestine students, The Intercept has learned.

The letters, which were sent on October 14 to the presidents and provosts of Columbia, Cornell, Georgetown, Minnesota State, and Tufts universities, called out school officials and U.S. law enforcement agencies for cracking down on student protesters and subsequently using immigration authorities to single out foreign students for detention and deportation.

“We are highly concerned over reports that students were arrested, suspended, and expelled, and lost their university accommodation, campus access, and their immigration status merely because of assembling peacefully to express their solidarity with victims of the conflict in Gaza,” wrote the group of U.N. special rapporteurs, independent experts who monitor human rights violations. “We fear that such pressure and public attacks on scholars and institutions can result in repression of free expression and in self-censorship, thus damaging academic freedom and the autonomy of universities.”

The letters suggest the international body has taken notice of domestic protest repression on U.S. campuses. Since President Donald Trump returned to office, his administration has weaponized immigration authorities against international students and investigations over alleged antisemitism at universities across the country — ratcheting up a crackdown on student protests for Palestine that began under former President Joe Biden.

The letter to Columbia highlighted the arrest and detention of Mahmoud Khalil, Mohsen Mahdawi, and Leqaa Kordia, as well as the attempted arrest of Yunseo Chung. (Columbia did not immediately respond to a request for comment.)

Khalil and Mahdawi both spent months in detention earlier this year. Kordia, a Palestinian student who was arrested on March 8, was still in U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement custody as recently as December 8, according to a report by Drop Site News.

“It has been reported that the conditions of Ms. Kordia’s detention are particularly severe. Due to overcrowding, she sleeps on the floor where cockroaches and other bugs abound, and many showers and sinks do not work,” the authors wrote. “She is also not given materials her faith requires to have to pray, and she is not allowed to wear a hijab in the presence of men as her religion requires.”

The authors of the letter include Mary Lawlor, the special rapporteur on the situation of human rights defenders; Farida Shaheed, the special rapporteur on the right to education; Irene Khan, the special rapporteur on the promotion and protection of the right to freedom of opinion and expression; Gina Romero, the special rapporteur on the rights to freedom of peaceful assembly and of association; and Gehad Madi, the special rapporteur on the human rights of migrants. Representatives of the U.N. rapporteurs who drafted the letters did not immediately respond to The Intercept’s requests for comment.

The U.N. letter also highlighted the cases of Rümeysa Öztürk, a Turkish student at Tufts who was snatched by masked ICE agents on the streets of Somerville, Massachusetts, on March 25; Badar Khan Suri, the Indian-born researcher at Georgetown arrested on March 17; Momodou Taal, a Cornell grad student with dual citizenship from the United Kingdom and Gambia who was ordered to turn himself in to ICE agents on March 22; and Mohammed Hoque, a Minnesota State student arrested at his home on March 28. (Cornell, Minnesota State, and Tufts did not immediately respond to requests for comment.)

In the letter, the authors singled out Columbia for bowing to pressure from the Trump administration, which they said set a standard that chilled speech nationwide.

“The restrictive measures at Columbia University reflect nationwide structural changes at universities to suppress Palestine solidarity movements,” the authors wrote.

In each letter, the authors asked the universities to provide information on the allegations of mistreatment, any measures taken by the schools to protect the rights of its students and scholars, and details on how the schools plan to safeguard the rights to freedom of expression and assembly.

“Students report self-censoring political expression, and particularly international students are withdrawing from activism due to deportation fears,” the authors wrote. “Campus organizing has diminished significantly, with activists reporting less attendance from international students who had to quit their activism because of the potential risk of repercussions. This intimidating effect extends beyond issues concerning Israel and Palestine, with students reporting reluctance to engage in any political activism.”

The post U.N. Human Rights Watchdogs Blast Columbia for Using Immigration Status to Suppress Students’ Pro-Palestine Speech appeared first on The Intercept.

This post was originally published on The Intercept.

A commission of top United Nations human rights watchdogs sent a series of blistering letters to the heads of five U.S. universities raising sharp concerns over the treatment of pro-Palestine students, The Intercept has learned.

The letters, which were sent on October 14 to the presidents and provosts of Columbia, Cornell, Georgetown, Minnesota State, and Tufts universities, called out school officials and U.S. law enforcement agencies for cracking down on student protesters and subsequently using immigration authorities to single out foreign students for detention and deportation.

“We are highly concerned over reports that students were arrested, suspended, and expelled, and lost their university accommodation, campus access, and their immigration status merely because of assembling peacefully to express their solidarity with victims of the conflict in Gaza,” wrote the group of U.N. special rapporteurs, independent experts who monitor human rights violations. “We fear that such pressure and public attacks on scholars and institutions can result in repression of free expression and in self-censorship, thus damaging academic freedom and the autonomy of universities.”

The letters suggest the international body has taken notice of domestic protest repression on U.S. campuses. Since President Donald Trump returned to office, his administration has weaponized immigration authorities against international students and investigations over alleged antisemitism at universities across the country — ratcheting up a crackdown on student protests for Palestine that began under former President Joe Biden.

The letter to Columbia highlighted the arrest and detention of Mahmoud Khalil, Mohsen Mahdawi, and Leqaa Kordia, as well as the attempted arrest of Yunseo Chung. (Columbia did not immediately respond to a request for comment.)

