A nurse was shackled and vanished into the ICE database, by design
By MIRIAM JORDAN
Ann Lawani, a highly regarded nurse and professor, was still in her pajamas when federal agents detained her at her home in Lodi, California, on Sept. 16.
She placed a call that day to family from a nearby holding facility. After that, however, her siblings and lawyer could not find her in a public database that shows where detainees are being held. They got no answers from Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Lawani had simply vanished.
“It was the worst time of my life, knowing she had been siphoned into an abyss and there was nothing I could do about it,” said her older brother, Sam Lawani, 45, a U.S. citizen. When he heard from her three days later, Ann Lawani was at a detention center in Louisiana.
Her disappearance was no accident. Lawani, a 39-year-old from Nigeria, was arrested the day after the Department of Homeland Security conveyed that most detainees with final deportation orders — tens of thousands of immigrants — would no longer appear on the public database. A document announcing the change, which was obtained by The New York Times, provided a script for contractors to use with callers looking for immigrants, explaining that the information was not public.
Lawyers across the country said the new policy has exacerbated the chaos of the sprawling network of more than 300 ICE detention sites, causing them to lose track of clients. Detainees are often shuffled between facilities, and not knowing their whereabouts hampers the ability of lawyers to provide timely, effective representation, the lawyers said.
About 30% of all detainees, more than 20,000 people, have disappeared from the database, according to a lawsuit filed in federal court in Boston last month by the National Immigration Law Center and several other groups, which assert that the change is unlawful.
The groups argue that many immigrants with deportation orders still have legal avenues to seek release and win the right to remain in the United States. If lawyers know where their clients are, they can file motions to rescind the order, reopen their immigration proceedings and halt removal to third countries.
The motions must be filed before ICE deports them. Removing immigrants from the system deprives them of due process, the groups assert in the lawsuit.
Detainees can call lawyers or loved ones if someone has deposited money into their individual account at a specific detention center to use for phone calls, food, toiletries and other items. If lawyers or relatives cannot find their client or loved one, the detainee might not be able to place calls.
In response to questions, DHS said in a statement that detainees have “several ways” to communicate with family and lawyers and noted that “the appropriate process” for someone with final deportation orders is “removal, plain and simple.”
The changes to the detainee database come as the Trump administration has intensified its effort to deport more than 1 million immigrants annually. As of March, there were about 1.5 million immigrants in the United States with final orders of removal who were not detained, according to the government. Many had been allowed to remain in the country and have worked, paid taxes and built lives.
Lawani entered the country in 2007 on a visitor visa and applied for asylum. In 2013, an immigration judge denied her asylum but granted her “withholding of removal” to Nigeria, based on the finding that she would “more likely than not” face persecution if returned. DHS did not appeal the decision and issued her a work permit in 2014, which she had regularly renewed and is valid until 2029.
DHS said in a statement that Lawani had been detained because she had been ordered removed in 2013. The agency did not comment on her “withholding of removal.”
Lawani was the youngest of five siblings to arrive in the United States. The four others are American citizens, but they could not sponsor her because withholding of removal cannot lead to a green card or citizenship.
At the University of San Diego, where she earned her master’s and doctorate degrees in nursing, Lawani was a standout pupil and president of the student nurses’ association. She worked through the COVID-19 pandemic and developed expertise in palliative, hospice and elder care.
One of her instructors, Eileen Fry-Bowers, became dean of the School of Nursing at the University of San Francisco and recruited her to fill a position there in 2023.
“I have given her increasing responsibilities because she continually demonstrates tremendous skill, knowledge and commitment to our students and the nursing profession,” Fry-Bowers said.
Lawani ascended to program director, overseeing some 250 master’s degree candidates on three campuses. She taught several courses, advised students preparing for licensing exams and job placements, and supervised faculty. On weekends, she worked in the cardiovascular stroke unit at John Muir Hospital in Concord.
On the morning of Sept. 16, Lawani heard noises outside the house she owns and shares with her 83-year-old father, who is fighting cancer. Through her security camera, she saw officers wearing vests emblazoned with “police.”
“I thought there had been a break-in or issue in the area,” she said in a phone interview from the South Louisiana ICE Processing Center in Basile, Louisiana.
In pajamas, hair bonnet and flip-flops, she raised the garage door to ask if everything was OK, she recalled.
Lawani was handcuffed. When she asked why she was under arrest, the agents did not respond, she said. When she requested a warrant, none was presented. They ignored her pleas to speak with her father, who remained alone asleep inside. They shoved her into an unmarked vehicle, and 20 minutes later she was at an ICE facility.
Lawani texted Fry-Bowers to inform her that she might be late for a meeting. Soon after, her phone was taken away. The dean would later learn that Lawani had been shackled at the ankles, waist and hands and moved through four facilities.
Her family wanted to file a habeas petition to secure Lawani’s release and try to block her deportation. The judge had stipulated in 2013 that she must not be sent to Nigeria. However, ICE could try to deport her to a third country.
But where was Lawani? She was not in the database, and ICE did not share her whereabouts. Normally, a habeas petition must be filed in the district where the person is being held.
“That’s usually simple,” said her lawyer, Natalia Vieira Santanna. “In Ann’s case, it wasn’t, because nobody would tell us where she was.”
Vieira filed the petition in the Eastern District of California, her last known location, on Sept. 18. A few days later, DHS asked the court to transfer her habeas petition to Louisiana, which would require Lawani to find new representation and restart her case. Vieira opposed the motion, arguing that the usual rules should not apply because her client’s location had been concealed.
In support of Lawani, she included letters from Fry-Bowers and the president of the University of San Francisco, who described her as an outstanding professional whose absence was disrupting the nursing program.
On Sept. 29, the judge rejected the government’s request to change venue, finding that “no diligent attorney could have known” Lawani was in Louisiana. He also barred the government from deporting Lawani while her habeas case was pending and ordered it to explain why he shouldn’t release her.
On the 51st day of her confinement, Lawani described her emotional state as “holding on.”
She was worried for her father, whose health had deteriorated, she said. He had been hospitalized.
“I have given most of my adult life to serving my patients and students,” she said. “I have been treated like a criminal, but I don’t even have a parking ticket.”
As of Monday, Lawani was still missing from the detainee locator.