Khalil and Mahdawi both spent months in detention earlier this year. Kordia, a Palestinian student who was arrested on March 8, was still in U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement custody as recently as December 8, according to a report by Drop Site News.

“It has been reported that the conditions of Ms. Kordia’s detention are particularly severe. Due to overcrowding, she sleeps on the floor where cockroaches and other bugs abound, and many showers and sinks do not work,” the authors wrote. “She is also not given materials her faith requires to have to pray, and she is not allowed to wear a hijab in the presence of men as her religion requires.”

The authors of the letter include Mary Lawlor, the special rapporteur on the situation of human rights defenders; Farida Shaheed, the special rapporteur on the right to education; Irene Khan, the special rapporteur on the promotion and protection of the right to freedom of opinion and expression; Gina Romero, the special rapporteur on the rights to freedom of peaceful assembly and of association; and Gehad Madi, the special rapporteur on the human rights of migrants. Representatives of the U.N. rapporteurs who drafted the letters did not immediately respond to The Intercept’s requests for comment.

The U.N. letter also highlighted the cases of Rümeysa Öztürk, a Turkish student at Tufts who was snatched by masked ICE agents on the streets of Somerville, Massachusetts, on March 25; Badar Khan Suri, the Indian-born researcher at Georgetown arrested on March 17; Momodou Taal, a Cornell grad student with dual citizenship from the United Kingdom and Gambia who was ordered to turn himself in to ICE agents on March 22; and Mohammed Hoque, a Minnesota State student arrested at his home on March 28. (Cornell, Minnesota State, and Tufts did not immediately respond to requests for comment.)

In the letter, the authors singled out Columbia for bowing to pressure from the Trump administration, which they said set a standard that chilled speech nationwide.

“The restrictive measures at Columbia University reflect nationwide structural changes at universities to suppress Palestine solidarity movements,” the authors wrote.

In each letter, the authors asked the universities to provide information on the allegations of mistreatment, any measures taken by the schools to protect the rights of its students and scholars, and details on how the schools plan to safeguard the rights to freedom of expression and assembly.

“Students report self-censoring political expression, and particularly international students are withdrawing from activism due to deportation fears,” the authors wrote. “Campus organizing has diminished significantly, with activists reporting less attendance from international students who had to quit their activism because of the potential risk of repercussions. This intimidating effect extends beyond issues concerning Israel and Palestine, with students reporting reluctance to engage in any political activism.”

The post UN Experts Blast U.S. Universities for Human Rights Violations Against Gaza Protesters appeared first on The Intercept.

This post was originally published on The Intercept.

A commission of top United Nations human rights watchdogs sent a series of blistering letters to the heads of five U.S. universities raising sharp concerns over the treatment of pro-Palestine students, The Intercept has learned.

The letters, which were sent on October 14 to the presidents and provosts of Columbia, Cornell, Georgetown, Minnesota State, and Tufts universities, called out school officials and U.S. law enforcement agencies for cracking down on student protesters and subsequently using immigration authorities to single out foreign students for detention and deportation.

“We are highly concerned over reports that students were arrested, suspended, and expelled, and lost their university accommodation, campus access, and their immigration status merely because of assembling peacefully to express their solidarity with victims of the conflict in Gaza,” wrote the group of U.N. special rapporteurs, independent experts who monitor human rights violations. “We fear that such pressure and public attacks on scholars and institutions can result in repression of free expression and in self-censorship, thus damaging academic freedom and the autonomy of universities.”

The letters suggest the international body has taken notice of domestic protest repression on U.S. campuses. Since President Donald Trump returned to office, his administration has weaponized immigration authorities against international students and investigations over alleged antisemitism at universities across the country — ratcheting up a crackdown on student protests for Palestine that began under former President Joe Biden.

The letter to Columbia highlighted the arrest and detention of Mahmoud Khalil, Mohsen Mahdawi, and Leqaa Kordia, as well as the attempted arrest of Yunseo Chung. (Columbia did not immediately respond to a request for comment.)

Khalil and Mahdawi both spent months in detention earlier this year. Kordia, a Palestinian student who was arrested on March 8, was still in U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement custody as recently as December 8, according to a report by Drop Site News.

“It has been reported that the conditions of Ms. Kordia’s detention are particularly severe. Due to overcrowding, she sleeps on the floor where cockroaches and other bugs abound, and many showers and sinks do not work,” the authors wrote. “She is also not given materials her faith requires to have to pray, and she is not allowed to wear a hijab in the presence of men as her religion requires.”

The authors of the letter include Mary Lawlor, the special rapporteur on the situation of human rights defenders; Farida Shaheed, the special rapporteur on the right to education; Irene Khan, the special rapporteur on the promotion and protection of the right to freedom of opinion and expression; Gina Romero, the special rapporteur on the rights to freedom of peaceful assembly and of association; and Gehad Madi, the special rapporteur on the human rights of migrants. Representatives of the U.N. rapporteurs who drafted the letters did not immediately respond to The Intercept’s requests for comment.

The U.N. letter also highlighted the cases of Rümeysa Öztürk, a Turkish student at Tufts who was snatched by masked ICE agents on the streets of Somerville, Massachusetts, on March 25; Badar Khan Suri, the Indian-born researcher at Georgetown arrested on March 17; Momodou Taal, a Cornell grad student with dual citizenship from the United Kingdom and Gambia who was ordered to turn himself in to ICE agents on March 22; and Mohammed Hoque, a Minnesota State student arrested at his home on March 28. (Cornell, Minnesota State, and Tufts did not immediately respond to requests for comment.)

In the letter, the authors singled out Columbia for bowing to pressure from the Trump administration, which they said set a standard that chilled speech nationwide.

“The restrictive measures at Columbia University reflect nationwide structural changes at universities to suppress Palestine solidarity movements,” the authors wrote.

In each letter, the authors asked the universities to provide information on the allegations of mistreatment, any measures taken by the schools to protect the rights of its students and scholars, and details on how the schools plan to safeguard the rights to freedom of expression and assembly.

“Students report self-censoring political expression, and particularly international students are withdrawing from activism due to deportation fears,” the authors wrote. “Campus organizing has diminished significantly, with activists reporting less attendance from international students who had to quit their activism because of the potential risk of repercussions. This intimidating effect extends beyond issues concerning Israel and Palestine, with students reporting reluctance to engage in any political activism.”

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Public support for capital punishment continued a decadeslong decline in 2025, dropping to the lowest level recorded in 50 years.

And yet executions carried out by governmental authorities are expected to reach their highest level in 15 years — nearly doubling over last year’s numbers.

Forty-six people were executed in 2025, according to an annual report released on Monday by the Death Penalty Information Center, which provides comprehensive data on each year’s execution trends. Two more executions — one in Florida and one in Georgia — are scheduled for later this week.

The nearly 50 people who will be executed this year is a steep increase from the 25 people killed by capital punishment in 2024.

“There is a huge disconnect between what the public wants and what elected officials are doing.”

“There is a huge disconnect between what the public wants and what elected officials are doing,” Robin Maher, the executive director of the Death Penalty Information Center, told The Intercept, noting that public polling has found just 52 percent of the public supports executions and opposition to the practice is at the highest level since 1966.

The surge was driven by Florida, which is poised to conduct 19 executions, accounting for 40 percent of the nation’s death sentences in 2025. Only Texas has ever killed as many people on death row in a single year.

“It very much feels political,” said Maria DeLiberato, legal and policy director at the Floridians for Alternatives to the Death Penalty. “It seems the current Florida administration has really been in lockstep with the Trump administration, and this idea of appearing to be tough on crime.”

In response to an inquiry, Alex Lanfranconi, a spokesperson for far-right Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis, said, “My advice to those who are seeking to avoid the death penalty in Florida would be to not murder people.”

Alabama, South Carolina, and Texas each had five executions, meaning just four states accounted for nearly three-quarters of the executions carried out over the past calendar year.

Even as the number of executions surged, the number of new death sentences handed out at trial declined.

Of the more than 50 capital trials that reached the sentencing phase in 2025, just 22 resulted in a death sentence. Many of the new death sentences came from cases in Florida and Alabama, where a non-unanimous jury can impose capital punishment.

New Pro-Death Penalty Laws

The death penalty is legalized in 27 states, though governors in four of them have paused capital punishment.

Despite steadily growing public disapproval of the practice, elected officials in states that conduct executions have aggressively introduced legislation that would enable them to more easily carry out death sentences. In recent years, states carrying out capital punishment have passed bills to create strict secrecy around executions, expand crimes eligible for the death penalty crimes, and add new methods of killing prisoners.

In 2025, the trend continued. Legislators in 11 states and the U.S. Congress introduced bills to expand the use of capital punishment, according to the Death Penalty Information Center’s tally.

Arkansas, Idaho, and Oklahoma enacted legislation to allow the death penalty for people convicted of non-lethal sex crimes, even though the Supreme Court has banned this punishment in such cases.

Multiple state governments added new execution protocols, while legislators in other states introduced bills to expand the death penalty in various ways. Florida passed a vague bill authorizing “a method not deemed unconstitutional,” and an Idaho bill made death by firing squad the state’s primary death sentence method. Arkansas approved legislation to use nitrogen in executions, joining Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana, which conducted its first gas execution this year.

While these states sought to expand their approved uses and methods of capital punishment, other jurisdictions generated a slew of constitutional concerns as executions appeared to result in prolonged suffering or deviated from outlined protocols.

In Tennessee, executions resumed after a five-year hiatus and a review that found the state had improperly tested execution drugs and failed to follow its own procedures. Byron Black, the second man killed under a subsequently enacted protocol, reportedly groaned and cried out during his execution; an autopsy found he had developed pulmonary edema, a form of lung damage commonly found in people who are executed by lethal injection.

South Carolina became the first state in 15 years to carry out a death sentence using a firing squad.

After winning a yearslong court battle over the constitutionality of firing squad executions, South Carolina became the first state in 15 years to carry out a death sentence using the method. Attempts to kill prisoners with this protocol ushered in fresh concerns over whether the executions violate the constitutional ban on cruel and unusual punishment.

In May, lawyers for Mikal Mahdi, the second man killed by firing squad in the state, filed a lawsuit saying that, though South Carolina’s execution protocol requires executioners to shoot three bullets into the condemned prisoner’s heart, the state’s autopsy found only two bullet wounds in Mahdi’s chest and that both largely missed his heart.

“These facts, drawn from the autopsy commissioned by the South Carolina Department of Corrections (SCDC), explain why witnesses to Mr. Mahdi’s execution heard him scream and groan both when he was shot and nearly a minute afterward,” lawyers wrote in a court filing.

The state said two of the bullets entered Mahdi’s body at the same location — a claim that the forensic pathologist hired by Mahdi’s legal team called “extraordinarily uncommon.” A Department of Corrections spokesperson told The Intercept that the autopsy showed all three bullets hit Mahdi’s heart.

And in Alabama, nitrogen executions continued to take far longer than the state had said they would. Though state officials had pledged in court that prisoners would lose consciousness within “seconds” of the gas flowing and die in about five minutes, that has not happened.

Anthony Boyd’s October execution took nearly 40 minutes, according to a journalist who witnessed it. Media reports said that the 54-year-old rose off the gurney, shook and gasped for breath more than 225 times.

As he had in other nitrogen executions, Alabama prison commissioner John Hamm maintained that the execution had proceeded according to plan.

“It was within the protocol, but it has been the longest,” Hamm said.

Like many other states, Alabama has never released an unredacted protocol or transparently answered questions about its source of execution materials.

“Experimental, Untested Methods”

Maher, the head of the Death Penalty Information Center, said that this kind of conduct, particularly when problems arise during executions, undermines democratic principles.

“We are seeing that many elected officials are just shamelessly putting out narratives that defy the witness observations of executions that have gone terribly wrong,” she said. “We need to have officials who are willing to tell the truth about the death penalty.”

While the Supreme Court can halt executions over constitutional concerns, it did not grant a single stay in 2025.

“I don’t think we would have seen these experimental, untested methods used 20 years ago,” Maher said. “Part of the explanation is because the United States Supreme Court has signaled very clearly that it does not intend to step in and halt use of these methods.”

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Alabama Deputy Solicitor general Robert Overing approached the podium at the U.S. Supreme Court on a mission: to convince the justices that 55-year-old Joseph Clifton Smith should be put to death.

Never mind the two-day evidentiary hearing years earlier, which convinced a federal district judge that Smith had an intellectual disability — and that executing him would amount to cruel and unusual punishment. Never mind the three-judge panel of the 11th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals that agreed. And never mind the decades of Supreme Court precedent contradicting Alabama’s position. Today’s Supreme Court was no longer bound by its own case law.

“Nothing in the Eighth Amendment bars the sentence Joseph Smith received for murdering Durk Van Dam nearly 30 years ago,” Overing began. Although the landmark 2002 decision in Atkins v. Virginia banned the execution of people with intellectual disabilities, Smith did not qualify. “He didn’t come close to proving an IQ of 70 or below.”

An IQ score of 70 has traditionally been considered a threshold for intellectual disability. Smith’s scores hovered above that, ranging from 72 to 78. But under well-established clinical standards, this makes him a “borderline” case. Experts — and the Supreme Court itself — have long recognized that IQ tests have an inherent margin of error. And they have relied on an array of additional evidence to assess whether a person is intellectually disabled. As now-retired Justice Anthony Kennedy wrote over a decade ago in Hall v. Florida, which explicitly struck down a rigid IQ requirement of 70, “intellectual disability is a condition, not a number.”

Under Atkins — and under Alabama law — decision-makers are bound by a three-part test: whether a person has limited intellectual functioning (determined in part by IQ); whether they struggle with “adaptive” functioning (the social and practical skills that make up day-to-day life); and whether those struggles manifested before the age of 18. The federal judges who ruled in Smith’s favor had applied this very test. But Overing discounted this. He had an alternative narrative: The judges had gone rogue.

To help Smith escape execution, he argued, the judges plucked his lowest score and rounded down in his favor, then leaned on lesser evidence as proof of his intellectual limitations. “The sentence ‘Smith’s IQ is below 70’ doesn’t appear in the District Court’s opinion, nor in the Court of Appeals opinion,” he said. The courts “changed the standard.”

“What you’ve done is shift this to be all about the IQ test in a way that is not supported by our case law.”

“It seems to me that you are actually changing the standard,” Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson cut in. The court opinions didn’t include “IQ is below 70” because that isn’t the law. The first prong of the three-part test requires “a showing of ‘significant subaverage general intellectual functioning,’” she said. “I think what you’ve done is shift this to be all about the IQ test in a way that is not supported by our caselaw.”

“I’m having a really hard time with this case,” Justice Sonia Sotomayor said. Overing was accusing the lower courts of violating a standard that does not actually exist. The record showed that the federal judges adhered to Supreme Court precedent. Hall invalidated the strict 70 IQ requirement. And a subsequent case, Moore v. Texas, emphasized that states could not rely on outdated medical standards to reject intellectual disability claims.

The lower federal courts followed the law. “It’s exactly what we told people to do in Hall, it’s exactly what we told people to do in Moore,” Sotomayor said.

She then cut to the heart of the matter: “What you’re asking us to do is to undo those cases.”

On paper, the question in Hamm v. Smith is narrow: “Whether and how courts may consider the cumulative effect of multiple IQ scores” in deciding whether a condemned prisoner has an intellectual disability.

This question has never been explicitly answered by the Supreme Court. But while Alabama insisted that judges nationwide are yearning for guidance, its appeal to the court was rooted less in questions of law than in political opportunism. In the Trump era, the court has become a friendly forum for right-wing ideologues, with conservatives eagerly asking its supermajority to dismantle any pesky legal precedents obstructing their agenda.

Before Wednesday’s oral argument, it seemed likely the justices would find a way to give the state of Alabama what it wants. The only question was how far they might go. Some conservatives hoped they might take aim at the Eighth Amendment itself — specifically the long-standing principle that criminal punishments must be guided by “the evolving standards of decency that mark the progress of a maturing society.” One amicus brief, submitted on behalf of 18 Republican attorneys general, insisted that this framework must be dismantled. “The Court should never have told judges to chase after the country’s ‘evolving standards of decency,’” they wrote.

It is no secret that Justices Clarence Thomas and Samuel Alito agree with this sentiment. But the scene at the court suggested that Hamm may not be the case where they tear it all down. The two-hour oral argument was mired in confusion over what, exactly, Alabama was talking about. “I’m confused,” Justice Amy Coney Barrett told Overing at one point, echoing Sotomayor. “It doesn’t seem like Alabama prohibits” what the district court did in Smith’s case.

When it came to the supposed question at hand — how to reconcile multiple IQ scores — Overing’s proposed solutions were not exactly subtle. One option, he said, was to simply adopt the highest IQ score, “because there are many ways that an IQ test can underestimate IQ if the offender is distracted, fatigued, ill or because of the incentive to avoid the death penalty.”

“You can see why that might be regarded as a little results-oriented,” Chief Justice John Roberts replied.

With a ruling not expected until next summer, Smith’s life hangs in the balance. After decades facing execution, his journey to Washington shows how case law that evolved to reflect scientific understandings is now under siege at the court. It is also emblematic of the way in which conservatives are exploiting the high court’s growing disregard for its own precedents and for federal courts trying to follow the law.

Joseph Clifton Smith had just gotten out of prison in November 1997 when he met a man named Larry Reid at a highway motel outside Mobile. The pair encountered a third man, Michigan carpenter Durk Van Dam, and decided to rob him. They lured him to a secluded spot and fatally beat him with his carpentry tools, some of which Smith later tried to sell at a pawn shop.

Smith was quickly arrested and gave two tape-recorded statements to police. At first he denied participating in the attack. But in a second interview, Smith implicated himself in the murder.

His 1998 trial was swift and stacked against him. The presiding judge was Chris Galanos, a former Mobile County prosecutor who had prosecuted Smith for burglary just a few years earlier. Smith’s defense lawyers called no witnesses during the guilt phase and largely conceded the version of events presented by the state. This was due, at least in part, to the paltry pay and meager investigative resources provided to court-appointed lawyers.

The jury convicted Smith in less than an hour.

At the time of Smith’s trial, there was no prohibition on executing people with intellectual disabilities. The Supreme Court had refused to impose such a ban in its 1987 ruling in Penry v. Lynaugh. But it ruled that a diagnosed intellectual disability could be used as mitigating evidence to persuade a jury to spare a defendant’s life.

Smith’s lawyers called Dr. James Chudy to testify at the sentencing phase. The psychologist traced Smith’s struggles to the first grade, when Smith was described as a “slow learner.” In seventh grade, he was labeled “educable mentally retarded.” Soon thereafter, Smith dropped out of school.

Chudy gave Smith an IQ test, which yielded a result of 72. According to Chudy, this placed Smith in the bottom 3 percent of the population intellectually. But he also explained that he had to consider “a standard error of measurement of about three or four points.” Thus, Smith’s true IQ “could be as high as maybe a 75,” Chudy testified. “On the other hand he could be as low as a 69.”

Smith’s disability was exacerbated by his harrowing family life, which was marked by severe poverty and abuse. The environment denied him the extra care he needed. As his trial lawyers later argued in a plea for mercy, “He came into the world with a very, very limited IQ. … He had no family support in that respect and that’s how he came to be where he is.”

But prosecutors urged jurors to apply “common sense.” “There are folks out there with marginal IQs who are street wise,” one prosecutor said. “This man’s been in prison, this man’s been around.” If jurors did not sentence Smith to die, he argued, they were saying the victim did not matter. “There was no value in his life and there was no meaning in his death.”

Jurors recommended a death sentence by a vote of 11 to 1.

Smith had been on death row for three years when the U.S. Supreme Court announced that it would reconsider its decision in Penry. In the intervening years, numerous states had passed bans on executing people with intellectual disabilities. As the oral argument in Atkins approached, the Birmingham News ran a special report declaring that Alabama led the nation in the “shameful practice.” Defendants with intellectual disabilities were not only less culpable for their actions, they could be “easily misled and eager to win investigators’ approval.”

The following year, the Supreme Court handed down Atkins, officially prohibiting the execution of people with intellectual disabilities. Reacting to the decision, Alabama Attorney General Bill Pryor said he would follow the law. “But we will also be vigilant against those who would deceive the courts by claiming they are [intellectually disabled] when they’re not.”

The protections of Atkins have never been guaranteed. The court left it to the states to decide how to enforce its ruling, prompting efforts to circumvent the decision altogether.

While to date Atkins has led some 144 people to be removed from death row, according to the Death Penalty Information Center, others have been put to death despite evidence that their executions were unconstitutional. In 2025 alone, three men have been executed despite diagnoses of intellectual disability. One, Byron Black, was executed in Tennessee, even after the current district attorney acknowledged that killing him would violate the law.

Since Atkins, Alabama has executed at least four people despite evidence of intellectual disability. All of them were represented by court-appointed attorneys who were denied the resources to properly defend their clients — and whose decisions sometimes made matters worse. In the case of Michael Brandon Samra, who was executed in 2019, trial lawyers did not hire an expert to evaluate him. Instead, they told jurors the murder was rooted in his membership in a Satan-worshipping gang.

Smith spent years trying to challenge his death sentence under Atkins. After losing in state court, he was appointed lawyers with the Federal Defenders for the Middle District of Alabama, who filed a challenge in federal court arguing that Smith “suffers from significant intellectual and adaptive limitations,” only some of which were presented at trial. But they were up against onerous procedural barriers. Alabama’s Criminal Court of Appeals had rejected the evidence of Smith’s intellectual disability — and a federal judge could only reverse the decision if it clearly violated the law. In 2013, U.S. District Court Judge Callie Granade ruled against Smith.

But that same year, the Supreme Court agreed to hear Hall v. Florida, which would strengthen the ruling in Atkins. The case centered on a man whose IQ scores ranged from 71 to 80. Because Florida law required a strict cutoff of 70, his appeals were rejected.

Famed Supreme Court litigator Seth Waxman delivered the oral argument in Hall. He began by reiterating the three-part definition of intellectual disability used by experts and established in Atkins: a “significantly subaverage intellectual function concurrent with deficits in adaptive behavior with an onset before the age of 18.” Because of the “standard error of measurement” inherent in IQ tests, he said, “it is universally accepted that persons with obtained scores of 71 to 75 can and often do have [an intellectual disability].”

The argument grappled with the challenge of multiple IQ scores. There were no easy answers. When Florida’s solicitor general argued that “the best measure of your true IQ is your obtained IQ test score,” Justice Elena Kagan pushed back. “The ultimate determination here is whether somebody is [intellectually disabled],” she said. IQ tests were not even a full piece of the three-part puzzle. “What your cutoff does is it essentially says the inquiry has to stop there.”

In 2014, the court struck down Florida’s law by a vote of 5 to 4.

The next year, the 11th Circuit reversed the District Court’s decision in Smith’s case. The judges found that Alabama’s Court of Criminal Appeals had improperly relied on Smith’s unadjusted IQ scores to conclude that there was no evidence of intellectual disability. The court sent the case back to Granade, who granted an evidentiary hearing.

Two months before the hearing, the U.S. Supreme Court handed down yet another decision bolstering Smith’s case. The ruling in Moore v. Texas struck down Texas’s peculiar method for determining intellectual disability, which was rooted more in stereotypes than science. “In line with Hall,” it read, “we require that courts … consider other evidence of intellectual disability where an individual’s IQ score, adjusted for the test’s standard error, falls within the clinically established range for intellectual-functioning deficits.”

In May 2017, Granade presided over an evidentiary hearing in Montgomery. Over two days of testimony, experts shed light on modern understandings of intellectual disability and how it was reflected in Smith’s life. Because he’d spent much of his adult life incarcerated, it was hard to evaluate his ability to live independently. But he’d struggled in the outside world, living in hotels, following others, and behaving recklessly and impulsively.

The hearing also highlighted the very stereotypes that often prevent lay people from recognizing intellectual disabilities. A state lawyer asked one of Smith’s experts if he was aware that Smith had been paid to mow lawns at 14 and later worked as a roofer and painter. None of these jobs were inconsistent with a mild intellectual disability, the expert replied. Was he aware that Smith claimed he “always had money in his pocket and he always worked full time?” the lawyer asked. The expert replied that, while this may have been true, people with intellectual disabilities often try to downplay their struggles; some “exaggerate their competencies and what they can do.”

Granade ultimately vacated his death sentence. “This is a close case,” she wrote. “At best Smith’s intelligence falls at the low end of the borderline range of intelligence and at worst at the high end of the required significantly subaverage intellectual functioning.” Given the ambiguity as to the first of Atkins’s three-prong test, she turned to the second and third prongs. “Whether Smith is intellectually disabled will fall largely on whether Smith suffers from significant or substantial deficits in adaptive behavior, as well as whether his problems occurred during Smith’s developmental years,” she wrote. The evidence showed that the answer to both questions were yes.

After 23 years on death row, Smith was no longer facing execution.

It would not take long for Alabama to fight back. In February 2023, the case landed back at the 11th Circuit for an oral argument. Speaking before a three-judge panel, a lawyer for the state attorney general’s office disregarded Granade’s careful consideration of the evidence, accusing her of simply cherry-picking “the lowest, least reliable score” in order to vacate Smith’s death sentence.

The judges were skeptical. The state’s briefs ignored the Supreme Court’s rulings in Hall and Moore. “It seems to me like they are the controlling precedent here,” one judge said. Yet the only time the state acknowledged the rulings was to cite the dissents.

Another judge had been on the panel that sent the case back to the district court in 2015. “What we concluded in that opinion was that other pieces of evidence should be considered, together with the IQ scores, to determine whether or not Smith is intellectually disabled,” he said. Granade did precisely this. In fact, he pointed out, not doing so would have violated the law.

The 11th Circuit ruled in Smith’s favor.

By then, the U.S. Supreme Court was a vastly different court from the one that decided Hall and Moore. The power was now firmly entrenched in a conservative supermajority that was dramatically reshaping — and in many cases, eviscerating — the rule of law. In a petition to the justices, Alabama accused the lower federal courts of “placing a thumb on the scale in favor of capital offenders.”

Lawyers for Smith countered that the state was distorting the facts and the law. Alabama continued to insist that the lower courts had manipulated a single IQ score to reach its conclusions. In reality, Smith’s attorneys argued, their opinions were rooted in expert testimony, Supreme Court precedent, and a “thorough review of the evidence.”

Nevertheless, in 2024, the Supreme Court vacated the 11th Circuit’s ruling. Before agreeing to hear the case, however, it sent the case back for an explanation. The 11th Circuit’s decision could “be read in two ways,” the justices said. Either it gave “conclusive weight” to Smith’s lowest IQ score, or it took “a more holistic approach to multiple IQ scores that considers the relevant evidence.”

The 11th Circuit replied that it had done the latter, firmly rejecting Alabama’s claim that it relied on a single score. But the narrative had already opened the door for Alabama, teeing up the case for argument. The Supreme Court put Hamm v. Smith on its 2025 docket.

By the time Overing stepped down from the podium on Wednesday, Sotomayor was fed up. “Show me one case in Alabama that has followed your rule,” she demanded to no avail. She pointed out that the state expert who testified at Smith’s evidentiary hearing had himself relied on information beyond his IQ scores. “Your own expert did exactly what you say is wrong.”

She also pushed back on the claim that states were confused about how to handle Atkins claims. “Although you try to reap some confusion,” she said, “they all seem to be following the method the district court here followed.” A rigid new rule was bound to create new complications.

Even the lawyer representing the Trump administration, who argued in support of Alabama, didn’t quite align with Overing’s argument. A judge was free to consider evidence apart from IQ, he conceded. But “you still need to circle back” and decide whether the other evidence is “strong enough to drag down the collective weight of IQ.” The problem remained how, exactly, to calculate this.

The conservatives seemed open to trying. Justice Brett Kavanaugh went through Alabama’s proposals, from identifying the median score to an “overlap approach” considering each score’s error range, to simply calculating the average. They all seemed to favor the state.

But as Jackson pointed out, none of these methods have been adopted by Alabama. She still did not see how the justices could reverse the District Court. “I’m trying — trying — to understand how and to what extent the District Court erred in this case given the law as it existed at the time … as opposed to the law Alabama wishes it had enacted.”

Alito, too, seemed frustrated, albeit for different reasons. Shouldn’t there be “some concrete standard” for a person claiming to be intellectually disabled as opposed to a situation where “everything is up for grabs”? But the same question had been raised in Hall more than a decade earlier, only for the court to conclude that the matter was too complex for hard rules. At the end of the day, the science still mattered. IQ was not enough. And where the death penalty is concerned, courts still have a unique obligation to consider people’s cases individually.

The third and last lawyer to face the justices was Seth Waxman — the same litigator who successfully argued Hall. Forced to relitigate issues that had been decided more than 10 years earlier, he found some common ground with his adversaries. Replying to a dubious theoretical from Alito — What if the IQ scores were five 100s and one 71? — Waxman said a judge could probably safely decide that such a person was not intellectually disabled without too much attention to additional factors.

But by the end, they were going in circles. “So in just about every case then, IQs and testimony about IQs can never be sufficient?” Alito asked.

“I don’t know how to —” Waxman began, before interrupting himself. “I have given you every possible answer that I have.”

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“Male detainee needs to go out due to head trauma,” an employee at a U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement’s detention center in Georgia tells a 911 operator.

The operator tells the employee at Stewart Detention Center that there are no ambulances available.

“It’s already out — on the last patient y’all called us with,” the operator says.

“Is there any way you can get one from another county?” the caller asks.

“I can try,” the operator says. “I can’t make any promises, but I can try.”

The call was one of dozens from the ICE detention facility seeking help with medical emergencies during the first 10 months of the second Trump administration, a sustained period of high call volume from the jail not seen since 2018.

Emergency calls were made to 911 at least 15 times a month from Stewart Detention Center for six months in a row as of November 1.

Like the call concerning a detainee’s head trauma from April 1, emergency dispatch records show that the ambulance service in Stewart County, Georgia, where the detention center is located, has had to seek help outside the county more than any time in at least five years — including three instances in November alone.

The burden on rural Stewart County’s health care system is “unsustainable,” said Dr. Amy Zeidan, a professor of emergency medicine at Atlanta’s Emory University who researches health care in immigration detention.

“People are going to die if they don’t get medical care,” said Zeidan. “All it takes is one person who needs a life-saving intervention and doesn’t have access to it.”

“People are going to die if they don’t get medical care.”

This continuous barrage of calls for help with acute medical needs reflects increased detainee populations without changes to medical staffing and capacities, experts told The Intercept. Shifting detainee populations, they said, may also be exacerbating the situation: Older immigrants and those with disabilities or severe health issues used to be more frequently let out on bond as their cases were resolved, but ICE’s mass deportation push has led to an increase in their detention.

With the number of people in immigration detention ballooning nationwide, health care behind bars has become an issue in local and state politics. In Washington state, for instance, legislators passed a law last year giving state-level authorities more oversight of detention facilities. A recent court ruling granted state health department officials access to a privately operated ICE detention center to do health inspections. (A spokesperson from Georgia’s health department did not answer questions about the high volume and types of calls at Stewart.)

911 calls from Stewart included several for “head trauma,” such as one case where an inmate was “beating his head against the wall” and another following a fight.

Impacts of the situation are hard to measure in the absence of comprehensive, detailed data, but they extend both to Stewart’s detainee population — which has increased from about 1,500 to about 1,900 during the Trump administration — and to the surrounding, rural county. (ICE did not respond to a request for comment.)

The data on 911 calls represent what Dr. Marc Stern, a consultant on health care for the incarcerated, called “a red flag.”

Illness and Injuries

Data obtained by The Intercept through open records requests shows that the top four reasons for 911 calls since the onset of the second Trump administration have been chest pains and seizures, with the same number of calls, followed by stomach pains and head injuries.

Neither written call records nor recordings of the calls themselves offer much insight into the causes of injuries. One cause of head traumas, though, could be fights between detainees, said Amilcar Valencia, the executive director of El Refugio, a Georgia-based organization that works with people held at Stewart and their families and loved ones.

“It’s not a secret that Stewart detention center is overcrowded,” he said. “This creates tension.”

Issues such as access to phones for calls to attorneys or loved ones can lead to fights, he said.

Another issue may be self-harm, suggested testimony from Rodney Scott, a Liberian-born Georgia resident of four decades who has been detained in Stewart since January. One day in September, Scott, who is a double amputee and suffers high blood pressure and other health issues, said he saw a fellow detainee climb about 20 stairs across a hall from him and jump over a railing, landing several stories below.

“He hit his head,” Scott said. “It was shocking to see someone risk his life like that.”

He doesn’t know what happened to the man.

On another day, about a month earlier, Scott saw a man try to kill himself with razors.

“He went in, cut himself with blades, after breakfast,” Scott said. “There was a pool of blood,” he said. “It looked like a murder scene.”

In addition to interpersonal tensions, large numbers of detainees in crowded conditions can strain a facility’s medical capacities.

“People are becoming sicker than what the system can handle.”

“There’s a mismatch between the number of people and health workers,” said Joseph Nwadiuko, a professor of medicine at the University of Pennsylvania who researches the immigration detention system. “People are becoming sicker than what the system can handle. The complexity of patients is above and beyond what Stewart is prepared for.”

CoreCivic, the company that operates Stewart, is currently advertising to hire a psychiatrist, a dental assistant, and two licensed practical nurses at the detention center. (The company did not respond to a request for comment.)

“A Lack of Accountability”

The situation at hand also potentially impacts the residents of Stewart County, a sprawling tract of about 450 square miles in southwest Georgia. About 28 percent of the county’s nearly 5,000 residents, two-thirds of whom are Black, live below the poverty line.

The county has two ambulances, and there are no hospitals. The nearest facilities equipped to handle calls coming from the ICE detention center are in neighboring counties about 45 minutes to the east or nearly an hour north. County Manager Mac Moye, though, was nonplussed when presented with the data on the sustained high volume of 911 calls from the detention center.

“We are in a very rural, poor county, with very low population density,” he said. “We’ve always had slow responses compared to, let’s say, Columbus” — the city of 200,000 nearly 45 miles north where one of the nearest hospitals is located.

“We run two ambulances; most surrounding counties have one,” he continued. “We have more money, because of Stewart” — the detention center.

The ICE facility paid nearly $600,000 in fees in fiscal year 2022, the latest year for which data is available, or about 13 percent of the county’s general fund of $4.4 million.

Moye, who worked at the detention center before taking his current job, also called into question whether 911 calls were always made for legitimate reasons. The county manager did not comment on whether his own constituents are increasingly more at risk in situations like the one on April 1, when no ambulance was available to answer a call from the detention center.

“It’s still faster than if we had one ambulance,” he said. “We wish we would never have to call another county, and deal with every call on our own.”

As for the conditions facing detainees, particularly given the types of emergencies the detention center calls 911 about, Moye said, “It’s difficult to comment on what’s happening over there, because we don’t have any control over it.”

That points to a larger problem reflected in the increased calls.

“Obviously, a prison is a prison — it’s blind to the rest of the world,” said Nwadiuko, the Penn professor. “There’s a moral hazard for conditions that don’t occur elsewhere, a lack of accountability.”

“Do No Harm”?

“Seizures, chest pains — are they preventable? Why is it happening?” said Stern, the doctor who consults on carceral health care, commenting on the high volume and types of calls. “Could mean that access or the quality of care is poor. It’s a red flag if the number is high or increasing, and it indicates that investigation is required.”

In September, Democratic Georgia Sens. Raphael Warnock and Jon Ossoff sent a letter to Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem and ICE Acting Director Todd Lyons expressing concern over the 14 deaths in ICE custody this year, including Jesus Molina-Veya, whose June 7 death at Stewart has been reported as a suicide.

The letter sought answers to a series of detailed questions by October 31 about the care Stewart and other ICE detention centers are providing to detainees. Warnock and Ossoff’s offices said they have not received a reply. Ossoff also released an investigation in October called “Medical Neglect and Denial of Adequate Food or Water in U.S. Immigration Detention” that included information gathered at Stewart.

Zeidan, the Emory professor, noted that there’s little information about what happens to ICE detainees once they reach a hospital.

“What happens after detainees are admitted?” Zeidan said. “Are they discharged? Are they getting comprehensive, follow-up care?”

Nwadiuko echoed the concern.

“Are doctors and hospitals using good judgment regarding when going back to a detention facility doesn’t mean ‘a safe discharge’?” he said. “We have an oath: ‘Do no harm.’ That may conflict with an institution’s desire to minimize a detainee’s time outside the gates of the detention center.”

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